Red Rooster (Sons of Rome #2)

Sashka. At another time, he would have let himself slip into a coma. But not now, not when Sashka needed him, was being…

He snipped the thought away, cleanly. He couldn’t right now. And turned to face Lanny. He thought his eyes must be dilated, because Lanny drew back a fraction.

“Am I hungry? Yeah, I’m hungry. That’s why we’re going to get food,” he said like Nikita was an idiot, hooking a thumb toward the Subway.

“No. Not that kind of hungry.”

Lanny stared at him a moment, carefully blank…and then his own pupils widened. “Yeah,” he said, voice gone a little rough. “I could eat. We’ve got a cooler…”

“No. That’s gone bad by now. We need fresh.”

They studied one another. “I thought you didn’t believe in that,” Lanny said.

“Sometimes, there are exceptions.”

Slowly, Lanny nodded.

“Get the others. Meet me inside.”

He worried his legs wouldn’t hold him, but an invigorating blast of adrenaline swept through him, giving him the energy he needed to climb out of the car and cross the parking lot, push his way through the glass door and into the maze of chilled drinks and junk food. Knowing that he would feed, the anticipation of fresh, restorative blood, strengthened him temporarily.

He scanned the low aisles and didn’t see his target; but he saw, at the mouth of the hallway that led to the restrooms, a few bags of beef jerky knocked to the floor. Carelessness? No, a struggle. He inhaled and caught a whiff of fear sweat, the kind that came on suddenly. He headed to the back, heard the bell behind him, scented the others in his…in his pack. Lanny, Alexei, Jamie.

The hallway was empty of people, but full of scent: male, female, fear, arousal. An emergency exit, the door blocked open with a brick, the alarm disengaged.

Nikita pushed through, and found what he’d expected: both girls pressed up against the rough brick wall of the building, tears shiny on their cheeks in the glow of the light above the door. Bruises were already coming up on their faces, hard slaps to quiet them. The men pinned them down by the arms, and the girls, just teenagers, were too terrified to scream or fight back.

The girls saw him first, eyes wide, wild, full of terror.

He put his finger to his lips, stepped up behind one of the men, and grabbed him by the back of the neck.

“Hey!” he shouted, and threw an elbow back, tried to wrench around. He couldn’t shake Nikita loose, not when he dug his fingertips in hard enough to draw a gasp from the man. His hands loosened, and the girl wriggled away.

“Go,” Nikita told her. “Take your friend.”

The other girl was loose, too, because the first man’s friend had spun and was coming at Nikita with bravado that almost outweighed his sudden fear.

“What the fuck?” he demanded. “Fuck you.” He threw a punch–

That Lanny caught in the palm of his hand. The man had put all his weight behind it, but it landed on Lanny’s skin like a love tap. Lanny closed his hand around the man’s fist, and squeezed until Nikita heard the crack of bone breaking.

The man screamed.

“Shut him up,” Nikita said.

Lanny cocked back a fist.

“No, like this.” Nikita turned the man that he held, who scrabbled and cocked back his own intended swing – it never landed. The moment Nikita locked eyes with him, he pushed his intent out through his eyes. You are mine. Listen to me. Be calm. Submit. Rasputin’s gift; Rasputin’s evil.

The man went totally still.

Beside him, Lanny struggled, unfamiliar with the power.

Alexei stepped in beside him. “Here, bratishka,” he told Lanny, and laid a hand on the struggling man’s neck, catching his eyes with his own wide, dilated ones. “Shh, shh.” The man went limp, swaying on his feet.

Alexei ran a hand up into the man’s hair, dislodging his cap, exposing his throat on both sides. “Come,” Alexei said, sweetly, cajoling, “feed.”

Lanny looked drugged-out. Turned on. It was the bloodlust. He bent his head on one side, and Alexei on the other. Sire and offspring feeding together.

Nikita looked over and saw Jamie at the door, hand braced on the wall. His eyes were huge, chest heaving as he breathed. Hungry, and terrified, and revolted, but so hungry.

Nikita extended a hand toward him. His fangs scraped his lip and tongue when he spoke. “Come here, little one, and have some.”

Jamie hesitated, but hunger won out. He took one halting step, and then another, and finally he slid his hand into Nikita’s and let himself be pulled in.

Nikita let go of his hand so he could cup Jamie’s neck, the back of his head, his soft hair. Guided him up to the still man’s throat. “Here. Bite hard.”

He watched with something like fatherly pride as Jamie leaned up on his toes and fastened his fangs into the man’s neck. He waited until the young one had a good grip, was feeding properly, and then dipped his head and pressed his face into the other side of the man’s throat. He felt, and saw, and heard the pulse jumping just beneath the skin. Waited a heartbeat for a guilt that didn’t come, and then bit.

His hand was still in Jamie’s hair, curved protectively around his nape, as he drew hard on the vein that pulsed into his open mouth, and drank.

*

Trina was next in line to order at the sandwich counter when the boys all came trooping through the door that connected Subway to the convenience store next door. She looked at them – and then did a double take.

They were all in the same state: eyes fever-bright and too-wide, cheeks flushed, mouths dark and slick, like they’d been licking their lips. They looked drunk, high. Freshly fucked. Jamie’s hair was all rumpled.

They moved loose-limbed and relaxed, long rolling strides that carried them toward the back of the line.

Trina snagged Lanny’s sleeve as he passed her. “What’s with you guys?” she whispered.

He looked at her uncomprehending a moment; his pupils were blown. Then shook his head and grinned a slow, lazy grin that melted her insides. “Miss me?”

She kept her voice firm. “Lanny. What did you do?”

“Nothing that ain’t natural,” he drawled. “Hey, can I cut?” he asked the woman behind her.

“No, you may not,” she said.

Lanny chuckled and shifted out of Trina’s grip. “See you outside, sweetheart.” He went to the back of the line to join the others.

Jamie stood with his shoulder pressed against Nikita’s arm, leaning on him.

Alexei licked at something on his thumbnail, content and pleased with himself.

The tableau they made: like every eighties vampire movie, Kiefer Sutherland with his mullet and eye makeup. Like…

It clicked into place for her then: they’d fed.

She turned away from them, jaw clenched, hands curling into fists. What had she expected? They’d come down here with nothing but old blood packed in a cooler. They’d behaved beautifully at her family’s place. They were about to walk into very real battle, and they had to feed. She knew all of this. Logically.

But emotionally, she felt something shake loose inside her. It felt like fright, so she stubbornly told herself it was anger.

She ordered her sandwich and chips and drink, and went to sit out in the dark on a picnic table to eat them. She forced each bite down, appetite gone.

When the guys emerged a few minutes later, Alexei was laughing at something Lanny said, head tipped back so the halogens caught the gleam of fangs still extended. She felt her body coil and tense, ready for flight, as they trooped over and sat down around her, opposite her, beside her. They seemed to emit more heat than normal humans; she swore she smelled blood, though it had to be her imagination, because there wasn’t a speck on any of them anywhere.

“You shouldn’t sit out here alone,” Nikita scolded, and took a huge bite of sandwich, spoke around it. “It’s dangerous.”

She set down her own food and passed a glance around to the four of them. “Dangerous,” she deadpanned. “Right.”

Jamie had the grace to blush and look down into his Doritos.

Nikita’s stare was a challenge.

Lanny said, “Aw, come on, what did you think was gonna happen? And they were totally rapist motherfuckers.”

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