11. Eleven

Prowling in the Under Cloud was probably not something I should”ve been doing, but who would stop me?

Vastian was appalled that I left a naked man in my bed without a word. After reassurance that Derek knew the drill, he seemed more at peace with the concept.

My idea of prowling was not what one might think. And no—we weren’t hunting or anything stealthy, for that matter. I considered it to be more like moving nonstop, seeking one thrill after the other. Most prowling nights have ended up with me naked and running through the streets high off my rocker.

Since I would live forever, I might as well take advantage of my youth while I still had it.

Eventually, I’d get wrinkles, my balls would hang to my knees, and I’d have enormous ears. But worst of all, I’d have to live in a perpetual state of guilt. Guilt ate at me day and night, no matter how many people I screwed or how much havoc I caused around me. So, the first stop of the evening would be to the Diamond Den.

I had a bone to pick with a woman in a red dress.

We entered the bar, and Vastian hissed, instantly cowering and covering his ears. The music was a touch loud. “I own ear muffs, you know. They even have glitter and tassels,” I yelled, and he shoved me away.

“It’s too much.” Then he darted outside. Making sure he got through the door, I scanned the club for that temptress who drugged me.

A few nights ago, I wouldn’t have willingly shown my face so soon after an altercation like I’d had. But tonight was different. I was on a mission of revenge. No one fucking drugs me without my say-so. And especially that kind. It takes all the fun out of doing said drugs.

Bodies parted for me as I beelined toward the bar. I didn’t expect the woman to wear the same dress still because that would mean she lacked taste or other dresses. However, I wasn’t lying when I muttered those infamous last words.

I always remembered a face.

The bar was void of all familiarity, though. An utter fucking sausage fest.

Groaning, I leaned my elbows against the blacktop counter and scanned the dance floor. Where was this bitch anyway? Maybe she hightailed it out of the Under Cloud.

“Atreyis.” I quite literally jumped at the voice.

“Fuck! Don’t do that shit, Alora! I’m not wearing any undergarments!”

Alora had this innate ability to shapeshift into quite literally anything. She was one of the rarer subspecies of shifters, and I hated it. The fucking woman always spooked me. Tonight, she had purple in her long hair. She wore it loose, and her tattoos weren’t hidden. Blue tribal markings crawled over her arms, shoulders, and neck, among other places. And she wore a scantily clad black dress.

“You messed up, Atreyis. Real bad. Didn’t I warn you?” She folded her arms, and her pale blue eyes searched the room.

The woman liked to kill things as much as I wanted to die.

I scoffed. “Are you jealous?”

“We can’t talk here. Meet me tomorrow. Also, she’s upstairs working the other bar.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder, blasting me in the face with her pungent perfume, and strolled away from me.

Who did she think she was anyway? My mother? That hag could choke on a dog”s cock for all I cared. I mean my mother—not Alora. Alora was an angel sweet cake full of razor blades. Yeah, yeah, don’t worry. We will get to her later because I was up the stairs now and spotted that beautifully voluptuous, two-timing, slimy twat.

I’m all for equality—an eye for an eye.That is why I made no notion of the venom I had secured from my entanglement with Derek. Milking it from him had been easy enough, and now that I’d secured it into a syringe, all I needed was to get close. She crouched, pulled out a bottle from the icebox, and jolted as she stood. I wasted no time as the bottle in her hand fell to the ground, shattering everywhere. Sliding over the bar, I knelt to grab her wrist before she could run.

“H-how are you h-here? Look, it was just a job. I-it wasn’t personal,” she stuttered, and her voice trembled.

Forcing a smile, I inched closer so that our breath intermingled. “Didn’t they tell you? Everything is personal when it comes to me.” Then I jabbed the needle into her fucking neck and slammed the plunger down.

Cupping her mouth to muffle her scream, I pulled her into my lap while she flailed and kicked. Not that it would have mattered if people were aware of what was going on, but I didn’t want to ruin my outfit again. The other customers were too busy filling their noses with powders and running their hands up skirts. I highly doubted anyone noticed anything.

After a few minutes, she went limp. She probably wore herself out; however, when she woke, she’d be anything but tired. Werewolf venom was nasty when it was concentrated. She would quite literally liquify from the inside out unless she shifted. And something told me that she wasn’t ready to have a tail.

Now that that was over—where the fuck was Vastian?

He wasn’t outside the bar or around the side of the building—I didn’t see the Vampyr anywhere. There was no sign of him in the seating area in the outdoor section, he wasn’t behind the fucking place, and the nearest alley had two women tangled in each other’s arms. Did he go back to Ariel and Chris’? How hard could it be to spot a 6’6, golden-haired, literal god of a man?

Tapping my foot, I scanned the area.

The Diamond Den was in the district of booze. Not an official name, but that is what it fucking was. There were other bars and whatnot. Several drunkards staggered down the road, and howling laughter echoed to my immediate left. Someone was having a good time, and it should have been me. Stomping over to the noise source, I approached one of the few restaurants that happened to be in the vicinity. They sold baked potatoes and beef—stuff to fill the guts before a rigorous night of inhaling alcohol.

The gazebo covering the area to the right of the brick building had a few tables and chairs scattered about, and a group of people crowded around. Then I saw gold. Vastian was smack dab in the middle, on his knees, and his face was covered in potato guts.

What the fuck?

“Look at him! He can’t even move.”

“What did you give him, James?”

“I don’t know it was free!”

“Put more potato on him.”

“Open wide!”

I slapped the back of a relatively short man’s head. The potato he was aiming at Vastian’s face dropped with a splat. Everyone stilled, and the laughter died in their throats. Vastian swayed but somehow didn’t fall over. Usually, I would have considered this to be hilarious if it were anyone else. But something about the look Vastian gave me made this a lethal act. It was a silent beg—to help him.

To…fix it.

I kissed my outfit goodbye and slammed my fist into the first nose I could hit.

It split, blood gushed everywhere, and he recoiled to cup it. The women of the group scattered. Humans, I realized. That only left four others. They all came at me at once. Fists landed everywhere. Ramming my elbow into a gut and slamming my heel on an instep, I was able to get a breather before I tossed another body to the floor, where I crushed his trachea. That got their attention quickly because the next thing I knew, they all ran.

“Baby back twats! Run home to your cunt mothers!” I roared.

Turning my attention to the semi-conscious Vampyr, I helped him to his feet, but he immediately buckled. He was so heavy. His head sagged into the crook of my neck as I wrapped my arm around his waist and slung his over my shoulder.

“By the way,” I grunted and readjusted him so we could walk. “This is not how prowling is supposed to go. This should be you holding me up.”

“It can’t always be about you,” he whispered, but the words were strained.

“Oh, my little cherub, it is always about me.”

Derek was a real thorn in my asshole.

He was still in my bed. The bed I needed because Vastian was minutes from passing out.

“What… who is this?” he asked like he fucking lived here. The nerve of this wolf, I swear.

“Get out.”

“You make love to me and then bring home… that?” He pointed.

“We fucked. Hardly the same. Now get out,” I snapped.

“Stop fucking with my head, Atreyis! Gods, you are so cruel!”

“This isn’t your home! I am not yours! I play with your cock, and you play with mine when I allow it. Get the fuck out!”

Vastian winced in my arms.

Derek sucked in a breath. “It’s because of him. This is why you’re turning me away. You found someone else.”

My eyes rolled so hard they nearly fell out of my skull. “Yes. He’s my wife, and we have three children and a dog.”

Tears welled in Derek’s eyes, but I didn’t care. I never did. And if that made me a monster, then so be it.

“I hate you.” He grabbed his clothes and ran out.

“Why do you hurt him so?” Vastian whispered again.

“Oh, shut up.” Then I plopped him down on the bed, and he grunted.

“What do Vampyrs do when drugged? Do you drink water? Eat a pancake?” I held my hips and examined him.

His eyes fluttered shut, and his lips parted as he passed out.

Well, wasn’t this just a shit waffle?

Strands of hair lay over his face, and potato chunks still stuck to his cheeks. I got a wet rag and came back to sit next to him. For a moment, I thought he was dead until he took in a ragged breath, just the one. It was damn unsettling how little he breathed. But I got to work on scrubbing his face. At first, I started a bit rough, probably taking my frustrations out, and then I found myself staring at him.

My fingers trailed his chin and down his thick neck. That mark was interesting. And now that I got a good look at it, this wasn’t a teardrop. It was a blood drop, tattooed with an ink I didn’t recognize because it glistened ever so slightly. Wait—it didn’t glisten before, even when he was dripping wet. Was I hallucinating? Balling my fists, I got up with speed, shaking my head.

“Time to get drunk.”