Let Him In (Let Him Trilogy)

by Davis, Sharon

  He didn’t want to like it.

  Tried not to.

  But the shivery tingle of the blood as it repaired his damaged cells and tissues created a euphoric feeling that was impossible to hate no matter how much he wanted to.

  And he did want to.

  Really.

  Moaning with a pleasure he hadn’t felt in years, Sammy closed his eyes as they rolled back. Somewhere beyond the buzzing inside his swimming head he heard a muffled voice.

  “Yep, it’s kicked in all right.”

  Sammy forced his eyes open and found Alexis leaning over him, her face only a couple inches from his. “Sissy!” With a lazy smile, he asked, “How feeling the heck you are?” He frowned. “That didn’t sound right...did it?”

  Alexis huffed as she stood up. “He’s good to go so can I let him up now?”

  “Yeah,” Sammy muttered, “what she said.”

  “No.” Zane pushed Alexis aside so that he could stand in front of Sammy. “His body has not completely repaired itself yet.”

  Alexis and Sammy spoke at the same time.

  “But that will take days and multiple feedings!”

  “Whatcha talking about? I’m as good as new!”

  “Really?” Zane said, arching a brow at Sammy. “Then stand up.”

  “Okay, I will!” Sammy strained against the thick strips of leather around his wrists and ankles for a few seconds before snorting laughter. “Duh! You gotta unstrap me first.”

  “If you were fully healed, Samuel, you would not need me to.”

  Grinning, Sammy let his head fall back against the steel chair. “Good point, bro.”

  “Bro?” Alexis rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe I’m going to say it but I think he’s actually more annoying this way.”

  Zane glanced at his watch then turned his gaze on Alexis. “Feed him another in six hours.”

  “Me? Why not you?”

  “Because I have to return to the city,” Zane continued in an exasperated tone.

  “But I need to feed!”

  “Tonight you will have to take from Samuel’s stock.”

  Her hands flew to her hips. “Why do you get to go out and have all the fun?”

  Zane inhaled and exhaled sharply. “Scrounging in and around dumpsters for food is not my idea of entertainment, Alexis.”

  “And chopping up these isn’t mine!” She delivered a swift kick to Becca’s side and then tossed a baleful glance in Sammy’s direction. “Neither is babysitting someone who’s old enough to take care of himself!” She dashed across the room, the lower half of her silk robe billowing out behind her like a red cape. Wrinkling his nose, Sammy tilted his head forward and whispered to Zane, “Ewww—Sissy’s not wearing underwear.”

  Behind Sammy there came a sound like a lightening strike and then a deep grunt followed by a soft whimper. Big Bad Bart doesn’t sound so bad now, Sammy thought as Alexis barked, “And I’m a hunter, not a scavenger!”

  “Alexis, enough.”

  “Yes,” she snapped, storming over to Zane, “I have had enough! Alexis, dispose of the bodies. Alexis, make sure your brother feeds. Alexis—”

  “Fine,” Zane interrupted, “you go and I will stay.”

  Both Alexis and Sammy blinked at that. “Why?” she asked with a look of suspicion.

  Zane’s eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. A sharp rush of air left his flared nostrils. “Because you are becoming as big a whiner as Samuel,” he bit out through clenched teeth. “And I am in no mood for it.”

  “Uh-oh, uh-oh,” Sammy sang, “someone hasn’t fed enough!” He chuckled. “Drink! Drink! Drink! Sissy, make him drink!”

  Alexis smirked at Zane. “Enjoy your evening with the whino.”

  Zane caught her by the wrist as she passed by him. “You will feed before you go.”

  “But—”

  “That is a non-negotiable requirement for your leave of absence, Alexis. You are making a supply run, nothing more.”

  Zane shoved her toward Big Bad Bart who instantly came out of his anemia-induced stupor. Mumbling incoherently in between faint grunts and whimpers, he strained against the leather straps that bound him.

  “All right, fine! But I’m taking the freshest one!”

  Alexis charged over to the freckled red-head next to the biker, who expelled what sounded like a sob of relief. Sammy sobered a little at the depressing sound. He still felt sympathy for the people trapped inside the steel room because of him, but the blood he’d been forced to drink made dealing with the guilt so much easier. It was the main reason why he limited his intake—he didn’t want to become a monster like his siblings. And no matter what they said, that’s exactly what they were...

  Things even the darkness feared.

  Chapter 16

  She was standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down into the bubbling lava hundreds of feet below. Sweat poured from her body, each drop hissing as it hit the surface of the blazing river. Her mouth was dry, her throat raw.

  Something blacker than the darkest of nights emerged from the red-orange lava—hair.

  She tried to swallow but couldn’t as a head slowly began to emerge. A forehead appeared, followed by bluish-white eyes that seemed to be made of lightning, and then all movement stopped.

  “Come to me,” a deep, soothing voice beckoned inside her mind.

  Shaking her head, she turned to run. Something hot and tight snaked around her ankle. She looked down and saw that it was a hand—

  Lacey sat bolt upright in bed at the sound of a scream, seconds passing before realizing she was the one making the terrified sound. Clamping a hand over her mouth, she looked at Casper who was huddled in the corner with wide eyes.

  Her hand dropped on to her lap. “Just a stupid nightmare, kitty,” she whispered in a raspy voice. “Nothing to get excited ov—”

  Lacey’s breath hitched.

  A dream. She’d had a dream.

  But she never dreamed, ever! So why now? What did it mean?

  Lacey took a deep, calming breath. “You’ve probably been dreaming all along,” she reassured herself, still feeling a tad disoriented as she climbed out of bed. “Just haven’t been able to remember them until now...that’s all. No big deal.”

  She shuffled on unsteady legs to the bathroom, feeling like she’d just stepped out of a sauna. She peeled off her sweat-soaked pajamas, turned on the cold water tap and then climbed into the shower, yelping when the arctic spray hit her breasts. Goosebumps erupted all over her body as her nipples puckered into rock-hard peaks that began to tingle in a not-so-unpleasant way. A mental flash of a pair of ice-blue, glowing eyes made her shudder so forcefully she almost lost her footing on the slippery surface of the bathtub.

  Lacey frowned. Why on earth would she be thinking about—

  “The dream,” she whispered, only then realizing who the star of it had been.

  But why him, for God’s sake? Why not the guy on that canceled TV show about those mutant people with powers, the one who could shoot electricity out his hands? She’d had a huge crush on him when she was nine-years-old. Of course that was before she’d realized that men were shit and had come to hate them, but still, if she had to dream about some stupid guy she’d rather it be someone nowhere near her.

  Pushing the image of The Man in the Van’s face out of her mind, Lacey began mentally preparing herself for the day ahead. After being ganged up on by The Unholy Trinity, she felt even worse about not only insulting Ghost Boy but doing so in front of so many people. Considering the way everyone had pointed and laughed at him afterward, it was safe to assume that he received similar treatment on a regular basis, which made her no better than them.

  And that angered her.

  She was nothing like them. They were sheep running with the flock, too afraid to stand alone—unlike Ghost Boy. There were things he could do to lessen the negative attention his appearance garnered, but he chose to be himself even though it meant paying for it by being ridiculed. In that re
spect, she couldn’t help but to admire him.

  After wrapping stained, frayed towels around her head and body, Lacey brushed her teeth and then returned to her bedroom. She towel-dried her hair, threw on some clothes, slipped on her shoes and then headed downstairs for a cup of coffee before she made the trek to school.

  Sipping from her personalized mug as she sat at the dining table, Lacey realized there was only one sure-fire way to ease the guilt that had been gnawing at her—she had to apologize to Ghost Boy. And then she would politely tell him that she wasn’t interested in making any friends and would really appreciate it if he respected her wishes on the matter.

  Lacey smiled, instantly feeling better.

  It didn’t last long…

  Ghost Boy was once again a no-show.

  “Relax.”

  “I um kying!”

  “It may help if you stop talking.”

  “Uh yuh kay ood iea.”

  Exhaling sharply, Zane jerked his arm back, yanking the rubber tube out of Samuel’s throat. Droplets of saliva and blood rained down on his bare arms as he began coughing and gagging. “You are quite the drama queen, Samuel.”

  His brother’s now ice-blue eyes widened. “Why do—” Cough. “—you say—” Gag. “—that?”

  “I wonder.”

  After one last forceful cough and gag combo, Samuel scowled up at him. “Am not, you big dummy.”

  Zane arched a brow. “I see we have now entered the ten-feet-tall-and-bullet-proof stage.”

  “Yeppers,” Samuel said, spittle making his smiling lips glisten. “Can I get up now?”

  “That is the question,” Zane replied, crossing his arms over his chest as he stepped back.

  “So...what’s the answer?”

  Zane expelled an exasperated sigh. “Clearly your damaged brain is beyond repair.”

  “Wha—”

  “If you ask me what that is supposed to mean I swear I will shove the fucking tube down your throat until it comes out of your goddamn ass.”

  “Gee, you don’t hafta be so shitty about it!” Samuel snorted. “Ass, shitty—get it?”

  Closing his eyes, Zane pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you finished?”

  Samuel huffed. “You’re no fun.”

  “Perhaps that is because I am not having any,” he exhaled.

  “Well lemme up and then go have some.”

  “Samuel, you know how I loathe having to repeat myself.”

  “Please, I don’t wanna be in here another night!”

  “Then free yourself,” Zane replied, eyeing the bound and gagged brunette on the floor. “Your dinner guest is waiting to be seated.”

  The girl released a muffled scream, which intensified the muffled whimpers, grunts and wails of the other three people Alexis had brought back from the city, who were squirming in their chairs.

  “I can’t,” Samuel replied. “I know I ain’t strong enough.”

  “Try.”

  “Please, if you let me up I promise not to starve myself again!”

  “Correction—you will not do it again because I will not allow you to. I have been too damn lenient with you, Samuel, but you can trust that those days are over.”

  “You can’t tell me what to do!” he barked, his face contorting with rage.

  “I beg to differ.”

  “I ain’t a child, dammit!”

  “Again, I beg to differ.”

  “I fucking hate you!”

  With one hard jerk the leather straps around Samuel’s wrists and ankles snapped. Springing to his feet, he lunged. Zane swatted him, sending him flying backwards several feet. Samuel tripped over the remains of his last meal and nearly fell on top of the female who, with another muffled scream, managed to roll out of his way before he hit the floor. With rapid blinks Samuel looked back and forth between the chair and where he now lay, no doubt surprised that he had managed to free himself, and so soon.

  “Congratulations, Samuel—you have now earned the privilege of cleaning up after yourself.”

  Zane glanced at the body on the floor and then at the female Alexis had found sleeping in a gas station bathroom. Her dirt-streaked, holey denim jeans and T-shirt, once white but now dingy and splotched with stains in varying shades of yellow and brown, swallowed her emaciated body, which made Zane aware of the gnawing hunger in his gut.

  “I am going out for a bite. I expect to find everything in order upon my return, understand?”

  Samuel flipped him off.

  Smirking, Zane strolled out of The Room. “Behold, the power of blood.”

  Chapter 17

  “Decisions, decisions.”

  Lacey picked up the beef flavored pack of Ramen noodles. Sniffed it. Tossed it back on to the table. Repeated the process with the chicken flavored pack. Sighed as she fell back against the chair.

  I’ve had a rough day…

  Looking out the window, Lacey squinted from the glare of the late afternoon sun glinting off the metal handlebars of her scooter.

  …I deserve a treat.

  She glanced at the green numbers of the coffee maker’s built in clock. Almost five-thirty. It would be six-thirty by the time she reached Burger King. Seven before she headed back. Sunset around seven-thirty. If she left now she could make it home before it got too dark.

  Returning her gaze to the scooter, Lacey began chewing on what was left of her pinkie nail. She used to love the night. Not anymore. Now it was just plain creepy. Howling. Growling. Grunting. She’d never heard such strange noises before, but then again she’d never lived in the boonies either. What kind of animal made those sounds? Bears grunted. Growled too, she supposed. But they definitely didn’t howl like a wolf. Wasn’t there a breed of dog that sounded like one? That had to be it, because there were no wolves in the area...at least there wasn’t supposed to be.

  Instead of a burger, maybe you should get a chicken sandwich...although that might make you a cannibal. Buck, buck, buck.

  Lacey stood up so fast her chair toppled over. She slammed her fists down on the packs of noodles, making the ends of the wrappers burst open and tiny squiggles of pasta shoot out all over the table and floor. No wonder the predators were descending—she was acting like prey. Every time she came face-to-face with The Man in the Van she acted like a frightened little girl. And instead of confronting The Unholy Trinity she avoided them, even opting to spend her lunch hour in the parking lot instead of the cafeteria where she knew they’d be.

  Lacey charged the front door. “I am not scared of men with glowing eyes or Barbie doll wannabes.”

  And if they wanted The Bitch, that’s exactly what she would give them.

  Clark tugged at the crotch of his jeans as he stared at the rounded flesh flowing over the neckline of Heather’s low-cut, fuzzy pink sweater. Even though he’d furiously fucked that cleavage less than fifteen minutes ago, just thinking about how white his cum had looked splattered all over the golden skin of her huge tits had him ready to go again.

  “Fine, then.”

  Heather gave her hair a flick as she faced forward. Clark wanted to cry when she crossed her arms over her chest, blocking his view of those perfect boobs.

  “You better pick up a super-sized bottle of lotion on your way home tonight.”

  She angled her head so that he could see the smirk on her glossy pink mouth, the sight of which made him recall the killer blow job she’d given him and almost had him shooting a load in his pants.

  “Enough to last you for a few weeks, which is exactly how long you’re going to be screwing yourself.”

  “Aw, babe, don’t be like that!” Clark reached out to touch her and she promptly slapped his hand away. “Ow! Stop hittin’ me!”

  Heather whipped around in the passenger seat, her hazel eyes blazing. “I. Can. Do. Whatever. I. Fucking. Want,” she yelled, punctuating each word with a flying fist to a different body part: Chest. Right arm. Left arm. Stomach. Right thigh. Left thigh. She saved his crotch for last, and when the r
uby and diamond heart-shaped ring he’d bought her last Valentine’s Day slammed home, he grunted like a pig and doubled over, his forehead smacking against the steering wheel.

  Tears sprang to Clark’s eyes, then trickled down his cheeks when he squeezed them shut. With a deep groan he began rocking back and forth as a tsunami-sized wave of nausea threatened to make him barf worse than he had at Parker’s last keg party.

  He knew they said love hurt, but day-um, man.“Cheap ass jerk!”

  Heather slammed the car door and then pressed her middle fingers up against the window before charging across the parking lot. Was it too much to ask to be taken to a place with class for a change? Arby’s Mondays. Kentucky Fried Chicken Tuesdays. McDonald’s Wednesdays. Burger King Thursdays. Pizza Hut Fridays. Wendy’s Saturdays. Taco Bell Sundays. Not only was she sick to death of all that carbohydrate-loaded junk, she was also tired of having to work out an extra two hours every night before bed.

  After a deep inhale, Heather yanked open the double doors. She held her breath until she was inside the restroom where the stench of greasy food wasn’t so bad that she felt like puking, which was what she hoped Clark was doing at that very moment.

  Heather swiped the spongy wand of her pink gloss over her puckered lips, ran a pink brush through her hair and then spritzed some Juicy Couture perfume on her neck before snatching her pink Blackberry out of her pink purse. She did a double-take when she glanced at the phone’s screen.

  Slapped it.

  Banged it against the sink.

  Looked at it again.

  Still, no text messages.

  “What the fuck?”

  She should have several by now:

  im so sry babe :(

  plz 4give me babe

  luv u so much babe

  plz talk 2 me babe!! >:(

  Maybe she’d hit Clark a little too hard this time?

  “Yeah right,” she murmured with a roll of her eyes as she stuffed the phone back into her purse. “Like there’s actually anything there to injure.”