by Scott, Talyn
The permanent hard-on she’d left him with had wilted on first sight of more competition for her favor. Most of his rivals were immortal, though Blythe didn’t have a clue, and his mouth had tasted something bitter. Of course, that could just be his conscious talking. Sixten used a lot of miasma on Blythe to shield them in the alley and take advantage of their much needed alone time. After using both his sides, the Habaline and the Species, he’d brought her to a rocking climax that gifted him with the sweetest scent of her arousal. And the best part? From her smell, he knew she hadn’t been with Ryan at all. In fact, he doubted she’d been with a male in months…maybe longer.
He wanted to rub her scent all over himself. Wash his body with every aromatic essence she released and smell it on his skin night and day. He inhaled deeply. She still lingered around him with the feminine warmth that would’ve opened beautifully for him…over and over again. She had a body that literally stopped traffic, even today. And he wanted it back. He wanted all of her back, especially her heart.
He was trying to settle himself down with some deep breathing exercises, like ones the humans used. In and out. In and out. Fort Myers didn’t need a killer vampire on the loose, and right now; he wanted to take out every male within a hundred-mile radius of her – immortal or not. But when it came to Blythe, what else was new?
Sixten released a half groan and gripped the edge of a wooden picnic table in an attempt to steady the impulses pounding through him. He knew he couldn’t return tonight and snatch her up, knowing she’d only cede under compulsion. Whichever way he looked at it, she needed more time, or he’d have to enthrall her. He only hoped that he still had a chance to move things along naturally, albeit quickly. Tonight, she came apart in his arms, trusting him the way lovers do: For him to catch her when she fell, holding her until she put herself back together.
Still, there was no denying that his slimy shifter half deigned for the power found in ultimate possession. Since the Habalines arrived on Earth, they’d shamelessly overpowered what they wanted, which included females. Just took them wherever they stood, wherever they were, selfishly hunting without any regards to others.
Shifters slung women over their shoulders, willing or unwilling, like the Neanderthals of long ago. Since, in Habalines’ minds, they were absolved of any wrongdoing if they provided the women luxurious livability that was far better than anything they had before. What did shifters expect in return? Just mating. Serious, nonstop sex-o-thons where any given female would refuse to return to her old life afterwards, since mating was simply that good.
Sadly enough, there were times that Sixten couldn’t blame the Habalines whatsoever. Their blood rushed his veins, and their inherent impulses threaded through his mind with astounding logic. He’d felt that solid aptitude when Blythe had shut him down in the alley, and he’d fought vehemently not to change her mind the way shifters naturally do.
A cracking sound snapped him out of his lascivious thoughts just as dull splinters shoved themselves inside his skin. He should’ve taken care with the table top and not destroyed it, yet he welcomed the pain. At least, it was distracting him from something he really shouldn’t do. “Ah, but I want to.”
Kash misted in right on time and dropped an orange and black plastic bag on Sixten’s lap. Frowning faintly as he sat down at the wobbly picnic table on the edges of Centennial Park. Sixten rummaged through the bag and grinned like a five year old on Christmas morning. “A gift for me?”
“I tailed Anthony Giarrusso most of my day off, so you owe me…again.” Tight lines stretched across Kash’s otherwise perfect face as he muttered, “Do you know how demeaning it is for a vampire of my station to shop at Spooky’s Halloween Superstore?”
“I’ll admit I’ve never frequented that particular establishment,” Sixten answered in his best haughty tone, “but the drycleaners ruined my favorite cowl, and desperate times call for…”
Kash cut him off, “Did you know he actually works there?”
“No shit.” Sixten laughed evilly as he snapped off the plastic fangs attached to the neck of a chintzy, black cape. “Damn, let’s hope I never need dentures.” He clapped them between his fingers to the intricate beat of an age-old Spanish flamenco. “I would starve.”
“After staying there so long, I had to buy something,” he said irritably. “Humans are so suspicious.”
“Kash, you’re beautiful and scary. Humans love beautiful, but they don’t ‘do’ scary well.” Sixten ducked his head in the bag. “Where’s the black spray for your hair?”
“And waste more money on their stereotypical bullshit?” Kash stared at him blankly.
“I know, but the spray’s so campy.”
“Like all vampire-inspired puppets on public television.” He looked to the sky. “Darkness thickens. Anthony should be home unless he stopped somewhere.”
“You have his address?” Sixten curled his brow at Kash’s anxiousness.
“Strangely enough, he’s on Captiva,” he said uneasily. “I checked out the perimeter of his house before I came here. Like I said, he should be home by now if he didn’t stop anywhere.”
“And your radar is going off.” Sixten smiled dangerously, showing the bone-colored tips of his fangs. “You think little Anthony has a big secret.”
“Maybe,” Kash answered, “but if that’s true, we’ll have more questions than answers before the sun rises.”
“Just like the old days.” Sixten wagged his blond brows. “Let’s go have some good, clean fun.”
Six followed Kash and they misted near a half-built mansion on Captiva Island. After the economy took a nose-dive, many lost their shirts and couldn’t finish building their dream homes. A few of those abandoned homes were sprinkled between Captiva and Sanibel, but not many. “Are you sure this is the address?”
“Sure am.” Kash stepped over a broken cinder block hidden inside a thicket of weeds. “I hear a human heartbeat.”
Sixten inhaled deeply and shook his head. “Male.”
“His car isn’t here,” he said with a trace of uneasiness “If you mist inside and that’s not Blythe’s brother, someone’s gonna die of a heart attack when he gets a load of you in all your vampiric glory.”
Sixten had released the Species, deciding to scare the hell out of Anthony for treating Blythe so badly. His irises bled through, erasing the whites of his eyes, his bones sharpened, his fangs were in another zip code altogether and his body was prime and sublime – as usual. Just a minor backtrack to appease Kash’s nervousness, he threw on the silly cape to offset the Species cruel features. “Then, let’s lighten the mood some.”
“All those years ago when people told me you were crazy, I really should’ve listened.”
“I swear you’re on your period, Kash. Rag, bitch, moan, rag, bitch moan,” Sixten laughed while pulling out a black ski mask for his friend. “I brought this from home, hope if fits.”
“I can’t believe you’re wearing that cape.” Kash shook his spikey hair around before slipping on the mask. His lavender eyes flashed hotly inside the mask’s eyeholes. “What’s the point of this? He’s human, so I’ll just wipe his brain if he catches me.”
“It’s just not the same as getting away with something, though.” Sixten smiled wickedly. “As children, neither of us was allowed out on Halloween. Let’s just call this payback time to the humans that stole our fun.” He ran his hand over his hair, shifting his flaxen locks into something off a breakfast cereal box or a sixties sitcom.
“A widow’s peak, Six?”
“Just call me little Eddie.” He cocked his head. “Tell me it’s not hot, and I’ll tone it back down.”
Instead, Kash misted to the grey structure and Sixten followed. His words hit the sultry breeze, twirling around the dilapidated house, “Ah, Anthony, ready or not, here I come.”
“What the hell?”
“Trick or treat,” Sixten hissed like a thousand rattlesnakes spitting at once. Plaster shook from the ceiling, and s
ome pieces stuck to Anthony’s horrified face. He lifted him by the neck with one hand. Blythe’s brother was quickly turning the color of eggplant so fun times were going to be brief. “I heard you had cancer.” He protracted his fangs even more, ensuring they had an abundance of dripping salvia for the freaky effect.
“Oh, shit, Sixten?”
Sixten shook him furiously, snarling a breath away from his face, “Did your yearly allowance pay your medical bills?” He inhaled sharply at his jugular. “You couldn’t wait for my next wire transfer so you sent your sweet sister to live in a dump above a bar while she worked three jobs. Curious, though, you always had my number if you needed more funds, right? Or was there a particular reason you didn’t use it?”
“Lost it,” he sputtered and wheezed.
“Hard to breathe?” Sixten dropped him on the bare concrete without preamble. Tony rubbed his swollen throat and didn’t bother standing, he knew he’d just get knocked down again. “Funny how my appearance doesn’t shock you, nor do my chompers.” He snapped them as loud as a lion’s roar just to make his point.
“I didn’t know you were one of them.” He lifted shaking hands. “I’ve been trying to get her away from your type.”
Sixten suddenly straddled him, tightening his hand on the back of Anthony’s nape while smiling down with deadly intent. “It’s dinner time.”
“NO!”
“Don’t you know it turns me on when my victims resist,” he said silkily, “not to mention that it spices up the blood? My sick libido at its worst, it’s a hard thing to fight, Tony.” He hissed again, the slow panting sound his vampire side made when it was about to strike. And he did. It wasn’t a lover’s strike, or even a bite carefully placed to cause the least amount of damage. It was one Sixten wanted Anthony to see in the mirror when he woke up in the morning. He swallowed at his throat, taking his time as Blythe’s brother struggled under his insistent hold. After a half pint, he released him, licking his pinpricks closed even though he wanted nothing more than to let him bleed-out. But wouldn’t Blythe get pissy about that?
“Well, I can’t concur with your medical team.” He smacked his lips in delectation. “Tony, my man, you’ve been healed.” Sixten slapped his palm on his forehead but didn’t laugh. “Tell me why you’re working your sister to death and stealing the money that I’ve provided for her generous care for the past eight years, all while not paying a dime to rent or any mortgage.” He clucked his tongue. “You’re obviously going for squatter’s rights in this lovely home away from home.”
“Please, get off me.”
“Gladly,” Sixten agreed, misting four feet back and leaving Anthony to stare in shocked amazement.
“I feel dizzy.”
“You idiot, I hardly touched you.” He continued with a bored tone, “Now speak before I show you my dark side.”
“Or mine,” Kash glided in with his mask in place. “I found this.” He pitched a computer hard drive to Sixten. “I plugged it in his laptop while I was upstairs.” He turned his head to Anthony and shook his head sadly. “His password is fangs.”
“To think, I just called him an idiot, yet I’m clearly mistaken.” He waggled the hard drive between his long fingers. “What’s this?”
“Pictures of beautiful women, including his sister - Blythe,” Kash answered. A howl of rage echoed the empty house, releasing more plaster as the walls vibrated. Before Sixten went for Anthony’s throat again, Kash moved in quickly and pulled him off. “Not those kinds of pics, Six, calm yourself. Oddly, they’re just headshots.”
“What the fuck are you up to, Tony?” Sixten ripped off his cape and returned his hair to normal, but the Species stayed front and center. “I repeat. You know about our kind, you are sucking money out of your sister when I pay you to keep her in luxury, and you live here rent-free. Confess.”
Kash reached behind him and threw several blocks of money onto the floor between Sixten and Anthony. “There’s more upstairs.”
“That’s got to be at least…”
“A hundred grand.” Kash was baffled.
“And you’re saying there’s more.”
“Loads.”
“I’m waiting on your little revelation, Anthony,” Sixten lowered his voice a menacing octave. “Since you know who you’re dealing with, it’s not hard to figure out what we can do to you, while leaving no evidence after we’re done.”
“You wouldn’t do that to my sister.”
“Tony, in all my years, I’ve never come across such a worthless fool,” he enunciated every word, staring at him as if he’d lost his mind. “She wouldn’t know I did it, douche.”
“She would grieve me.”
“Not for long. At this point, you’re simply baggage. The kind lost at the airport, which no one bothers claiming because they don’t give a shit over something they don’t really miss.”
“I’m glad she dumped you.”
“Are you now?”
“She deserves better than you.”
“Broken record - new day.” He aimed his index finger towards Anthony. “I have news for you, brother of the year, Blythe deserves better than you.”
“Off topic,” Kash interrupted.
Sixten knew Kash was right, but some things needed saying - no matter the situation. “You are going to stay away from Blythe. Do you understand?” He got right back on top of Anthony, seething with barely leashed rage. “She will not be brought into any shady shit where you’re concerned. Shake your head yes if you can hear me.” Since Sixten had him by the throat, Anthony couldn’t speak and barely could nod. But he did. “Now, that’s a good boy. This is your last chance to come clean, before three take a walk but only two will return.”
Right as Sixten released him, Anthony pleaded, “You’re bringing attention to this place, and if there ever was a time you truly loved my sister” - he stopped to stifle a cough and rubbed his throat - “you’d leave…before she’s lost to them…for good.”
Icy fingers climbed Sixten’s spine. “What are you babbling about?”
Anthony trembled, crab walking backwards since his legs wouldn’t hold him upright. Sixten took the opportunity to kick him in the ribs and slow him down… and because it felt really good to do it. “Answer me! What them are you talking about?”
“She doesn’t know it, but she’s, uh, part other.” He clutched his middle and winced at the sharp pain.
“Part other?” The players were moving around on the field and Sixten didn’t have the home advantage.
“I’m protecting her,” Anthony squeaked.
“The money, what’s with the money?” Kash interjected in a low methodical voice. “Things don’t line up with me, pal.” He leaned down and placed his face in Anthony’s pain-stricken one. “In our world, if you’re protecting someone, you pay, not the other way around.”
Sixten toed a booted foot on Anthony’s knee and stilled his feeble attempts at escape. “And you’re definitely in our world.” He knew he wouldn’t get any answers that would help Blythe without a little more pain-induced persuasion, so he slammed his foot down until he heard a sickening crunch. One that had Anthony screaming to every Saint he could name. “Don’t play in our sand box, Anthony,” Sixten hissed. “Our kind doesn’t like to be double-crossed by a mere mortal. And if Blythe needs the protection you speak of, you should have come to me long ago. I protect what is mine.”
Sixten smelled them at the same time his friend did.
“Full-blooded shifters!” yelled Kash, reaching for a sawed-off inside his leather duster. He brought out the weapon as a bony hand immerged from a solid, concrete wall. More and more pushed through, long nails scratching the coarse surface as they pressed themselves inside the house.
Anthony bellowed, inching off slowly since his injuries were hindering. Sixten lunged in order to mist him away. Kash lifted his gun and shot the first shifter, then the second, but he was too late to hit the monster who plowed through the side. Its empty, glazed eyes fixated o
n Blythe’s brother before it twisted its incandescent arm, shaping it into an overgrown icicle and driving it through Anthony’s skull. All the while, with the exception of a mass overspray of blood, it easily missed Sixten.
Sixten dropped Anthony’s lifeless body to clear his vision. After quickly wiping the blood from his eyes, he toppled Kash, steering his gun in the opposite direction, away from the creature. “It’s pointless,” he thundered, “Mist to the sanctuary. I don’t feel like picking your brains from my hair, too. Anthony’s is enough.” More arms pushed through the walls before sunken faces turned their eye sockets on them. “Go, Kash!”
After Kash disappeared, Sixten spun around to face the big one. “Why’d you shut him up?” he questioned, gesturing in the direction of Anthony’s gory remains.
The creature immediately transformed into pure, male beauty. A breathtaking man resembling a human in many ways, but he was too stunning to be categorized as such. Sixten recognized it as its truest form. The others followed suit, leaving their zombie-like forms to resemble gods strolling the earth. Mortals could hardly look upon them in their truest form, some immortals as well. Their incandescent eyes conveyed a thousand sunsets, lighting up Anthony’s humble abode until it glittered like Christmas Mass in the Sistine Chapel.
“There’s not much worse you can do than killing my mate’s brother,” he said carefully, though honestly, Anthony’s death didn’t disturb him the way it should have. Not to mention, he needed answers, which the Habalines had now shot to hell. “How am I supposed to explain this?”
“You have a chosen mate?”
Sixten didn’t personally recognize any of them. But he directed all comments to the one that killed Anthony. Figuring him to be the leader of this particular killing spree, at least, he earned the right during the horrific showdown. “Yes, I have a mate.”
The Habaline leaned down and rubbed his hand across Anthony’s brutalized body. “He paid for his mistake.”
