Don went into the living room and returned with my notebook and textbook. “I’ll be back in later,” he flashed a lecherous grin, “for round two.”
Chapter Seven
Freeing You
“So yeah, um...I sorta got this thing at Crone’s Head tonight.”
Don looked up from the book he was reading on the couch. I was already decked out in my usual garb, complete with a lip piercing, industrial bar, curls flattened, and bangs hiding my left eye. I even put some eyeliner on and glistened my lips. I had dug out my baggy jeans too, dangling chains from the pockets, and slipped on a Zombie Blood tee. I was pretty proud of it since it contained the band’s new logo—a voodoo doll pinned to a wall with its brains and intestines dripping from its ripped stitches. I wore a black scarf to cover up the claim marks around my neck—it fit perfectly with my outfit.
Don gave me the once-over. Something in his eyes made me feel embarrassed. He didn’t say anything at first, but a smile crept over his face. I looked away, blushing, and I hated it. Damnit, what was so embarrassing about Don seeing me like this? Fuck him, this was me. If he didn’t like it, best he realized it now.
“So yeah, it’s tonight, so um, I’m gonna go...” If you let me. I didn’t say it. Instead, I left it hanging in the air. I didn’t have to. I knew that he could stop me, lock me in the house. After the punishment I’d received for disobeying him and going to Shamar’s, I had no plans of ripping up the tree net this time if he locked me in the bedroom. My knees and ass ached at the memory.
A pang of dread knotted my stomach. What if he didn’t let me go? Worse yet, what if he didn’t even let me be me?
“You play?”
I had forgotten I was holding my electronic guitar case. “Oh, uh, yeah.” Why was I so fucking nervous? It was just stupid Don.
His smile grew. Was he laughing at me? “All right, let’s go.”
“Us?”
“Well, yeah. No way I’m gonna let you go by yourself.”
“Uh…” I was shocked. I really thought he would stop me altogether. Of course, I’d been preparing for a fight because there was no way in hell I’d miss my band’s first gig. We’d booked it over a month ago. “You don’t have to come.”
“’Course I do.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like I’ll try to run off again.”
“I didn’t think that.”
“But you still wanna come?”
“’Course. With the way you are now, there’s no way you won’t be attacked.” Oh. I hadn’t even thought of that. I was of breeding age, going through the Offering. There was a very real possibility that some asshole alpha would try to claim me. From what I could remember, Crone’s Head wasn’t a non-fight zone.
Normally stores and other shops had non-fighting zones. Otherwise, wereduins would have a hard time living with the other races. It was etiquette to refrain from fighting in those areas and take it outside. One time that happened to Mom and Papa in Playland. We had barely started the line for the roller-coaster, Roaring Banshee when Mom had to go to a fighting zone and face a challenger. I was never afraid of my mother losing. It never crossed my mind, even though the challenger would’ve killed my sister and me if he won, and Papa became his mate.
I sighed. “Fine.”
“Besides…” He tried to mess up my hair, but I dodged his hand. “I wanna hear you play.”
“Why? I’m not that great.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Whatever, let’s go.”
We were locking up the front door when he turned to me and spoke in a serious tone. “If we do get a challenger, don’t engage them. You wait for me. I’ll most likely smell them coming, but don’t ever run.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah.”
Don quirked his brow. “No repeat of the molebats.”
Low blow. “Jerk. You know why I did that.”
“Just come on.”
“That’s my line.”
We drove in silence. I stared out the window. The familiar buildings of downtown stirred up nostalgia. The last time I came here, I’d been unmated. I wondered how it would be now. How my friends would take this. Oh yeah…
“Lucian is going to be there, so please don’t mess with him.” Please? What the fuck? Why was I saying please to Don? The asshole was going to get even more stupid ideas.
Don’s lips curled into a snarl. “Is this a mixed club?”
“It’s a bar. But yeah, it’s mixed. Gotta problem with that?”
“Actually, yeah.”
I swallowed but still mouthed off. “Well, too bad—”
“Listen here.” His tone stopped me. “I’ll go along with this game, but only because Lucian is a brat. Stay the hell away from adult vampires, or I will attack them.”
Shit really? “Isn’t that a bit extreme?”
Don huffed. “What planet have you been living on? Extreme? It’s far too tame for their lot.”
“But—”
“Don’t push it, Fern.”
“Fine.” It wasn’t like I hung around many vamps, anyway. Lucian was the only one. Well, there was another. He was also goth, more goth-metalhead, so sometimes he came with us to gigs and hung around us at school. “You know, I know you’re an old man, but you’re young enough to have gone to a mixed school.”
All the races going to the same school was a relatively new thing. My parents had been at the tail end of wereduins-only schools before the mixed schools happened, so tension was always higher among the older persons. Don had gone to my school. He confirmed it when he told me he’d rescued me from Brig that one time in the gym lockers.
“You really have been sheltered, you know that?” Maybe what he said was true. I never once felt afraid of anything living with my mom—not vampires or alphas.
“I don’t think I’m sheltered.”
“’Course you don’t.”
Finally, we arrived in front of Crone’s Head. It was a little dive outside of downtown, right on the edge of the bogs. Given its close proximity to the bayous, lots of zombies came there. That made even more sense when most metalhead and emocore groups were made up of more zombies than the other races.
Dirt lots surrounded the building, and that’s where we parked Don’s car. Overall, it wasn’t too crowded, but we still ended up parking close to the water. Here the gnats were thick enough to catch them between your fingers when brushing them away. The pungent smell of detritus from the nearby swamp stung my nose.
“I’ll carry that for you.” Don reached out for my guitar case.
I shook my head. “Please don’t.”
“You really don’t know how to accept a good thing, do you?”
“Good thing? Well, aren’t you full of yourself?”
Don smiled, and this time he succeeded in messing up my hair.
“Dammit, Don!” The moment I put down my case and went to correct my hair, he stole it and carried it the rest of the way. Ass.
The bar was more of a hut with wooden steps up to the porch. There wasn’t a cover, so we could enter for free. When I pushed the door open, a thick cloud of Nightshade cigarette smoke invaded my nose and momentarily made my eyes water. I wondered if Shamar had brought along his pack. It felt like years since I last had one. What would Don think about me smoking? Some of his friends smoked, but I had yet to see him with a cigarette. I briefly wondered if he would stop me if I tried.
Crone’s Head also didn’t card at the door, which was great. Hopefully, Kina would be there, so I could at least grab a drink. The zombie bartender was awesome because she didn’t ask for ID.
“Okay, can I have it back now?” Don’s gaze roamed around the room like he was making sure it was safe for his mate. Overprotective much? His distraction allowed me to snatch it back.
The smell of crispy human fingers and fried frog wrinkled my nose. Since most clientele were zombies, a lot of menu items involved human flesh, but not all.
My mouth watered as I watched two zombie cooks at the fryer—the pan sizzling, adding to the small pub’s cozy atmosphere. “Maybe we could split an order of fried sparrows later?” I said over my shoulder. “They’re my favorite! Their wings got just the right amount of crunch.” I’d never splintered a fang on them yet. “Oh wait…lemme see if Shamar’s here.”
A side door let out to an awning overlooking the bogs. Shamar liked to come early and sit at a table. He said the humidity helped maintain his body. That was a bit weird—wouldn’t the humidity make zombies rot quicker? But apparently, that wasn’t the case. Not like I knew anything about Voodoo replenishing spells.
I peeked my head out, but surprisingly he wasn’t there.
Shrugging, I went back inside. “Come on, the stage is downstairs.”
Don hung back. “Thought you wanted to get sparrow wings?”
Yeah, I had asked him, but I’d said that without thinking—momentarily believing I came here with my friends. I never expected him to listen to me.
“Oh, well, we normally play first.”
Don studied me with those pensive blue eyes, and I fidgeted under his stare. “All right.” His face took on a gentle expression, and for a moment, I couldn’t look away.
Stop it! Stop fawning over stupid, jerky Don!
Spinning on my heel, I stormed off. Not sure who I was angrier at—me or Don.
The wooden floor creaked between my feet, and my shoe skidded on the grease.
Before I could fall, Don caught me. “Careful.”
I shoved out of his strong arms. “I-I’m fine.”
A stairway led into a speakeasy. Halfway down the steps, I saw a makeshift stage. A hybrid of metalhead and emo décor filled the space with lots of blacks and grays. None of the usual metalhead, metalcore, and emocore music played tonight because my band was scheduled to perform.
Alphonse was setting up on the stage. I still didn’t see Shamar. Lucian wasn’t there either. I was kind of dreading having Lucian around Don. I wasn’t sure if Don would be an asshole or, at the very least, be rude to him.
It was weird to see Alphonse without Lucian. Almost immediately, he noticed I had company.
“Oh, uh, h-hi.” He ran his hand through his long, shaggy auburn hair streaked with black. “D-Didn’t know you were-were bringing some-someone.” Alphonse held out his hand to Don. “Think we g-got off to a bad start. I, um, I’m Alphonse, ni-nice to meet you.” I was shocked at Alphonse’s assertiveness. Even though he still stuttered, he was definitely more courageous tonight. Of course, I really shouldn’t have been surprised given how different Alphonse acted on stage. Maybe he was pumped for the gig.
“Riiight.” Don returned the handshake sounding more patronizing than friendly. “Don.”
Alphonse either didn’t notice his behavior or else didn’t care. “I hear you’re-you’re a spawn player? Are you really gonna play for the Furies?”
Don popped his forehead up, looking down his nose. “Didn’t know you goth brats like spawn.”
Alphonse turned bright red. “Uh-um, well, yeah.”
“We’re not goth, and fuck you.” I went to the back of the stage and started setting up my Ailill Mac guitar. Its sleek black color and silver skulls caught the stage lights whenever we played. Ailill Mac guitars were arguably one of the best electronic guitar brands ever. They took their name from one of my idols, Ailill Mac—a badass wereduin and one of the few, most guitarists were zombies, with some humans in the mix.
“Fern, I’m getting a drink.” Don didn’t even ask me if I wanted anything. I got the feeling he’d prevent me from drinking tonight.
“So, Fern. Te-Tell me you brought a-another pick? Lucian seems to, um, have lo-lost his. Think he might’ve gone home for-for it.”
“He did?” I sighed. Even though Lucian rocked on the bass, he went through picks like blood-drinks. Sometimes they broke, but mostly he dropped them and wouldn’t bother looking for them. Said it would be his signature if we made it big.
“Uh, yeah, he was talking to Fa-Father on the phone, and it see-seemed like if Lucian d-didn’t make the trip, Father will c-c-come here.”
Shit! Lucian was the favorite godchild of his coven’s leader, who they all called Father, and he always went out on a limb for Lucian. I’d heard some vamps our age complaining, saying that he probably outranked Father’s own son. Something they thought would complicate things when Father chose an heir.
I searched my case, praying I had a few extra spares. “Please tell me Father’s not coming here.” I didn’t even want to think of what Don would do when he saw the leader of Lucian’s coven walk down those steps.
Just then, Lucian came gliding down the stairs. His platinum-blond long hair shimmered and offset the parts he’d dyed black. The black and the blond alternated down the length. It looked like a chessboard. His goth makeup was enhanced with red lipstick. He had a few picks in hand, and most importantly, he was alone. Thank Arduinna!
“Found them, huh?” I beat Alphonse to the question.
“Nah.” When he didn’t come off arrogant, Lucian sounded bored. “Loretta brought them to me.”
“Loretta? Father’s daughter?”
Oh shit!
I should’ve figured that Father wouldn’t run errands for a teenager, no matter how special.
“Yes, I couldn’t get her to leave, either,” Lucian grumbled. “She even brought Elliot. Figures she can’t leave her stupid, half-blood lover behind—” Elliot was also her seedling. Perhaps that was why Lucian disliked him as strongly as he did.
“Whatcha g-got against half b-bloods?” Alphonse asked. “They’re kinda cool. I m-mean, they unite our f-families, Lue.”
Lucian blinked at Alphonse, and his expression softened. “Uh, yeah, I guess.”
Alphonse brushed against Lucian’s shoulder—having to bend down to rest his head. “S-Sure, you guys are your own r-race. Y-You were born a v-vamp, but since hu-humans can become vamps—”
“Half-vamps,” Lucian cut in.
“O-Okay, but that still s-supports my theory of everyone c-c-coming from us.”
I stopped listening, too busy fretting. “Shit.”
“What?” Lucian raised his brow at me.
“Don’s not gonna like that.”
“Don? Your alpha?” Lucian’s bored tone tinged with irritation. “Wait, he’s here?”
“Yup!” Alphonse said happily and stopped leaning on Lucian’s shoulder. “And I-I introduced myself pro-properly this time.” He tied up his long hair into a ponytail, leaving the black strands around his face free.
Lucian’s eyes narrowed at me before he glared at Alphonse then scanned the crowd. “Why the fuck is he even here?”
“Who’s here?” Shamar came down carrying his drum cases.
“Fern’s asshole alpha.”
Shamar’s nose wrinkled in disgust, and he blew out a sigh. “Don’t tell me he wouldn’t let you come here without him?”
“Bingo.” I attached my extension to the plug socket and started tuning the guitar.
“What the fuck? Is he going to try to dominate every aspect of your life until you aren’t even your own person!”
“Wasn’t planning on it, brat. But it’s not a bad idea now that you’ve said it.” Don stood behind him, holding his drink. A faint pink entered Shamar’s green skin. The dark tone made it more noticeable.
He went to put his stuff down, putting space between him and Don. “Well, I think that’s horrible. And degrading. Fern isn’t a piece of property.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Don cleaned his ear with his pinky finger. “I’m taking a seat over there.” I was kind of shocked he didn’t tell Shamar off, but then Don didn’t seem to give a shit about my friends’ thoughts and opinions.
“Fern,” he leveled me with narrowed eyes, “remember what I told you.”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
Shamar knitted his brow, and his pupils darkened. With the blacklight causing his glossy stare to glow, he l
ooked terrifying. “Did he just ignore me?” He sounded like he wanted to chase after Don and punch him in the face.
“Forget it. He’s an asshole.” He always treated me like that. It was apparent he would win against me in a fight easily. But I wasn’t lesser because of that. The least he could do was not belittle me. It seemed like he did that to everyone he considered not worth his time—arrogant jerk.
I could tell where Don was because Shamar kept glaring at him. I wondered if Don would really start doing that—trying to dominate every aspect of my life. It wasn’t far from the truth. Otherwise, why was he here, anyway?
Other alphas.
He was here to protect me against other alphas. I hadn’t been to Crone’s Head since hitting breeding age. Would I really be attacked? That scared me. Not the alphas, but the idea I might no longer have my freedom to go places on my own. That pissed me off. Shamar must have read that to mean anger at Don.
“I’m working on a curse for you.” He kept glaring at Don.
For some reason, only the Gods knew what, I didn’t want Shamar to do that. There was no way I was going to voice it, though. I had a reputation to keep. “Won’t hear me complaining.” Holding my Allie Mac, I looked at Lucian. “Ready?”
At his nod, we played a few notes to get in tune and warmed up. Don’s eyes watching me from the crowd.
My fingers trembled, and I missed a note.
Fuck!
What the fuck did I care that Don was looking at me? It wasn’t like I was trying to impress him. I decided to focus all my attention on my music.
Alphonse’s loud—“Hey, hey guys, thanks for coming out!”—came a lot quicker than I thought, but I was warmed up and ready to play. “We’re Unalive!” Hearing him say our band’s name made it feel final like up until now we’d been trying it on for size. “Thanks for having us tonight. We’re gonna play a few-few classics for you guys tonight. But I wanted to start-start us off with something I wrote.” Alphonse had a habit of hogging the spotlight. It was weird, given how much he stuttered. But put him on stage in front of an audience and he shined. It even helped his stutter get better, if not eliminated entirely.
The Offering Page 19
