Friends With The Monsters

by Albany Walker

  Chapter 3

  “Sorry that took me so long,” I apologize, huffing a little from racing down the stairs. Once I left my bedroom, I had this irrational fear he was going to disappear if I didn’t get down here fast enough.

  Gunnar rakes his eyes over me, starting on my black painted toes, up my legs, and pausing on the way my chest fills out the sweater. Good call, Aeson. I’ll thank her later.

  When his eyes finally meet mine, I tilt my head and cock my hip, letting him know I caught him looking.

  He swallows. “I’m ready when you are.” His voice is a little raspy—I like it.

  I turn and motion for him to follow. “Let me just grab my shoes and keys. The garage is this way.” I don’t need to check to make sure he’s following me. My senses are keenly aware of him.

  Gunnar runs his hand over the rounded top of my car. “This is Betty,” I say, introducing him to the beauty.

  He blinks at me a few times. “You named your car?” he questions slowly.

  “This isn’t just a car.” I narrow my eyes on him and stroke Betty in apology for his blunder.

  Gunnar raises his hands and takes a step or two backwards. “Sorry. I won’t make that mistake again.” His brows dip, like he’s trying hard to control his facial expression.

  “Just get in,” I grouse.

  “I don’t think I even know how.” He peers at the door, looking left and right, then traces his fingers over the flat door handle.

  I push past him and tip the handle so it pops out. “My lady.” I motion for him to climb in the open door. Gunnar’s jaw tics twice. I like poking fun at him.

  I make my way around to the driver’s side and slide in. The seat is low, but it cradles me more comfortably than any other car I’ve ever owned.

  “I wasn’t sure I was going to fit, but it’s surprisingly roomy.”

  “That’s what he said.” I chuckle at my own lame joke and tap the button to open the garage. The engine purrs to life with a throaty growl. Gunnar looks at me with raised brows. “You didn’t just think she was a pretty face, did you?” I caress Betty’s wheel. “So, where to?”

  “You can just take me to town, if you don’t mind. I’m meeting someone there.” Gunnar makes himself comfortable, shifting in the seat.

  Just someone, huh? I don’t think I like the sound of that. It sounds like it might be a woman. “Where are you meeting your friend?” It’ll take me a good twenty minutes to get to town—more if I drive the speed limit. Plenty of time to find out a few more details about Gunnar and, hopefully, discover exactly what he is.

  “Not my friend.” Gunnar’s voice goes a little dark. “Do you know Rumors?” He casts me a sideways glance. Definitely a woman then. Rumors is one of the local clubs that caters to a darker clientele. I’ve even found a few monsters there.

  “I know it,” I confirm lightly. “I’ve never seen you there.” I keep my eyes on the two-lane road that leads into town. It’s pretty empty, but I keep my speed under seventy, even though it’s hard. Betty likes to stretch her legs.

  “I’m not in the club often. How about you?” He’s fishing.

  “Maybe a few times a month. I like to dance.” And eat, but I don’t say that part out loud. One night at Rumors and I’m good for a week, longer if I can find someone who’s cheating or being deceitful, which is pretty much everyone there.

  Plus, I have other needs that need to be addressed. I never bring anyone home, but the men and women at Rumors know the score. No one goes there looking for a long-term commitment. It can be hard to find someone who’s not full of sins and suitable for my more essential hunger, but I don’t like mixing necessity with pleasure. Something about feeding off someone while I fuck them turns me off.

  Gunnar makes a harrumph sound and crosses his arms over his chest. “You might know the person I’m meeting there.”

  “Oh yeah, who’s that?” I keep my voice light, pretending I’m not dying to know.

  “Vanessa.” He turns his head and watches me for a reaction. I force myself not to sneer. I know Vanessa. Who doesn’t know Vanessa? She owns the fucking club and she’s a fucking gorgeous, sexy-as-hell redhead with a killer body.

  “Oh yeah, I’ve met her a few times.” She’s also full of sins. I fed off her once, but she left a bad taste in my mouth, so I’ve stayed away from her ever since. “Do you know her well?” I merge onto the highway. The traffic here is still light, but we’re getting closer to town, so it will only get heavier now.

  “I’ve known her for a long time,” he answers, evading the question. I tap my fingers on the top of the steering wheel. I’m tired of his avoidance.

  “How did you end up at my house, in my house?” I decide to just ask him outright. I hear him suck his tongue against his teeth. “Let’s drop the bullshit, shall we? I’m pretty sure you’re not just a human.”

  “I was,” he says softly. “A very long time ago.” Gunnar looks down at his large hands, his palms facing up.

  “And now?” I’m almost breathless with the knowledge that he’s different, like me.

  “And now I’m not.” He settles his hands on his legs and stares straight forward. His body language is telling me he’s done talking about it.

  I almost press him, almost demand he tell me more, but I don’t. I have a strange desire for him to want to tell me about himself without me prodding.

  “I’m not human either,” I tell him, even though I’m pretty sure he already knew that. “I don’t even know what I am, really,” I add blandly. It doesn’t bother me as much as it used to, but I’d still like to know where I came from, and if there’s anyone else out there like me.

  I pull into a dark parking structure adjacent to the club. The growl of the engine echoes off the cement walls and ceiling as I find a parking spot on the first level.

  “You’re coming in?” Gunnar actually sounds a little panicked.

  “Might as well, I don’t get into town all that often.” I cut the car off and open the door. “Don’t worry, I won’t cramp your style.” I give him a tight smile.

  “I don’t want people seeing us together.”

  My head jerks back, but I let out a bitter laugh. “Harsh much?” I turn and walk away from my car, leaving him standing in the parking garage. Over my shoulder, I wave at him with a single finger salute. “Fuck you, too, Gunnar. I should have let your guts fall out.”

  Even my stomping footsteps don’t hide the sound of his shoes eating up the distance between us. He grabs my arm, but I tug free from his grip and slowly turn to face him. “Don’t. Touch. Me.” I let a little of my power seep into my voice. I’ve never had to fight anyone physically, but I feel like I could rip his head off right now if I wanted to.

  “That’s not what I meant. You took what I said wrong.” Gunnar pulls his hand back and drops his arms to his sides.

  “So, it meant something other than you don’t want people to see us together? Maybe I need to get my ears checked, ‘cause that’s what I heard.” I cross my arms over my chest. I’m offended. I’ve never had a man say they didn’t want to be seen with me. I’m fucking beautiful—I don’t even need a dash of makeup. My skin is flawless, my lashes are long and dark even though I’m a natural blonde, and I have lips that make men dream of blow jobs. I could give Vanessa and her fake, fat-filled ass a run for her money any day of the week.

  What the hell is wrong with me? Until I met this man, I could count how many times I’ve been insecure on one hand, but between the shitshow with Aeson earlier and now, I’m about to surpass my old totals.

  “Most people don’t like me, Damiana. If people saw us together, they might hurt you because of me.”

  I skeptically peer sideways at him. “I’m not sure if I should believe you, or if you’re trying to cover your own ass.”

  “When I said I didn’t want to be seen together, it had nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me.”

  I unfold my arms and smooth down the front of my sweater. “Okay, bu
t you should work on your delivery.”

  “I will,” he promises.

  “I’m still going in there.” I motion over my shoulder in the direction of the club. “I’m really not worried about what people think, or if people see us together, but if it makes you feel better, you can ignore me.” I walk away from him then, even though something inside of me is rebelling at the idea.

  Sauntering over to one of the many exits of the parking structure, I take note of the city around me. It’s Thursday night: not the best night for hunting, but doable. The sidewalks are teeming with people walking to and from bars and restaurants.

  “Cindy knows I’m not coming home. I told her I’m tired of her thinking she can run my life.” I slurp up the little lie like an hors d’oeuvre. The man talking to his buddy gets a small smudge on his soul for his sin. I squint my eyes and notice all the spots starting to pool together. If he keeps it up, there will be consequences.

  Big lies, little lies they all leave a mark, even the ones we tell ourselves.

  “Hey, beautiful, not your usual night,” Mick the bouncer drawls as I approach.

  “I was in the neighborhood,” I reply, letting my eyes scan past the smallish line of people waiting to get in. “Busy?” I raise my brow, a little surprised.

  “Usual crowd for a Thursday.” He steps to the side and sends his arm out in a slight wave, indicating I’m good to go right in.

  I never have to wait, but I never presume that will be the case every time, either. “Thanks, Mick.” I give him a kind smile as I pass. His cheeks actually tinge a slight pink as I do.

  “Anytime, beautiful,” he mutters almost wistfully.

  The hall is dark, lit with only blue, cone-shaped lights directed at the high ceiling. I’m not sure I would want to see what’s staining the wall below the lights anyway. After a short walk, I meet another bouncer, but this one is newer. I don’t know his name yet.

  He opens the door with a slight bow, tipping his head to me. It almost feels purposeful, not just a standard greeting. I open myself up to see if he tastes human, but this close to the club my senses always get muddled. The only way I could be sure about him would be to touch him, and I don’t want to invite that kind of familiarity. I keep my eyes on him as I pass, but he directs his gaze to the floor.

  The rush of energy from the club doesn’t wait for me to enter. Instead, it pours out the door and slams into me like a physical wall, distracting me from the strangeness of the security guy’s behavior.

  I let my head fall back loose on my shoulders and accept the waves of sin tingeing the air. My stomach aches a little with a hunger pang as I step through the door and into the club proper.

  I glance over my shoulder, wondering if I’ll catch sight of Gunnar. He’ll probably wait another few minutes before even coming in. If he knows Vanessa, I’m sure the security knows him, too, so he probably won’t have to wait in the line either.

  A man passes me, near enough to touch. He’s leaning in close to a cute girl with blue dyed hair, chopped into pixie cut, her eyes are all soft and glassy. She’s either already a little drunk, or she’s buying into every line he’s cooing into her ear. There’s no major deceit, just the little things people say to one another when they want to get laid. I guess it’s probably something like ‘you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,’ or ‘I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you.’ Bullshit, utter bullshit, but it’s what she wants to hear, and he’s more than happy to oblige if it means she’ll let him fuck her against the wall later tonight.

  I take in the tiny lies and move deeper into the club. The dance floor is filled with girls dancing alone and in groups. Most of them have their arms raised in the air and are rolling their bodies seductively. I take note of several men on the outskirts watching the show, most of them with lust in their eyes and hearts.

  One couple catches my eye. She’s a pretty blonde, with her hair pulled back into a messy bun, letting a few soft tendrils fall around her face. She’s tugging on the hem of her short skirt as if she’s completely uncomfortable, while her eyes are trained on the man next to her—probably her boyfriend, if the anger seething off the blonde is any indication. She’s absolutely enraged at the way he’s watching the other girls and ignoring her. His eyes are bouncing over the dancing crowd, until he finds a dark-haired girl. Her skirt is so short you can see the bottom of her ass cheeks as she hops around.

  Her arms are thrown in the air, and she’s dancing like she doesn’t care who’s watching. She’s not being overly sensual, but something about her screams confidence, and that is sexy. She doesn’t have to try.

  I make my way over to the bar, keeping my eye on the three of them. My bet, and I’m usually right since I have a knack for these things, is that before the night’s over, I’ll have a fat meal from whatever is brewing between them.

  “Hey, what can I get ya?” Nat’s tits are almost spilling out of her tight cut-off shirt as she grins at me, leaning over the bar.

  “The usual,” I tell her, and give her a wink to let her know her efforts aren’t wasted. Nat and I had a night of fun a few years ago, and since then we’ve played the flirting game. She knows I don’t double dip—I’m a one-and-done kind of girl— and she knew that before taking me back to her place.

  “You got it. Anything else?” Nat traces her fingers between her cleavage in an offer.

  I meet her eyes. “Just the usual.” I make sure that my voice is kind, but that she also knows not to ask again.

  “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” She shrugs her shoulders and cracks open a silver bottle of water that promises it’s from the rainforest. It’s probably bottled in New Jersey, but I don’t care as long as it’s sealed.

  Nat pushes the bottle with a small napkin under it over to me. I already have a twenty-dollar bill on the bar to slide over to her. She drags the bill back and tucks it into the front pocket of her cut-off shorts, knowing it is hers to keep.

  I turn and face the dance floor again. My blonde friend is trying desperately to get the man’s attention, but he can’t be bothered because he’s too worried about the guy who’s dancing really close to the dark-haired girl.

  I see a short exchange between the man and the blonde. He jerks his hand in the other woman’s direction. The blonde lays her palm over his chest and gives a small shake of her head. I move a little closer, the drama of the moment pulling me in.

  “She’s fine, Craig. She does this every weekend,” she tells him, and it’s not a lie.

  “Look at that guy—he’s a creep—and she’s been drinking,” he spouts back.

  “So, let her have fun. I thought that was what we were here for. You said you wanted to dance, but you haven’t danced with me once.” I can hear a little anger seeping into the blonde’s voice, but Craig ignores it.

  He flings her hand off his chest. “If you want to dance, go dance. Nothing is stopping you.” He’s angry, too, but not at the blonde. He’s pissed at the guy who has his hands wrapped around the friend’s waist.

  “You don’t give a shit about what I do, but you’re worried about Carissa,” the blonde spits. He spares her a glance as she storms into the middle of the dance floor.

  I’m close enough to him now to hear him mutter, “Yeah, ‘cause no one wants to fuck you.” It’s a tiny lie, one he tells himself, because he doesn’t want to be with her anymore. If I’ve seen this once, I’ve seen it a hundred times. The blonde is safe. She’s sweet, she’s the one his parents expect him to marry because she’s loyal to a fault, but he can barely stand looking at her any longer.

  With the blonde gone, Craig makes his way over to the friend. “Hey, Carissa, you doing okay?” he asks the question to the girl, but stares down the guy that’s been dancing with her. Carissa giggles and leans into Craig’s chest.

  “I’m so glad you guys are here. Where’s Lindsey?” She peers over Craig’s shoulder.

  Craig uses the closeness to wrap his arm around Carissa’s back and pulls her in clo
se, creating distance between her and the other man.

  Without answering the question about where his girlfriend is, he starts swaying to the music, still holding Carissa tightly against him.

  It doesn’t take her more than a handful of seconds before Carissa is moving right along with Craig.

  The low simmer of rage tickles my senses, and my eyes are immediately drawn to Lindsey, the blonde. She’s standing a few feet back into the crowd and her hands are balled up into tiny fist. I’m pulled to her and the vengeful wrath she’s feeling. I glance over my shoulder once to see Craig dip his head close to Carissa’s neck as his hand slides down to cup her ass.

  The hurt and anger from Lindsey mixes together, forming a potent feast. I open myself up to the sins from Carissa and Craig, making my way over to Lindsey for the real meal.

  Her emotions are justified, so the smudge left on her soul for the searing hate she’s feeling doesn’t so much as leave a mark, but more of a scar. This is something that will shape the rest of her future.

  Many things can happen from this point on. She could act on the rage building inside of her, but doing so would make the smudge Carissa and Craig are getting for their deceit look like a tiny stain in comparison.

  Lindsey’s feelings aren’t going to get her in trouble, but acting on them will. Delivering her vengeance, as deserved as it is, would earn a mark that would eventually sully her soul.

  I taste Lindsey’s heart-searing pain when I take in the essence of her sin. She loves Craig. Even when she knew he never loved her as much as she loved him, she thought she was enough, thought if she could be everything he wanted, then he would come to need her the way she needed him.

  I shiver as a true desire to hurt Craig and Carissa overcomes Lindsey, but it dissipates just as quickly as it came. I watch as inky black spots bleed together over Lindsey’s heart, changing the person she is. I almost feel sad for her. If I could see my own soul, I bet I would have a black shield over my chest, much like the one she’s forming now. But I’m not sure if I even have a soul.