12. CHAPTER 12
Wyatt’s shoulder presses lightly against mine. The scent of his desire still wafts off him in waves, and it’s taking all my willpower not to climb on top of him.
My head snaps towards the hallway. The sound of keys clanking pulls my attention away from Wyatt and my inappropriate thoughts. I gently bite my lip as breath catches in my chest and flutters fill my stomach.
“What is it?” Wyatt whispers in my ear.
“Keys jangling together,” I answer quietly.
I didn’t realize how much hope I’d pinned on this stranger. On his glamouring skills. That they’d be so much stronger than my own.
My head drops down and away from the sound as my body goes numb. Was I a fool? There’s no way his plan worked. They’re probably bringing him back unconscious, choosing to work on the other guy after whatever he attempted.
I sigh and my shoulders slump. I should know better than to let my hopes run wild. Things always fuck it up. My breath catches in my lungs and my lips press into a thin line while I wait for their figures to round the corner and crush the last sliver of hope I have.
Wyatt grasps one of my clenched fists. I look down at our hands as he works his fingers between mine, loosening my death grip. “It’ll be okay. No matter what. It’ll be okay.”
I nod but my jaw clenches tighter as I look back at the bend of the hallway, my heartbeat increasing to match the clanking metal. Wyatt’s comforting touch can only do so much.
Just when I think the anticipation will kill me, Tilly rounds the corner looking as unfazed as if he were strolling through a park. A large bag hangs off his shoulder while he swings a set of keys around and around on a finger. Sauntering like he’s in no rush.
“Phew.” A puff of breath escapes me, and I relax instantly. Wyatt’s eyebrows lift in shock, and an amused, surprised grin spreads across his face. Were we both expecting the worst then?
He side-eyes me and whispers, “Guess we can trust him a bit more now.”
“It appears so.”
Tilly’s gaze drops to our linked hands, and he steps up to our cage, one eyebrow arching. I study him as he tries different keys in the lock. A five o’clock shadow dots his jaw. I didn’t think we’d been here that long, but maybe we have. It doesn’t matter. We’re getting out now. I let my hand slide free of Wyatt’s and excitedly rub my palms together.
“It worked?” I eagerly approach the door.
“Obviously.” Tilly’s dry response reaches me a second before the door’s lock clicking free. With a sly grin on his face, he pulls it open. “I thought you both might appreciate these.” He pulls some clothes and shoes out of the bag and tosses them to us.
“Thanks!” I instantly throw the gigantic Star Wars t-shirt on and then tug up the baggy sweatpants, cinching them in a knot at my waist. On the larger side, but I’m just thrilled to have some covering.
“Hurry and dress so we can move on.” He steps back out of the cell and taps his foot impatiently. I shove my feet into large sneakers and roll up the ends of the pants, so I don’t trip on them.
Wyatt questions Tilly while pulling on a shirt. “What about the guy locked up further down?” He nods in that direction for emphasis.
Tilly swings the keys around a finger again. If it weren’t for the stiff set of his shoulders, the redness of his eyes, or his descended fangs, you’d think he didn’t have a care in the world. Like this is just another Tuesday. Shit, what fucking day is it? How long was I passed out for before even heading to the hospital? How long have we been here?
“He’s none of my concern.” His tone isn’t harsh or mean. Just blunt. Like he’s just stating a fact not worth more discussion. Maybe it’s all the events in God only knows how many days adding up, but his flippant response pisses me off.
“Why are you helping us, then?” I snap at Tilly.
“What are you doing?” Wyatt hisses sharply up at me while he ties the laces on his shoes.
“I just don’t understand. What’s the point? If you’re so careless, why are you helping us?”
Wyatt’s gaze darts between us. “Stop,” he whispers while sliding past me and out of the cage. I follow close behind while keeping my eyes locked on Tilly. He makes my skin itch and I don’t fully trust him. Hell, I can hardly trust Elena and Wyatt. But Tilly? Something’s off about him.
Tilly’s jaw clenches. “Because I said I would.” His features get sharper and harsher, the red of his eyes deepening to a dark crimson. “If you’d rather I leave…”
“No. We’re grateful for your—”
I cut in, speaking over Wyatt. “It’s just, we should help him too, don’t you think?”
He crosses his arms and leans against the glass wall of the cage. His penetrating stare freezing me in place. Then he huffs and glances away from me. “Fine, but let’s be quick about it.”
“Will your glamour wear off? Or are there others here we need to be worried about?”
His harsh gaze swings back to me. “There’s always more to worry about. But I only saw those two. And my glamour won’t crack.” He shoves off the wall dramatically and heads towards the other section of cages. Wyatt and I have to jog to keep up with his long strides. We round the corner, then stop when a guy comes into view. His gaunt and gangly form is curled into a fetal position in the far corner of his cell. How long has he been here?
Tilly’s head cocks to the side. “Hmm. Interesting. Are you certain about this?”
The man’s—no, the boy’s—head shoots up at Tilly’s question. He’s in rough shape, but I think I recognize him. But from where?
Tina mentioned a missing boy, right? My brows furrow as I try to recall more…
“Ben?” I say uncertainly, and the boy whimpers, his glowing neon-red eyes snapping to me. Blood trickles down his chin. His lips are fang-scraped, and dark bruises cover his skin. Poor kid can’t be over sixteen, and his wounds, even the bruises, aren’t healing? How long have they been torturing him?
Memories of starving on the streets and running from Patrick flash through my mind so quickly I sway with a bout of vertigo.
“So, you know him? You definitely want to help him?” Tilly’s blunt, emotionless questions pull me from my thoughts.
“Umm. No. I mean, yes.” I stammer over my words while regaining my balance and clarity. “I recognize him from the butcher’s shop but don’t really know him. But, yes, I want to save him. He’s just a kid.”
The boy scrambles slowly to the door on unsteady feet. His gym shorts are hardly staying in place on his malnourished form. Barely able to remain standing, he leans heavily against the glass. His chin trembles, “Please…”
“Okay then.” Tilly sighs and steps forward to unlock the cage. After he tries a couple of keys, the lock clicks, and the door swings open.
The boy walks past me on jerky legs.
“Are you okay?” I refrain from touching him because he looks like he’ll drop with any additional weight. But he’s so not okay.
He stops abruptly, going ramrod straight.
I take a step back out of instinct. Frozen in place, he sniffs the air. My stomach drops. His head robotically twitches toward Wyatt.
Wyatt moves back, lifting his arms warily, but the boy lunges with the speed of a determined athlete, his previously sluggish movements replaced with a fierce desire.
Hunger. No, something worse. Starvation.
“No!” I rush forward to grab the kid and pull him off Wyatt.
His fingers latch onto Wyatt with a desperation I’ve never seen, his mouth snapping like a guard dog’s. The boy perches on Wyatt, pulling him closer to his snarling face. I yank back, trying to keep his fangs away from Wyatt’s throat, my heart beating through chest.
The boy’s nails scratch down one of Wyatt’s shoulders, spilling blood between them and the sight and smell send him into a frenzy. I don’t want to hurt him, but I have to do something. Digging my fingers into his frail body, I press into the bone hard enough to bruise. He grunts, and his grip loosens, allowing me to force him back a couple of feet. Wyatt slips free and scrambles away. I throw an elbow into the boy’s kidney. He groans and drops to the floor, holding his side.
“Don’t,” I shout at him, prepared to kick him if he tries lunging that way again.
Tilly’s leaning next to the cell’s door with his legs casually crossed, smirking like he’s entertained. He arches a single brow while looking at the boy crumpled on the floor. “You should probably just leave. It’s the wisest choice at this moment.” He uncrosses his ankles and stands tall, swinging the key ring around his finger again. “Get up slowly, and we’ll let you walk out.”
“What’s the matter with you?” I snap at Tilly while refusing to turn fully away from the boy. Wyatt’s inching closer to Tilly and further away from the boy.
Tilly scoffs with a forced chuckle. “Ha, me? Seriously?” His eyes narrow on me. “I’m trying to help. Like you requested.”
The boy hesitantly stands and nods at us then backs towards the door, eyes latched on Wyatt. He pants, drool dripping from his extended fangs. His heels hit the doorframe, and he pauses, longingly looking at Wyatt’s throat before turning and darting through the door.
Still catching my breath from this entire ordeal, I turn to face Tilly, nostrils flaring. “Are you, though?” I should be more afraid of him, but I’m just so mad. I’m so fucking over all of this.
His icy red stare bores into me. “And what would you have me do?” His velvety voice sends chills down my spine. Part of me wants to push him more, but I need to pick my battles, and this isn’t one.
“Whatever. Let’s just leave.”
In unison, we turn and head for the exit the boy left through. I hope he’s not still out there. He’s just a child, but I will protect us, if need be.
Outside the main entrance is a darkened industrial alley. The cool air bites into my exposed skin. At least I have a shirt and sweats, but the night’s too chilly to walk far like this.
I wrap my arms around myself to conserve heat. “Any idea where we are? I’m new here.” My gaze scans left to right, making sure the boy isn’t lingering nearby, but I don’t see any sign of him.
“I’m not from around here either.” Tilly responds in a bored tone.
“Well, I see a railway over that way,” Wyatt says, white air puffing out, and points off to the left. “And I think that sounds like the river over there.” He gestures to the right. “So, my best guess would be somewhere up near the North Branch Industrial Corridor. Making us anywhere from five to fifteen miles north of the hospital.” He rubs his hands up and down his arms.
Tilly nods, seemingly unaffected by the chill. “I hear the train and boats on the river, so that sounds accurate.”
My mouth drops open. “How can you possibly hear that?”
“You can’t?” He cocks his head at me. “I can teach you some things, I suppose, but let’s do so en route.” He strolls south, Wyatt and I jog to catch up. My feet feel heavier and heavier with each step. I’m so tired.
Tilly glances back at me. “You’re dragging. First person we pass, you’ll glamour and feed more. You need the strength. Plus, you need to work on your glamouring skills. Also, keep your eyes peeled for a car.”
My chin drops. Face heats. I know I’m not good at it, but to be called out like that…
“Wait, are we stealing a car?” Wyatt asks, his voice an octave higher than normal.
“Let’s call it temporarily borrowing.”
Wyatt rubs the back of his neck, frowning at Tilly’s answer.
“For my glamour, how do I make it stick better?” I bite my fingernails while I trail further behind them both.
“I’m assuming you do it wrong. How do you glamour someone right now?”
“I push what I want them to think like a fog into their minds.”
“Precisely wrong. You aren’t addressing their current thoughts or emotions, which will always be stronger than what you’re pushing through.”
I frown and look over at Wyatt in confusion. His eyebrows are arched high, and he’s hanging on every word. He glances at me with a small smile and shrug.
“First, you need to capture a human’s mind and grip it firmly. Envision seeping into their mind’s eye and physically latching onto the inside of their heads. That’s when their eyes get glassy.” He bends to retrieve two rocks from the road and tosses them up into the air. “From there, you address their emotions. Typically, fear or concern will be up front. You push calmness, clarity, and peace into the forefront of their minds and wait for it to seep through. That’s your foundation. Then you build the thoughts and memories you want them to have on top of that.” He answers over his shoulder, not slowing his long strides.
“It’s like a form of persuasion. Fascinating.” Wyatt looks between me and Tilly, awe in his gaze. He turns and walks backwards in between me and Tilly so he can keep his eyes on me, but my sluggish movements are creating a larger gap. Exhaustion is clinging onto every muscle I have.
“That’s it? And it’ll stick?” I can’t hide the doubt in my voice.
“As with most things, practice will strengthen your abilities.” He bends to retrieve a third rock. “Your slowing pace is becoming a hindrance. Might as well practice and replenish your strength.”
“I’m the hindrance? Look at you!” I snap back. “You haven’t been in control this entire time. Your fangs and eyes haven’t gone back to normal since they brought you in.” My voice rises, along with my blood pressure.
He snorts but doesn’t even slow. “I haven’t lost control once.” He playfully wiggles his eyebrows at me over his shoulder. “Perhaps I like them on display.” His grin is so wide that his fangs reflect in the brightness of the streetlamps.
My head shakes and my mouth opens, but nothing comes out. What do I say to that? What the fuck is the matter with him?
He starts juggling the rocks while he strolls onward. “I’m well-fed and not weakening. You don’t need to be concerned about me slowing us down.”
Ouch, my chin drops at the dig. I am holding us back. I can’t even argue that I’m not. Hell, even Wyatt’s keeping up better than me. Maybe all the stress and injuries are finally catching up to me.
Tilly stops at the opening of an alleyway. “Up ahead is a homeless person sleeping. Go. Practice.”
I speechlessly look at Wyatt. For encouragement? Support? Denial? I’m not even sure. My skin is crawling, and I don’t know what to do. Tilly’s right, of course. It’s getting harder and harder to take a step forward. But when will this be too much for Wyatt? Should I even be considering it with him here?
He looks over when I do, our gazes connecting. He gives me a small smile and nod, obviously less fazed by all of this than I am.
I gulp and walk further down the alley with Wyatt at my side.
“I’m nervous. I know that’s stupid, but I am,” I whisper to him.
His fingers lightly brush against my hand while we walk.
“It’s not stupid. This is something new for you. It’s okay to feel uneasy about it. But he seems to know what he’s talking about. You won’t hurt them, will you?”
My head draws back quickly, and my steps falter. “No.” My hand presses into my chest. “I don’t want to hurt them.”
His skin flushes and his body tenses. “Will it…eh, will they feel what I felt?” His expression’s pinched, and he rubs his hands down his shirt.
“I don’t want to hurt them or scare them. So, they’ll feel more pleasure, but I can take away the memories after.” I rub my arms and look up at the sky. “Hopefully.”
“Well, best-case scenario, what he says works, and they’re left unhurt and unaware. Worst-case scenario, you glamour them the way you have previously, and it will be like when you were living on the streets. Either way, they aren’t hurt, and you get stronger so we can move on quicker.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“For the record, if it wouldn’t slow me down, I would totally volunteer.” He playfully nudges his shoulder into mine.
I pause and look up into his face. He stops right with me and smiles down at me, leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. Faster than I’d wish, he pulls back. One side of my mouth quirks up in response to his kiss.
I lean around Wyatt to see if Tilly’s followed us, but he’s leaning against a brick building where we entered the alley. He’s picking at his nails and avoiding looking at us. I speak softly knowing Tilly’s hearing is superior to mine. “You really aren’t feeding?”
His voice drifts like the wind back to us. “Nope. Not hungry.” He turns to the alley entrance while removing the hair tie from his long hair. “Now hurry, so we can get a move on. You two can fondle each other later.” He secures his long ebony hair into a messy man bun.
“Ha. Well, okay then.” Wyatt looks back at me, gives me another quick peck then takes a few steps back. “I’ll wait over here.”
I cross the remaining distance and kneel next to the sleeping form. The smell is enough to kill my appetite, but this is more for practice and strength than hunger. I focus on Wyatt, less than ten feet from me. Listening to his breathing and aligning my senses to his smell, to help block out and cover this person’s stench.
I place a hand on his leg, and the man jolts into a seated position. Pushing my fog into his mind’s eye, I feel around and mentally grasp his psyche. It’s like digging my fingers into thick wet mud, slippery and tough to get through, but easier once I’ve pushed in deep enough. Huh, that’s a new sensation.
His eyes glaze over, and fear springs into my mind. He’s terrified. His panic beats into my chest, and with a deep breath, I push out calmness and peace. The tension leaves him, replaced by confusion. “You want me to feed from you. You crave it and know it will feel amazing.” His confusion morphs to desire. He nods and leans towards me.
My toes curl. I can physically feel Wyatt’s eyes locked on me. My body flushes and my hands tremble. I can’t tell if I like him watching or hate it. It doesn’t matter; I have only one goal right now. I wrap a hand around the back of the man’s head to bring him closer. Brushing his greasy hair out of the way and pulling his coat down over his shoulder, I lean forward and strike. I’m not wasting time. One goal: nourishment and strength.
The man’s moan vibrates against my lips, and his desire smells of sweet berries. I bite deeper, taking in greedy pulls. The quicker I can finish this, the sooner we can move on.
A wave of minty yearning smashes into me. My drinking stutters and slows. Wyatt’s scent of desire distracts me, making me crave things I can’t have right now. I turn a fraction, pulling the obedient man with me so as not to break the connection. My eyes search the night and catch Wyatt’s in the soft glow of the streetlight. He’s biting his bottom lip with fists clenched at his sides, the woodsy mint scent pulsing over to me.
Does he like this? Does he enjoy watching me?
I can faintly make out the growing bulge in his sweatpants. His hooded eyes, unblinking, remaining glued to my mouth. I take an even deeper pull of the blood, and the man in front of me moans louder. His hand rubs up my back, trying to bring me closer. Wyatt’s lip’s part, releasing his bottom lip, and he lightly pants.
The man’s hand slides down my back toward my rear. I break our lustful look to return my focus to the man. Grasping his wandering hand and pinning it to the side, I take three more gulping drinks. His blood isn’t as potent or alluring as Wyatt’s, but the amount alone has me feeling sated for the first time in days. He’ll probably be a bit hazy with the amount I took, but he should recover in a day or so. I pull back, licking the wound closed and quickly sucking to leave a hickey.
When he sits back, his eyes still glassy, I don’t feel fear or confusion, only lust. “You had a fun make-out session with another person on the street. You went your own ways, and you decided to take a nap after all the excitement.” I will the thoughts forward into his psyche, still feeling the deep grip I have over his mind. “Repeat that back to me.”
His rough, raspy voice repeats it then he crawls back to his makeshift bed and closes his eyes. I wait a moment, making sure it took and that I don’t feel fear creeping in. After a minute, I’m pretty sure it worked, so I stand, releasing my mental hold on him.
I stroll back to Wyatt. Before I can say a word, he captures my mouth in a searing kiss. I wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer, and melt into him. His tongue slides into my mouth as his arms snake around my waist.
“Not the time.” Tilly’s drawl has us both glancing his way. “Let’s move on before daylight. We still need a car.” He turns the corner of the alley, leaving us.
Wyatt chuckles and grabs my hand, pulling me after Tilly. “Do you feel better?”
“So much!”
“Good. Your coloring looks healthier.” He brushes a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
I can’t stop myself. “You enjoyed watching.”
He gives me a shy smile. “That’s not a question.”
“No. I sensed you. I could smell your desire.”
He bites the inside of his cheek sheepishly. “I didn’t realize you could smell that.” Pink tints his face, and he lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “You know how it makes me feel then.”
“I would much prefer if it had been you.”
He brushes a hand across my jaw and bottom lip, longing in his eyes. “Me too.”
Glass shattering has our heads snapping to the end of the alley. He grabs my hand, and we run toward the noise.
Rounding the corner, we see Tilly further down the street next to a car with a busted-out back window. He leans in through the broken glass to unlock it. After opening the door, he crouches next to the driver’s seat and fiddles under the dash.
“He’s trying to hot-wire it, isn’t he?” My words are barely a whisper. I might’ve lived on the streets and stolen food or clothing, but I’ve never stolen a car or hot-wired one. My stomach tightens at the thought.
“I think so.” Wyatt slows our pace to a walk. “I don’t like this. I help people. I don’t want to hurt someone by stealing their car.” A grim frown darkens his features as we stroll closer.
“I don’t hear either of you providing better options.” Tilly’s voice cuts through the brisk night.
We come to a stop by the other side of the vehicle. “I don’t have any better suggestions.” I give Wyatt’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “And you aren’t. He is.” I nod over the car to Tilly. “I’m not saying we don’t do this. But we can also not like it.”
The engine roars to life a second later.
“Whatever. Let’s go.” Tilly slides the seat back as far as it will allow, and it’s still comical watching him climb into the car. His knees go up past the steering wheel. I pause, not sure where to sit.
“Take the front, there’s too much glass back here for both of us to sit.” Wyatt opens the back door and brushes the glass onto the floorboard and climbs in.
I climb into the front. “Where are we going?”
“It isn’t safe going anywhere we would normally go, so a motel until we can figure out who might still be after us.”
I shiver and run my hands up and down my arms.
Tilly turns the heat on high and pulls away from the curb, heading out of the industrial area.