White-hot agony exploded into my neck as I poured the bottle of peroxide onto the wounds. My vision went black and this time it didn’t clear.
Chapter Two
Ty
The apartment buildings rising to either side zipped by in a blur as my feet ate up the pavement, but it was not fast enough. He was pulling away. Eyes gleamed from the darkness as he chanced a look back at me. Damn, but the wiry little bastard was fast. A solid thud resounded as he leaped up onto and over the wooden fence at the end of the alley. To get more air, I bounced a foot off the concrete block wall of the closest apartment, then landed on top of the fence. I could have jumped straight up and cleared the six-foot height, but someone could have been watching. Better to make it look like I was just a fan of the move from old kung fu movies rather than have someone suspect the truth.
As I descended I scanned the area. An open green space stretched in all directions with a lawn that went for acres dotted with trees and bushes. My gaze cut through the dark easily enough, locating him already halfway across the lawn, the metallic green threads of those damn rockers of his gleaming in the moonlight. No one but him was in the immediate area.
“Raul, stop now and I’ll go easier on you!” I yelled. I didn’t need to see his face to know it was him. I’d know that detestable pine, nylon, and exhaust stench anywhere.
He flipped me the bird. I jumped from the top of the fence with everything I had, launching myself close to thirty feet. Wood splintered and cracked but it didn’t sound like the fence came down, so I didn’t bother to look back. The moment my feet touched the grass I took off. The whites of Raul’s eyes reflected the moonlight as he stumbled backward, mouth agape. He only got a few paces before I caught him within the shadow of a huge fir tree. I grabbed the back of his nylon motorcycle jacket—and a bit of his hair—and tossed him to the ground. He landed on his back and froze halfway up on his elbows. His breath came in gasps that had more to do with the stench of fear wafting off him than with being out of air. Rank as it was, the fear smelled better than that nasty cologne he was wearing. No doubt that had been a ploy to throw me off his scent. And it had worked, for a while.
“You just bit a woman. The Council will have your hide for that,” I said.
Not just any woman, but one with eyes like tiger’s eye gems that felt like they had tried to pull my soul into them. Even now I could not get her out of my mind.
“Stay out of this. It doesn’t concern you,” he demanded as he started to rise to his feet.
Fists closing, my chest rumbled with a sound that made him freeze before he could even get both legs beneath him.
“You are in my territory, which means it concerns me. And you broke one of the oldest laws, which means it concerns the Council. I am taking you back to Hemlock Hollow,” I said.
Light footsteps approached from all sides, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off Raul. Lips quirking up into a smirk, he rose into a crouch.
“I don’t think so. Like I said, this doesn’t concern you,” he said, voice filled with that damn bravado of his again.
But it was a misplaced bravado, because the ones I smelled in the darkness were not his people. Raul stood and crossed his arms while others leaped at me from the shadows. Dodging, I avoided the man coming at me from my right. I planted my foot into his back, right on the patch of his jacket, and sent him sprawling. Another came at me from behind. Lunging back and crouching at the same time, I grabbed his leg, yanked, and sent him flying over my back. Grunts and curses told me he had collided with either Raul or the other one. A fist flew at me from the left, my instincts pulling my face out of its path a second before it could connect. I grabbed ahold of the wrist attached to it, yanked it forward and down, and flipped the man onto his back.
They came at me again, slower but no less determined. I took them down yet again, bloodying a few lips and blackening a few eyes in the process. If they kept it up they would soon force me to do much more than that. The way they panted and heaved meant they would get desperate during the next round, which meant things were about to get bloody.
Off to my right, Raul battled with two of his own opponents. Whoever these people were, they planned to take both of us out.
From the shadows, another erupted, swinging what looked like a baseball bat. It connected hard with my left shoulder and knocked me off balance.
“Go the hell down, Viðarsson,” he said, voice little more than a growl.
He swung again, but this time I grabbed it in mid-swing and tore it from him. His eyes shot wide open, but to his credit, he did not cower. That was, I was certain, mostly because of his buddy trying to sneak up behind me. Without looking, I sidestepped and ducked, then whipped the bat around behind me to connect with the man’s midsection with a swing that would have earned me a home run. The others hesitated like they did not want to go another round. One of them suddenly slumped to the ground as if the very thought made him faint dead away.
The stories about me were not that scary.
Raul suddenly slumped as well, falling to the ground with the gracelessness of one who was completely out of it. Shit. A sharp sting in the side of my neck took my voice and my consciousness a moment before I could tell the others that I was one of the good guys.
Chapter Three
Sonya
The incessant beeping of my alarm pulled me from a foggy sleep. Since it was on my phone I could have it set for a tone or a song I liked, but then chances were it wouldn’t wake me. The sound was hollow, as though I was hearing it in a tunnel or from another room. Cold, hard tiles beneath my cheek yanked me back to what had happened with a clarity I’d rather not have. The stench of bleach, pine-scented cleaner, and dried blood nearly burned my nose it was so strong. That beeping soon birthed a headache that felt like it was trying to split the two halves of my brain apart.
I had to shut it off.
Muscles protesting like I’d run a marathon I didn’t bother to train for, I pushed myself up to a sitting position. Expecting to see blood, I searched the floor around me but found only a small pool near where my head had been. Base drums began to pound with the insistence of a war party inside my head, the volume increasing with each pulse of my alarm. The left side of my neck ached, but not as bad as I thought it would. Using the vanity, I pulled myself up, half expecting my legs to be shaky. But I felt steady, almost strong even. The nausea was gone too. Maybe he hadn’t bitten me as bad as I thought he had. Or maybe he had slipped something into my drink and the entire night was a drug-induced nightmare.
The mirror revealed four scabbed-over wounds surrounded by crusty blood that trailed down between my breasts, gluing locks of my black hair to my shoulder. It was hard to tell how bad it was under all the blood, but one thing was for certain: the bastard had actually bitten me.
I should have known better than to mess around with a guy who belonged to some kind of speed freak group he liked to compare to the Toretto family from the Fast & Furious movies. Though he had called them a pack instead of a family. It had seemed exciting at the time, but now it made me feel like an idiot.
Libido chalks up another point. Brains still remain at zero.
Alarm shot adrenalin through my veins, blowing my eyes wide open. Forgetting about the possibility of being weak from blood loss, I dashed into the living room, grabbed my phone off the coffee table, and shut the alarm off. For a split second, I thought about calling Nikki from work. But I felt all right. A quick scan of the room revealed it to be empty. Daylight streamed through the thin curtains, making me wonder how long I had been out. Bumps rose along my bare arms. I had to make sure no one else was here.
Speaking of my libido, what had happened to the Norse-god-looking guy? Concern nagged deep inside. I tried to tell myself it was only because he had come to my rescue, but I wasn’t making a very convincing argument.
Pulling out my mace, I worked my way systematically through my small apartment. I didn’t think Raul would come back, not with that big blo
nd guy chasing him off, but I had to be sure. I knew the sense of security the mace gave me was false—and that I wouldn’t use it on anyone anyway—but it made me feel better. Mostly I carried it because it was the last thing my dad had given me, and he had told me to always keep it close. Hell, the shit had probably expired.
The daylight made me worry about my rescuer a bit. He had said he’d come back to check on me. But considering that he looked like he could pass for Thor, I figured he could probably hold his own against Raul. Just in case, I peeked out the peephole in the door. After adjusting to the blinding light of day, all I saw was an empty walkway. The concern in my stomach blossomed into an H.R. Giger–sized alien. Part of me wanted to know what happened to him—needed to know—but first I had to take care of myself.
In the absence of the cacophony of the alarm, I could hear the buzz of the refrigerator along with a low droning that I thought may have been electricity. Maybe a transformer was going out somewhere. That had to be it. Concentrating, I tried to hear beyond it, to make sure no one waited around the corners or doors in the few rooms that made up my small apartment. Only when I was certain each room was clear and the deadbolt was engaged on the front door did I finally retrieve some clothes from my bedroom and return to the bathroom.
Hot water cranked as high as I could stand it, I climbed into the shower and let it pour over me, washing away the smell—if not the memory—of Raul. For some reason the floral scents of my bodywash and shampoo were so overwhelming that I had to use half the normal amount. Even then, the scents burned my nose, forcing me to rinse until I had washed as much of them from me as I could. Above them I could smell the soap scum clinging to what I thought had been a clean shower, and the hints of mold in corners here and there.
I returned to the bathroom mirror to inspect the bite marks again. The small exhaust fan clunked along like a wounded animal, scarcely clearing the mist. Pulling the towel—which smelled entirely too strongly of fabric softener—from my long hair, I used it to wipe the mirror clean. That was the last time I was buying the cheap shit. The spendy stuff had to smell better, or at least not as strong. Ugh. In a few moments the exhaust fan cleared away the film that remained. The four holes I remembered were covered with scabs that looked several weeks old. Around them my skin was only slightly pink, as if the wounds had been healing for some time.
“Impossible,” I murmured, not liking how loud my own voice sounded.
It occurred to me that maybe I had been passed out from blood loss a lot longer than I had thought. The ravenous grumbling of my stomach suggested that was a good possibility. What if I had been on the bathroom floor for days? No way. Then again, that entire night seemed impossible now. One of my first stops had to be the hospital so I could get a tetanus shot, because damn. Aside from the ick factor of being on the bathroom floor for who knew how long, another thought pulled a groan from me.
“I am so going to get fired.” Okay, maybe the hospital would have to be my second stop.
I dug my phone out from beneath the pile of clothes I had thrown on it. It hadn’t occurred to me to check the date when I had shut the alarm off. The display read June 12th, two days after the date with Raul. No fucking way.
“Yep, fired.”
Shuddering, I pulled my clothes on with a resigned slowness. I was so remaining celibate after this. For good measure, I slapped a few Band-Aids over the wounds. I would deal with the weirdness of what had happened with Raul later. Right now I had to face the music and prepare to beg to keep my job. Yeah, right, as if I could debase myself like that. After rushing through my morning routine and glancing in the empty fridge, I thought maybe I should try to grovel, at least a little. I tucked my cell phone in my pocket and opened the door.
On my way out I grabbed an apple and wrapped a silk scarf around my neck to hide the Band-Aids. I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone seeing the wounds and asking what had happened. Not until I figured it out. Midafternoon sunlight heated the concrete, bringing out the smell of tar and the moss that clung in the cracks and along the edges. A quick glance both directions revealed what my ears already told me: I was alone. No sign of Raul or the blond stranger. Designer cowboy boots—found at a thrift store—clicking out a rock song rhythm, I made my way down the shaded walkway between my apartment and the one crowded next to it. While I was possibly the furthest thing from a cowgirl, the boots made me feel badass, and right now, shaking in my boots as I literally was, I needed to feel a little badass.
Sunlight pierced through the gloom, forcing me to put my sunglasses on before I stepped out of the walkway between the buildings. The overwhelming tangy scent of freshly cut green grass tickled my nose so badly I had to suppress a sneeze. Damn if I couldn’t still smell the exhaust of the lawn mower. The groundskeeper must be close by. But I didn’t hear a lawnmower. Thankfully, the almost sweet scent of the tall pines that loomed over the three-story apartment buildings helped dilute it enough to be tolerable. The catchy, high-pitched tune of meadowlarks singing in the trees sounded particularly loud today, almost piercing. I tossed my apple core at the base of the nearest tree and watched the yellow-breasted birds descend upon it like a pack of dogs. Big though the Red Delicious had been, it hadn’t even taken the edge off my hunger. No surprise, considering I had been passed out on the bathroom floor for two days.
My mind started going over all the species of bacteria in a human mouth, then promptly launched into the diseases that could result from a bite. I walked faster.
Trying to look everywhere at once, I crossed the sidewalk at a brisk pace and leaped into my topless black 1975 Jeep CJ. Chills of trepidation raced up my back even though the streets were empty. I couldn’t shake that crawling sensation of being watched. Paranoia most likely, but that didn’t banish it. With one hand I twisted my long black hair up while the other reached for my ball cap from the center console. Hair tamed, I pushed the latest Stephen King novel I was reading aside and grabbed the screwdriver from the glove box, stuck it in the altered ignition and started the Jeep. Passionate as I was about restoring this rig, fixing the ignition was the one thing I hadn’t gotten around to yet. Reliable as ever, it purred to life despite my fear that it would fail like in a bad horror movie.
Common sense told me to go to the hospital and get checked out first. Regardless of how good the wounds looked, I had been bitten by a person and had been passed out for two days. I would need to get tested. Clearly all was not copasetic with me, what with the auditory heightening. But, it was hard to pay medical bills and college tuition while unemployed. Testing would have to wait. At least until after I tried to salvage my job. So several miles later, I turned left toward work at the intersection instead of right toward the hospital. After all, aside from being hungry and my sense of smell and hearing being totally out of whack, I felt fine.
The urge to speed was hard to fight, but I managed. No matter how early I got there, it wouldn’t make up for missing two days without calling. As the primary buildings of Twin Falls began to recede in my rearview mirror I relaxed a bit. Mostly hilly scrubland stretched out to my right, and fewer roads intersected with the highway I cruised down. Only a few cars shared the road with me, and none of them were sports cars like Raul’s.
Steeling myself, I took the side street off into the tree-covered hills that led to the bar. More than hunger rumbled in my stomach when the single-story dive bar came into sight, standing like a lone hitchhiker alongside the road. Two cars sat in the gravel parking lot: the owner/cook’s beat-up pickup and Nikki’s sedan.
The biting incident with Raul had shaken me in a way I really didn’t want to think about. Love-biting wasn’t something I was opposed to, but tearing into flesh with fangs, yeah I was against that. Part of me—hell most of me—wanted to believe the fangs had been a delusion created by some drug the bastard had slipped me, that or purchased from a costume shop. But wouldn’t cheap plastic fangs break before doing the kind of damage that left me passed out on the bathroom floor? Likely,
but maybe Raul had them specially made, which made him kinkier—and creepier—than I had imagined anyone could be.
Having stalled as much as I could, I removed the ball cap and ran a brush through my hair before leaping out of the Jeep. The brisk pace I kept while approaching the bar was out of a need to make up as much time as possible, or so I told myself. It had nothing to do with the way the scent of the pine trees bordering the parking lot drew me like a magnet, or the thought of someone that could be hiding in the shadows there. Someone in particular. Digging my keys out of my jacket pocket, I shook the notion off. Raul had gotten his twisted rocks off and was likely long gone by now thanks to the blond stranger. What had happened to Blondie, who knew?
Stale beer, salty pretzels, and the sweetness of strong alcohol assaulted my nose the moment I stepped inside the dimly lit building. Trying to breathe through my mouth, I wove my way between the tables and upside-down chairs that sat atop them. Jeans cut so short they barely covered the skinny cheeks of the ass they were meant to contain met me as I approached the side entrance to the bar. The blingy pockets didn’t help make that ass look any bigger, like I knew the woman hoped they did. Mousy-brown ponytail bouncing, she turned around with mop in hand. Her eyes went wide and she dropped the mop with a scream when she saw me. The sound pierced my hungover ears like arrows.
Bitten & Beholden (Children of Fenrir Book 2) Page 2
