I Bite She Sucks

by Bloom, Penelope

  "I actually really like lavender, but if-"

  "I was fucking with you. You'll get what you get."

  And with that, he closed the door.

  I flopped back on the bed and sighed. Just when I caught myself wondering if Riggs was really so bad, he’d go and say something like that.

  I’d actually dated a guy once in high school. I met him in one of my virtual school classes. We’d video chat each other after class each day, and sometimes talk for hours. He was into books like I was, even if they weren’t the same ones. We still had fun suggesting stories to each other. I’d tease him about how dorky his favorite fantasy and sci fi books were and he’d joke about how sappy and lame my romances were.

  He’d been so nice to me at first, but little by little, it soured. He started pressuring me to meet in person. No matter how I explained it, he would try to lay the guilt on hard enough to change my mind, but my sister always cut that idea off. The last thing you need to be doing is swapping spit with some teenager who probably bathes once a week.

  She was right, of course, but I still resented her for it. And the resentment only got worse when he started making excuses to miss our calls after class. Eventually, he broke up with me and blocked me online.

  I remembered thinking how the part that hurt most was seeing him go from this sweet, nice guy who seemed to really like me to a cold and heartless bastard over the course of a few weeks. Mostly, people figured out something was wrong with me and they didn’t bother getting close. He was different, and he was worse. I’d spent the years since remembering how it felt to watch him sour on me in real time.

  And now there was Riggs.

  Of course, I had to take all the supernatural stuff and throw that as far to the side as possible before I could even start to look at the situation.

  What I saw made my heart beat faster. I’d seen enough movies and read enough books to see through the smokescreens. People lied with their words all the time, but it wasn’t as common for them to lie with their actions. And Riggs? His words said I was a nuisance he wished he could be rid of as soon as possible.

  His actions, though? I thought of him coming all the way from the street to my apartment to tell me how reckless my little paper airplane was. Or how he’d apparently thought enough of the interaction to keep an eye on my apartment, because he was right there when we needed him. I thought of him carrying me when I got sick, and now looking after me and my sister. Protecting us.

  I stared at the ceiling; brow furrowed in thought.

  The question haunting me was what I’d do if Riggs actually did care about me like that? Would I want to go down the same road I’d gone with my virtual boyfriend back in high school? Force him to make accommodations for my condition until he felt as trapped as I was and decided to run for greener pastures?

  I let out a frustrated sigh and rolled to my side, staring at the door where he’d left.

  I was probably wasting my time thinking about it. All I needed to do was remember that Riggs was a man. A full blown, bonafide man. I was probably like a little, stupid girl to him. In all likelihood, I was misreading things.

  He popped back in the room, maybe less than a couple minutes since he’d left. “Crab or lobster?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “I’m getting you fried fish cakes. What do you prefer, crab or lobster?”

  “I thought I was going to get what I get,” I said, trying to mimic his deep voice.

  Riggs glared. “Lobster, then.”

  The door closed, and I found myself grinning.

  16

  Sylvie

  I lost track of time but thought it had maybe been a day since Riggs brought me to this room. There were no windows and no way to know what time it was outside. Our phones were dead, and I hadn't bothered to ask Riggs, who was usually busy bringing me meals or glowering in the corner of the room like he didn't even want the shadows getting too close to my bedside.

  He was as dedicated to watching over us as a guard dog. There was a relentless energy to him, and I'd literally seen him sleeping with one eye open a few hours ago. When I waved my hand, his other eye shot open and he had just stared at me before eventually closing his other eye again and going still.

  Fang was spending his time downstairs, as far as I could tell, and Felix hadn't returned since Riggs sent him off to find food for Maisey.

  I hadn't completely let myself consider what "food for Maisey" meant. She'd scarfed down what Riggs had brought her until our last meal. She looked at it like she wanted to throw up, then went back to her near comatose state.

  Thankfully, I felt like my energy was a little higher after the doctor's adjustments to my medicine and the pills Riggs had sent Fang to get from the pharmacy for me.

  I sat up in the bed, noting how desperately I needed a shower and change of clothes. I was still wearing the same oversized t-shirt I'd been rocking sans pants when I met Riggs the first time. Thankfully, I had put on a pair of athletic shorts beneath it but lounging in bed sick for a day or more made me feel like peeling it all off and jumping in a hot shower. He’d brought me some clothes that were in a plastic bag on the floor, but I hadn’t felt quite up to getting out of bed until today.

  The grossness clinging to me was quickly overpowering any lack of energy I had.

  The feeling was amplified when I looked at Riggs, who was watching me impassively.

  The more time I spent around him, the more wolf-like qualities I picked up on. He had all the intensity and bottled-up potential energy of a wild animal. He seemed to stalk when he moved, rather than walk. It was in the way he moved so smoothly and quietly, despite his size and apparent power.

  “How is Steve doing?” I asked. I’d almost forgotten about him, but it was hardly surprising since I’d only known him for a few seconds before he was nearly gutted and rendered unconscious by the cleaners.

  “Recovering. Felix agreed to take him to the Rebels when he’s well enough to move.”

  "When is Felix coming back?" I asked.

  "When he comes," Riggs said. His dark hair was a mess, and I suspected he hadn't given himself permission to leave long enough to take a shower since this started.

  "And how long do you suspect that might take?" I ground out.

  "Felix has connections to some of the rebel vamps. I have no idea what he's going to need to do, but he's going to figure something out."

  I sighed. Maisey was sweating in her sleep, forehead wrinkled in pain. She'd grown so pale I could see the blue webs of veins at her temples. Her lips were practically purple, too. "He needs to hurry."

  "How are you feeling?" Riggs asked.

  "Better. Medicine doesn't usually kick in that fast for me, but I guess I got lucky. It must've been a mild bug."

  "Good." Riggs closed one eye and leaned back against the wall.

  I wanted to groan. I'd been ripped from my boring existence to this, only to be plopped right back into being bedridden and bored out of my mind. If I sat in bed with nothing but silence for company, I was going to worry myself sick over Maisey. "Can you get me a book, maybe?"

  "A book?"

  "Those things with lots of words in them? Usually there's a picture on the front. Or maybe you're used to the ones with pictures on every page?"

  "Funny," Riggs said. "But I'm not leaving you alone to go get a book."

  "You said I'm safe here."

  "For now. And only so long as I'm here keeping the howlers from coming after your sister. Some of them have started to pick up the scent. There's a small group of them that gathered at the base of the stairs. When I go down for food, I can sense them thinking about coming up here."

  A chill ran down my neck and across my spine. "What is a howler, exactly?"

  Riggs hesitated, then seemed to decide not to answer my question.

  "You keep saying you'll only tell me as much as I need to know, but the more I know, the better I'll be able to survive whatever is coming."

  "Not necessarily
true."

  "What will it hurt? Don't the vampires already know most of this stuff, anyway? It's not like you're risking me telling them something new."

  Riggs met my eyes, and I wasn't sure, but I thought I saw the impression of a smile on his lips. "We share our body with our wolf. The stronger the mind, the more control the werewolf has over their humanity and body. When the change comes, not every werewolf has a strong enough mind to keep the wolf at bay. Howlers are more wolf than human. But we watch over them because it's our responsibility. They're like the children of our clans, and our inner wolves are especially protective of them."

  "Were you all born this way? Or is it if you get bitten?"

  "Enough questions."

  "Come on," I said, halfway pleading. I glanced at Maisey, then back at him. "I need something to keep my mind off all of this. At least talk to me. It doesn't have to be about werewolf stuff."

  "Then ask about something else," Riggs said stiffly.

  "Uh, why did you retire?"

  "Something else," he growled.

  I shook my head. "Okay, what does it mean to be the alpha of the pack, like you said you used to be?"

  "That's a werewolf question."

  I threw a hand up in frustration. "What's your favorite book?"

  "Twilight," he said, completely straight-faced.

  I stared, forehead scrunching. "Wait, seriously?"

  Riggs grinned. "That was a joke."

  "Ha ha," I said dryly. "Seriously. Favorite book? Mine is Moonlight Caravan, although it has kind of lost its steam with each sequel."

  Riggs studied me, then decided to dodge my question by prying. "Why is it your favorite?"

  "I guess it's one of those books where I'd trade my world for the one in the book, you know? That's why I can re-read it over and over. It's not about what happens, it's just about the world for me."

  "What's it about?" he asked.

  I was mildly surprised he was showing so much interest. I was grateful for the conversation, though, so I didn't stop to question it. I spent several minutes explaining it as carefully as I could without dropping any spoilers. Somehow, I felt confident Riggs the freaking werewolf would never sit down to read the borderline YA Moonlight Caravan series, but not spoiling books was as much a way of life as it was a practicality.

  I explained the tangled web of love interests, dangerous threats, and the complex world-building of the book in enough detail that my mouth was dry when I finally finished.

  Riggs, to my surprise, listened patiently and even asked the occasional question for clarity as I spoke. I wondered if it was because the book focused around werewolves and vampires. It was probably entertaining to hear all the things fictional work got wrong about the world he knew.

  "I see," he said.

  "Anyway." I blushed a little. I felt like a child for having so much passion about a silly book series, but it also wasn't like I had a whole lot of other options in my life. "You never told me your favorite book."

  He looked down, then shrugged. "Never been a big reader, I guess."

  "Oh," I said. "You should try some time."

  "Yeah, maybe. My sister was always reading anything she could get her hands on. But I guess it didn't rub off on me."

  "You have a sister?" I asked. I couldn't quite picture a female version of Riggs. The only image that popped into my head was a dark-haired, fierce Amazonian woman who looked like she could punch through brick walls. "Is she, you know, like you?"

  Something flashed in Riggs' eyes, but I couldn't put my finger on it. He looked like he was about to say something, then he just shook his head. "She's not like me. No."

  "So you weren't born like this?"

  "Enough questions. I'm going to run a bath for you. Are you well enough to take one?"

  "Do I smell that bad?" I asked, grinning.

  "I figured you would find it refreshing."

  "I would," I said. "I was just joking."

  Riggs walked into the small bathroom attached to our room and I heard the water start running.

  "You can take a shower first, if you want,” I said. “I promise I'll scream bloody murder if a squad of howlers shows up and tries to eat us."

  He paused at the door, then sniffed his armpit and winced. "I'll be quick." He went and dug in a small backpack I hadn't noticed and pulled out some clothes. When he went into the bathroom, he left the door more than just a little cracked.

  "You left the door open," I called out, almost desperately. I felt like I was getting shoved into the middle of a cliché movie scene where the character unknowingly strips naked in front of the cracked door, as if they forgot the potential love interest was waiting just on the other side.

  His face appeared in the crack. "I want to be able to hear you if you need me. Close your eyes if you want."

  Sure enough, he stripped off his shirt right in view of the cracked door. His back was to me, but I saw a crisscrossing of slash-like scars on his tanned, muscular back and what looked like claw marks. He turned, met my eye, and I thought I saw a brief flash of yellow.

  Then he walked out of sight and I saw a pair of pants and underwear get tossed at the edge of my view. A moment later, I heard the water splashing and running off him.

  I sank down into the sheets, taking deep breaths.

  I was not "the love interest" because this wasn't one of my books. This was real life, even if the rules of what constituted "real" decided to bend enough to include werewolves and freaking vampires.

  The point was this wasn't a story. The girl didn't always get with the guy, and the main characters didn't necessarily survive. There was also no plot armor to protect me from catching pneumonia in the middle of the second act and dying a sudden, ungraceful death.

  I'd spent my whole life cooped up and dreaming about being the characters I read about. But now I was getting a taste of that adventure, and all I could think was how terrifying it was.

  I closed my eyes and tried not to picture Riggs' naked body in the shower. I definitely tried not to think about how I could probably creep up to the door and watch him in there without him knowing. Because, yeah, emphasis would be on "creep."

  I might've been sexually deprived except for some text on cream-colored pages, but I wasn't that desperate.

  I could happily imagine what he'd look like without needing to stoop to that level.

  So I rolled on my side and enjoyed the mental image of water splashing across his scarred, sculpted body. But the picture of a restless group of howlers waiting at the bottom of the stairs interrupted my fantasy.

  I imagined them waiting with hungry eyes, the scent of my sister on their noses.

  They wanted to come up here and hurt her—hurt us. But the only thing standing between them and us was Riggs.

  Worse, I knew there were even more dangerous things lurking out there in the shadows beyond this bar. Things we'd have to face if we made it out of here in one piece.

  I shivered, and it had nothing to do with my fading fever.

  17

  Sylvie

  Maisey was getting worse and I was getting better. It felt like a cruel twist of fate.

  I was also battling the guilt for how much I was excited to be in the middle of something different, even if it was scary and dangerous. I believed Riggs would find a way to help Maisey, because it was impossible not to believe the man would do the things he said. There was so much intensity and clarity of purpose in his eyes and the way he carried himself.

  Riggs was like a force of nature, at least if nature had a tendency for abrasiveness and as much tact as a baboon.

  He was downstairs at the moment and I had some time alone with a book Fang had brought me a few hours ago. Fang was in the corner of my room watching something on his phone with an idle smile on his face.

  I still didn’t understand much about him, but he looked even younger than I was.

  I set the book down, then looked his way. “Did Riggs tell you to bring me this?”

&n
bsp; Fang looked up, then made a lip zipping gesture and winked.

  “How do you two know each other, anyway?”

  “Riggs was the alpha of my pack. The Silverbacks.” He grinned, pointing to the silver streaks in his hair. “When Riggs is in his full wolf form, there’s a streak of silver fur down his back,” he explained, as if that made it clear why he’d dyed his hair. “But I don’t care if he stepped down. An Alpha is an Alpha, and I’ll follow mine to the death if I have to.”

  “Why did he step down, exactly?”

  Fang pursed his lips and looked down. “That’s something for him to tell you if he chooses to.”

  “Yeah, but he won’t answer any of my questions if they’re personal. I’m trying to figure out if I can trust him, but he-”

  The door swung open and Riggs came in with two steaming soups and a big grin. “Clam chowder,” he said. He set them down and took one between his hands, slurping noisily as Fang tried to look like he hadn’t been talking to me.

  “You can go,” Riggs said after a few sips, nodding to Fang.

  Fang got up and gave me a quick nod of his head, then left.

  “You told him to bring me this, didn’t you?” I asked, holding up the book.

  “You’ll get better faster if you’re less miserable. I need you ready to move before our time here is up.”

  “I see,” I said. “Before, you said you are helping us just because it will piss the vampires off, right? But why now?”

  Riggs set his soup down, then met my eyes with that unnerving intensity of his. “It’s because of you.”

  “Me?”

  “You threw that dumbass letter out the window. I couldn’t believe someone so reckless was still breathing. All I wanted was to explain what an idiot you were, then you hit me with that bat.” He seemed to actually be smiling at the memory, even if only a little. “No woman has ever hit me like that, you know.”

  I scrunched up my nose, tilting my head. “You decided to come out of retirement to protect me because I hit you with a baseball bat?”