Thicker Than Blood (Thicker Than Blood #1)(71)
Stopping, I stared at the small bodies of animals roasting on top of a metal barrel that had been fitted with a grill, flames burning low from inside its depths. Their fur had been stripped, revealing the soft, meaty flesh beneath, and the scent coming off their quickly crisping bodies was utterly delectable.
Behind the barrel, both a man and woman were working the grill, flipping the animals, replacing the fully cooked with new pink meat. I watched them work for a moment, noticing that the woman had a similar brand on her wrist, as well as a wedding ring on her finger. She was pretty in a basic sort of way, clean and pale, with long brown hair tied back in a low ponytail.
“You from the wild?” she asked, her voice surprisingly rough, like that of a pack-a-day chain-smoker.
“The wild?” I asked, hungrily staring down at the meat. Jeffers had said something similar, but I had no idea what he’d meant.
“Out there,” the man answered and glanced behind me, past the electrified fences, beyond the gates. “The wild.”
He was clean shaven, and I could see the small scars that covered both his chin and neck. He watched me a moment, looking thoughtful while running his tongue along the edge of crooked yellow teeth.
“Oh,” I replied. “Yeah, I am.”
“How is it?” the woman asked, her hands still busy working the grill. She was in the process of skinning a rat, deftly freeing its wrinkled skin from its little body, revealing the muscle underneath, and placed the fur in a neat pile with the rest. “Is it still—”
“You know it is,” the man interrupted her gruffly, giving her a hard glare. “Don’t ask stupid questions.” He turned to me, his irritation evident. “You buying?”
“I, um, how do I buy something?” Rat or not, I was famished. “I don’t have anything.”
“Then you ain’t buying,” he replied harshly, turning his attention to the small crowd that had formed behind me. As my stomach continued to growl, the woman threw me an apologetic glance before resuming her work.
Wishing I had pockets to sulkily shove my hands into, I stepped away, resuming my walk.
I passed by clothing stalls, homemade jewelry for sale, accoutrements of all kinds, even little corner cafés that boasted homebrewed beer. At the mere thought of a cold beer, of the frothy liquid running down my throat, my mouth began to water.
“Hey!” a deep gravelly voice called out from behind me. “Hey, woman!”
A heavy hand landed on my shoulder and I flinched. Snatching the hand that was holding me, I twisted it, pushing backward. Jumping away and spinning around, I found the bearded man from last night stumbling backward. As he caught his balance, all the while glaring at me, I noticed the food in his hand—two grilled rats on skewers.
“Oh shit,” I mumbled. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I’m a little jumpy.”
Snickers erupted all around us, making the man’s already deadly expression darken. Angrily, he thrust a cooked rat in my direction, grunting at me to take it. And I wanted to, I really did, but how could I? How could I trust him? Nothing was free, not anymore. Not even what appeared to be a simple act of kindness.
But I was hungry, God, I was so hungry. Yet this man didn’t seem like the type of person I’d want to owe anything to.
“I’m not hungry,” I lied, holding his stare, though my eyes were burning with the need to look away.
“Eat it,” he grumbled. “You’re too skinny.” He dropped his eyes, purposefully raking his heavy gaze up and down my body, and again thrusting out the rat in offering. I stared at it, at the fat dripping from its body over this man’s thick, dirty fingers, making them glisten in the sunlight. Then I looked up into his face, wondering what hands like his could do, the sort of painful damage they could inflict.
“I said I’m not hungry,” I repeated, holding my chin high, yet my voice was a mere whisper.
His beard twitched as he fought the urge to smile. “You the fighter, right?” he asked. “New girl from the wild?”
Still staring up at him, I could only nod in response.
“Then I need you to eat, because I’ll be betting on you.” Grinning, he fixed his eyes on mine as he took a bite of one rat, sinking his teeth into the flesh, easily tearing the meat away from the small bones. I decided then that his grin made him handsome, though not a typical sort of handsome like Alex. No, this man looked far too menacing to be considered simply handsome.
“I’m someone else’s,” I said and flashed him my brand as Alex had last night, suddenly glad to have it there. “As you know.”
“I’m aware,” he said flatly, and again thrust the meat toward me.
My stomach decided to take that very moment to growl loudly, something this man found extremely amusing. His mouth still full of rat, he began to chuckle. “Just take the damn food, woman. I won’t ask you again.”
My stomach burning with hunger, I relented and accepted the rat. But just as I brought it to my mouth, ready to tear into it, he spoke again.
“You better win for me, Wildcat.” Tossing me another grin, he turned and walked off.
“It’s Evelyn,” I yelled after him obstinately. “Not f*cking Wildcat.”
I stared after him for a moment before realizing I still had food in my hand, and instantly the man was forgotten. Biting into the rat, the taste of well-cooked meat exploding in my mouth, I groaned loudly. Ravenous, I took another bite, then another, smiling as I wiped an errant drop of grease that found its way to my chin, then sucked on my finger. Soon, I had nothing left but a pair of greasy hands and a small pile of bones.