Page 3 of Shut Up and Bite Me

Stepping forward onto the wet sidewalk, I take a deep breath, the freshest one I have in a long time. “I’m coming.”

There is something in the air in Saint Eldritch tonight, a feeling that I don’t yet understand, and it’s putting me on edge, making me feel the need to be extra cautious of my surroundings. On the surface, this town is nothing short of breathtaking. But paranormal secrets hide in plain sight…in the cute shops that tourists flock to, in the bars and restaurants that everyone loves, and in the soul of Saint Eldritch itself. There’s an aura of whimsy that draws people here, a mysteriousness that they want to uncover. I’ve lived here for over one-hundred years and that still holds true.

I’ve been around long enough that not much surprises me anymore, but I think that may change tonight. I just don’t know why yet. An instinct, a sixth sense, per se—that feeling deep in your gut that’s so strong you have no choice but to trust and follow it.

I’m on my way to meet up with two of my friends to celebrate the upcoming Culling, as it’s only a day away. Although, we are surely going to do enough celebrating tomorrow night too.

I don’t know when this tradition started between Ava, Skylar, and me, but it’s become a ritual to party with the humans the night before the event. It’s like stepping into their world for a few hours of dancing and drinking while enjoying their company. A reminder of the importance of the Culling and why it even exists in the first place.

Every six months, I, along with the rest of the High Council, host a pairing of humans and vampires. It is always held at my hotel, the Barlowe, and always will be, at least in our district, that is. Twelve districts divide the United States, breaking the large vampire population into manageable factions, each run by a council. They are in charge of their Culling, but it is overseen by the High Council to ensure that the rules are being enforced and followed.As far as districts go, ours is typically the highest desired due to the wealth and opulence that goes into our Culling, no single expense ever spared.

Slowing down before reaching the end of the street, I come to a stop, my hair whooshing forward and wrapping around my face. Long hair isn’t always the best friend of a vampire when we’re running, especially at the speeds we reach.

“Slowpoke,” I murmur, reaching out to my side with my thumb turned down, stopping Skylar as she slams into my hand. “Beat you.”

She laughs, shoving my hand away. “Barely.”

Running her fingers through her almost pitch-black hair, she tames the snarls and craziness back down as our other friend, Ava, catches up to us.

“There really is no need to go that fast,” she pants, and I smirk, wondering how she’s out of breath because usually ittakes an insane amount of exertion to do that to us, and it doesn’t typically happen from running.

“You callthatfast?” I tease.

Her eyes flick up to mine as she grips the part of her thighs right above her knees with profound strength, the skin stark white between her fingers. “Shut it.”

Turning to Skylar, I ask, “Are we ready?”

Lifting the thin straps of her bodysuit up, she shimmies her boobs into place before licking her lips. “Very.”

Playfully glaring at her, I murmur, “No biting tonight, Skylar.”

“Yes,mom, I know,” she deadpans, cocking her head to the side.

An arm loops around mine as Ava begins skipping, pulling me along with her. “Let’s go. We’ve already wasted enough time out here.”

“We literally have forever,” I remind her, happily skipping with her, my black platform boots slapping lightly against the pavement.

Dahlia joins my other side, snaking her arm around mine, and we finish walking the remaining few feet to the front door of tonight’s destination—Nightshade.

The bouncer stops us before looking our way, blocking our path with his tree trunk of an arm. “And where do you ladies think you’re going?” He faces us as he finishes his question, recognition dancing in his eyes.

He’s one of us—Charlie Conway. Although I’ve never had a conversation more than a few words long with him, I know he’s a decent guy, at least…from what I can sense from him. And he most certainly knows who I am.

The way people listen to the words others say to come to a conclusion about who they are, I use a special sense of my own, one that allows me to know exactlywhatthey are feeling. I cansense if they are being genuine or deceitful, happy or sad, turned on or turned off, and everything in between.

Thankfully, over the years, I have learned to control it enough to tuck it away until I choose to let it come out to play. When I first turned and discovered I could do this, it was incredibly overwhelming. I wouldn’t just feel my emotions; I would feel everyone else’s as if they were mine too. And it wouldn’t be just one person; it would be a room full all at once. It was agonizing. I couldn’t shut it off, I couldn’t get a break from it, and it took me nearly two years to get under control. The longest two damn years of my life.

Now, that gift reminds me of an onion. If I choose, I can open myself to anyone. I can peel back another layer and sense what they are feeling without feeling it myself.

If I want a deeper connection, I can allow the feelings in, let them run through my body and race through my heart, let them become my own. It can be intoxicating at times, like a drug where I want to chase the next burst of euphoria. But I haven’t used it like a game in a very, very long time.

Besides, my emotions are often more than enough to deal with without involving someone else, so I typically keep that solid brick wall sky-high to block out everyone else’s mood swings.

“Good evening, Ms. Barlowe.” Charlie dips his head down ever so slightly. “A pleasure as always. You ladies have a good night.”

“I’m sure we will.” I smile up at him as he pulls the door open, music pouring out of the place, along with puffs of fog from the machines. “Stay out of trouble.”

“Always do,” he retorts as the black door seals shut behind us.

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