21. Chapter 21

Chapter twenty-one

B arry ran—because apparently he had some sense. Dolly and Tiffany blocked his escape—because they were good, loyal beasts—and Barry fucking kicked at them. He missed, but still. Anger burned liquid hot beneath my skin as he bolted down the hallway and out of sight.

"Fucking asshole," I grunted, rage simmering.

He was going to pay for that.

The absolute fucking pig.

Who does that?

Who kicks a fucking cat?

Asshole, asshole, asshole.

If I hadn't hated Barry before, I certainly did now.

Felix and I shared a glance before we were both on our feet. We checked on the cats—but both seemed fine, if not a bit spooked. They steered clear of the corpse, scurrying away and up the stairs like nothing had happened at all.

I licked the cum from my hand, and Felix groaned, watching me as he buttoned up his pants as quickly and efficiently as he could, before moving on to mine .

"I'm going to have to kill him," I said simply, my mind already whirring through how exactly I'd catch up before he could tell anyone what he'd seen.

"I can fix it—" Felix promised. And for once…I believed him. I cocked my head at him, and he grinned, wide and wolfish. We made our way to the front door, but Felix stepped back, away from the peep of light that spanned the hallway. Barry had left it open—because of course he had. Inconsiderate, nosy-ass bitch.

Never mind the fact that I had done the exact same thing, and been equally nosy only a few minutes prior.

"Take my phone," I said, pulling it from my pocket and passing it to him. "The sun is setting and you should be able to come outside soon." He took my phone, pinching it between his fingers like he didn't know how to hold it. I snorted, then leaned over and typed my passcode in. "The password is F-E-L-I-X." He blinked, then laughed, eyeing me with obvious affection. "Call Allen, tell him what happened. He'll bring The Club over and they'll take care of the body."

"Okay," Felix echoed.

"When the sun is down, come find me."

He nodded, eyes wide.

I kissed him.

I kissed him hard, giving his mouth one last ravenous flick of my tongue before I retreated, and marched out the front door, a man on a mission. A murdery, delicious mission. I didn't know exactly what Felix meant by "I can fix it." But I was determined to stall until he came to save the day.

Of course, because Barry was a bitch—with self-preservation—he was running down the block toward his own party. I could only hope that I could catch him before he said something to the wrong person, or god forbid, called the cops.

His hair was flopping all over the place as he bolted down the street, wearing what looked like a suit from a dollar store. I marched after him, offering a few smiles and waves toward the other people that headed toward his house for the party. The whole block would be there—which did not make incapacitating Barry easy.

Still, I'd manage.

The sun was sinking below the tree line. I probably had ten minutes or so until Felix was safe to leave his home. It was a wonder I hadn't gotten any blood on my suit—not that you'd be able to easily see it on the black fabric if I had.

Stalking down the street, I had never felt more elated in all my life.

I had the man of my dreams—a movie star!

I'd made Felix come before I had!

I was wearing an impeccable tuxedo.

I had already killed one man, and here I was, about to kill another!

All in all, it was a rather good day, wasn't it? For the first time since I'd met him, Barry was about to bring me immense joy .

I caught up to him five minutes later. He was hiding behind the giant wedding cake that sat smack dab in the center of his backyard. There were at least thirty people present. It seemed that his guests had invited guests of their own.

I imagined, in any other circumstance, he'd be elated.

As it was, there was no time to be elated.

Because his hunter had found him.

"Hi, Barry," I said cheerfully from behind him. He hadn't seen me—I was light on my feet, kind of a necessity with a hobby like mine.

"Hi, Marshall." He squeaked out, twisting around to look at me, his eyes wide.

"Why were you at Felix's house?" I asked, because it wasn't like I could just twist his neck in front of all of these people.

"He was supposed to bring a casserole—" he managed, stupidly answering my question instead of running.

If I stalled long enough…Felix would arrive.

Would I get to see him kill?

The thought made me giddy.

Barry glanced around, like he wanted to bolt away, so I reached out, closing my hand tight around his wrist.

"The door was open—" Barry continued to ramble, quaking in my grip. "I didn't see anything. I swear—" He had totally seen something. He glanced around for help, but…people were accustomed to seeing us fight, so no one came to his rescue. I grinned wider, leaning in close .

"You kicked our cats," I told him—and because it would probably be my last time to say it, "And I hate you."

"Marshall—" Barry's eyes widened, like he knew this was my version of goodbye.

"And I know you changed the theme last year specifically to try to make a fool out of me."

"I'm sorry—I'm sorry."

"I wore flamingos because of you."

"Marshall, I'm sorry—" Barry tried to jerk out of my grip, but I wouldn't let him. The table with the cake wobbled, and he panicked, trying to catch the cake.

"I've hated you since the day I saw your smarmy little face," I told him. "You made Felix dunk himself in cold water."

"It was for charity—" he continued to try to wiggle free. Why he wasn't calling for help, I didn't understand. Oh—yep. There we go. He opened his mouth, sucked in a breath—and I reached out to close my other hand over his mouth to stifle it.

"You smell like garlic," I told him, grinning evilly, my glasses glinting. That was for Tiffany. "And your hair is stupid." And that was for Dolly.

The sun had officially sunk below the horizon.

Yes.

Yes .

I jerked Barry away from the table, intent to bring him out of the crowd where we could take care of him in private. I was bigger than him. By quite a bit. I was bigger than everyone, if we're being honest. It was easy to manhandle him without it looking like it took any effort at all—and I only had to do it for a minute longer and—yep.

There he was.

Like gay-vampire-Moses, Felix parted the crowd with a single look. He stood at the other end of the yard, dressed immaculately in his white tuxedo. Like an avenging angel, gorgeous, ethereal, delicious. He had not been as lucky as I had—as there were a few flecks of blood splattered across his lapel.

He looked so damn pretty standing there—the stars creeping into view in the purpling sky. His pale hair was wild—wilder than normal, and his red eyes shined.

"Quiet," he said, his own voice barely loud enough to be heard.

Somehow, like magic—maybe because that's what it was—the crowd silenced. Everyone. All at once. The peep of crickets was suddenly impossibly loud as Felix scanned the crowd for me. Glowing, glowing, glowing. There was something ethereal and terrifying about the way his red eyes burned bright in the dark.

Fairy lights danced across the yard—the immaculately dressed crowd, parting for him in tandem, like he was somehow…controlling them. Empty-headed puppets. Their eyes were as vacant as the corpse we'd left on his living room floor.

So this…was how he'd been getting away with murder .

As Felix strode confidently toward us—no hat, no glasses—all his brutal, supernatural strength on full display, I fell even more in love with him. I hadn't even known that was possible.

He was a walking (literally) contradiction.

Pastel-loving-murderous-gremlin baby.

My sweet, bumbling fool.

God, I was obsessed with him.

Barry wriggled in my grip. And I knew then, that Felix had not enthralled him like he had the others. Why he'd chosen to leave him alone quickly became clear. Because when I released him, Barry bolted toward the back door of his home, halfway between me and my murderous, gorgeous lover. A slow, wicked smile spread across Felix's face, his eyes flickering with the first twinges of bloodlust I'd ever seen on his face.

And it was…glorious.

It seemed my little fool had a bit of the devil in him, after all—even when my cock was not inside him. (Ha!)

Felix had let Barry go free, not because he couldn't control him, but because he wanted to hunt him.

Oh fuck.

My dick was so hard right now.

I watched, enraptured as Barry scrambled at the back door, trying to get it open with his sweaty sausage fingers. Only for Felix to appear behind him—liquid quick. So damn fast I'd hardly seen him move at all.

Barry twisted away, and Felix let him, still grinning as Barry burst back down the porch steps, running toward the other side of the yard. He dodged through the very still bodies of the people Felix still controlled, and a few of them crossed their arms—reminiscent of soldiers—blocking his escape.

More frantic, more sweaty, more abhorrent—Barry turned back around and ran the other way again.

Over and over, back and forth. Felix chased him. Playing with his food like a cat plays with a mouse. And it was…magnificent. Truly the most fun I'd ever had. Delighted by the show, I served myself up a slice of wedding cake, munching on it happily as I watched Felix play.

Barry was a red-faced, sweaty mess by the time he stumbled to a stop in front of me. It almost seemed as though he'd given up entirely, the light in his eyes slowly dimming.

Any sympathy I had for him died, however, when in a last ditch effort to escape he knocked into the food table, his weight toppling it over. I tried to jump out of the way, but there was nothing that could stop the next set of events. The way the white wedding cake toppled, all ten layers of it teetering and sliding, slamming right into me.

I hit the ground with a little grunt—shocked—and covered in icing.

And that was…apparently it for Felix.

"This is Armani," I gasped out, rightfully offended—the wind knocked right out of me .

Felix was there half a second later, helping me to my feet as Barry attempted to make a run for it again. I was on my feet in seconds—hello superhuman speed—wow. That was more than a little sexy. And then Felix was in front of Barry, blocking his way, his eyes dark.

The murderous intent was heavy in the air.

Thick, cloying, delicious.

The lovely wedding waltz still played from the speakers set in the corners of Barry's backyard as Felix made his last, wonderful move. In slow motion almost, I watched as Felix's lovely red gaze focused on Barry's throat. There was a brutal ferocity to his movements—a grace, much like a dancer—as he closed the distance between his razor sharp mouth of fangs and Barry's neck.

A slick sound emitted as Felix bit into him, then just as quick, pulled back—bringing a piece of Barry's throat with him. Immediately, Barry gurgled, his airways cut off, blood spurting from the open wound. It was…immensely satisfying that for once he'd finally shut up. He coughed, stumbled, one, two, three steps—then fell to his knees.

Felix kicked him over, boot connecting with his shoulder, Barry's body flopping to the ground in a puddle of his own cake and blood. Riveted, I stared at the mess Felix had made of him—for only a moment—then turned my attention back to the artist himself.

Felix's other kills had been accidental, yes.

I could see that now .

Perhaps he had gotten too zealous when feeding.

He'd felt guilty. At war with himself. Upset.

But this…no. There was no guilt on his face now. There was only righteous fury. Anger that was so beautiful I wanted to taste it. Satisfaction so sweet, it made my taste buds tingle. This was no accident. My bumbling, worried little accidental murderer had become a full-fledged killer.

And he… loved it.

Enraptured, I watched in real time as Felix came to that conclusion too. He stared at Barry, his eyes wide, a slow, curling smile stretching across his lips. His gaze snapped to me, and I…well… I shuddered, unable to help myself.

Then, just as quickly as he'd become a predator, my little love melted. The bloodlust faded, his eyes warm, his broad shoulders relaxed.

"You're filthy," Felix said softly, clucking in concern as he crossed the distance between us, reaching out to smooth his hands over my tux. He got icing on them, and I smiled—unable to help myself.

"You've got a little—" I grabbed a handkerchief from my pocket, reaching out to gently dab at the blood on Felix's face. Normally, I'd want to taste it. To taste his depravity. But apparently, even I had my limits.

And tasting anything that had been inside Barry (the soon-to-be bloated) was one of them .

"Thank you," Felix smiled at me. He looked…a little nervous. But I quickly soothed his fears, pulling him in tight, my lips at his ear.

"I have never been harder in all my life," I murmured, just to feel him shiver.

"Fuck," he responded, fingers finding my hips, digging in.

"Soon," I countered—teasing him, like he liked to tease me.

The crowd continued to stand around the edges of the lawn, expressions vacant. As though they hadn't witnessed the bloodbath we'd caused at all. Barry's corpse, lying in the wedding cake, felt like a symbol if I'd ever seen one.

"Felix…" I said softly, kissing the shell of his lovely, almost pointy ear.

"Marshall," he murmured, tipping into the touch.

"I know I'm covered in cake—"

"You are."

"I know you're probably disappointed that tonight did not go as planned." I knew I was. A bit—maybe not a lot, as this had ended far more entertaining than I'd been expecting. There were a few beats we hadn't met, however, that I was missing.

"I am," he tipped his head up, and I moved back to look down at him. To look down at the monster I loved, as the beast inside me roared with pride. He was mine, mine, mine. Sharp teeth, murderous tendencies, and all.

"How long can you maintain control of the crowd?" I asked softly, grabbing his face, smearing icing with my fingers. Felix grinned, his eyes crinkling. The lovely swoop and dive of the waltz that played over the speakers filled the air. Crickets chirped. The stars were high above.

"A while."

I reached into my back pocket, removing the item—the gift—I'd bought him weeks ago from it.

I offered it to him, and his dark brow furrowed as he opened the tiny velvet box. A startled sound escaped him, his eyes widening as the two matching rings glinted up at him. "Marshall…" he said softly, voice hoarse.

"It's not a wedding ring," I said softly. "At least…not yet."

"I see." I grabbed one of the rings from the box, bringing his hand up—his blood-streaked hand—and slid the ring onto his ring finger.

"But it could be. When you're ready."

"When I'm ready," he said softly, staring down at it, eyes flickering with emotion.

"See?" I slid the other one on, allowing him to pocket the box himself, as I pressed our hands together, fingers tangling. The rings tapped, and Felix stared at them—stared at our mismatched hands, his small, mine large. He sucked in an overwhelmed little breath. "We match."

"We do," he murmured, and I knew he wasn't just talking about the rings.

But something deeper, something more central.

It wasn't often a monster found his mate.

He knew that as well as I did .

"Now that that's over with," I hummed, catching his gaze, my heart pounding. "We're here. We're dressed—the music is still playing."

"It is."

"It seems…silly not to take advantage."

"It does," Felix grinned, and it made my heart hurt.

"Felix Finley," I said softly, releasing him so I could step back, feet smooshing into more cake. I offered him my hand, half bowing.

"Marshall Warden," he replied, staring at me like I was the single most beautiful thing on this earth. No one had ever looked at me like that. It seemed fitting that he would. My love, my heart, my star. My sweet monster, still smeared in blood—his white suit as stained as mine was.

"May I have this dance?"

His eyes sparkled as he placed his hand in mine, giving it a tight squeeze. "I thought you'd never ask."

We danced.

We danced.

We danced.