Revenge and the Wild(18)

“Sorry,” he said before he walked away.

She let out a growl that sent the patrons next to her scuttling to the other side of the bar. When she stood from the bar stool, her eyes began to float and the wood planks of the saloon floor rose up in front of her. James reached out, catching her before she fell. His arms were strong for a skinny aristocrat.

“Let me help you home,” he said. Their faces were close enough for her to smell alcohol on his breath and notice that his eyes were a pale shade of green.

“I don’t need help.” She pushed his hands off her and stumbled away.





Eight


It was midnight by the time Westie left the saloon. Ten or so vampires walked the streets, dressed like they were ready for a funeral. Ornate copper gasoliers hung from poles lining the wood planks of the sidewalk, casting enough light to see without a moon. She wondered why they were even lit. The vamps didn’t need light, and no human in their right mind would be roaming around town at such a late hour. After nearly an entire bottle of whiskey to herself, Westie was definitely not in her right mind.

She snuck around the back of the saloon to relieve her bladder, and when she came back, Costin was standing out front with her horse.

“What are you doing here?” she said, taking hold of the horn on her saddle to steady the carousel town.

“You’ve been in there awhile. I thought you might need some help getting home.”

The soft light of the gasoliers gave him an ethereal glow. Long black hair shimmered around his face. He had skin without a single pore, like an eggshell, eyes black, pupils blown, lips stained pink with blood. Looking at him took the breath right out of her. He was perfect. Too perfect. Inhuman. That perfection reminded her that he was a creature, and that she couldn’t allow herself to get caught up in his charm.

“I can kill twenty men with my machine and not even break a sweat,” she said. “I don’t need anyone’s help.”

Westie climbed up into the saddle. Once mounted, she promptly slid down the other side with a yelp. Pain stomped a trail up her back as she hit the ground.

Costin smiled, making no effort to help her. “Clearly,” he said.

She heard the cackle of vampires from the top deck of the blood brothel across the street. She glared back at them.

“Damned bloodsuckers,” she mumbled.

The ache in Westie’s head was enough to keep her on her knees, but she managed to get to her feet, standing on the precipice of ugly drunk crying. After she made several unsuccessful attempts to get back onto her horse, Costin grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her into the saddle. He then climbed up and sat behind her, taking hold of the reins.

She was surprised when her horse didn’t protest. Henry was a picky beast when it came to his riders and had never let anyone but Westie onto his back.

Traitor, she thought, and gave him a loving pat on his neck.

She didn’t have the strength to fight Costin, and once she felt the chill emanating from his skin, she didn’t want to.

He clicked his tongue and sent Henry on the path home. Once they were away from the lights of town, everything became suffocated by darkness.

Westie had started to doze off when Costin said, “Do you remember when we first met?” Westie kept silent, afraid if she opened her mouth, more than words would come out. “It happened just over there, beyond those trees.” He pointed into the distance, but she couldn’t see a thing. “It was two years ago,” Costin continued, voice soft, breath cold against her ear. “I had just moved to Rogue City and had decided to take a walk in the woods, not knowing there was an infestation of rebellious young werewolves with a hankering for vampire blood.”

She remembered that night. After a fight with Nigel—she couldn’t remember now what that fight had been about—she’d stormed out of the house and gone to her favorite spot in the woods. She’d been pouting up in a tree when she heard the cries for help.

“I was cornered by a lone wolf,” Costin said. “I had no weapon, and my speed and fangs were no match for a wolf who had already transitioned. I’d lived more lifetimes than I could count and yet there I was, about to meet my end as a meal for some ravenous dog.”

He leaned in, lips brushing against her cheek. Closing her eyes, she reveled in the softness of those lips against her skin. It was hard to believe he was over a thousand years old when he looked barely twenty.

“Then suddenly you were there,” he said, hand touching her stomach, moving in slow, intimate circles. Her skin tingled. “Moonlight made a red halo of the hair tangled around your face. With your copper machine you looked like a goddess of war. I’d never seen anything like you. You pulled that werewolf’s tail and spun it in the air like a child’s toy and tossed it over the trees.”

“I know,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “I was there.”

She was thankful when she saw the porch lamps of Nigel’s house ahead. It made her nervous how comfortable she felt being so close to Costin, his lips so close to hers. The alcohol buzzing through her veins, lowering her inhibitions, wasn’t helping matters either.

The lamps lit their path and the forest around them. It was still hot out despite the darkness. Westie had felt fine until she saw the trees swaying in the breeze, or maybe that was her. Everything seemed to be spinning.