Page 47 of Purrfectly Peculiar Pixie

Leon

The thirst was an untamable beast.Had my throat ever felt this dry? My lips so parched? My gut so hollow? Surely there had to be a point in my past, when I was a freshly turned vampire and hunting was so difficult I’d thought I’d go insane from hunger.

If there was such a time, I couldn’t remember it. Perhaps it had been so horrid I’d blocked the memory. It was doubtful, but currently, it was a hope I desperately clung to. Because if I’d survived such thirst in the past, I could surely hold out now.

“They look far too at ease.” Johnny tossed his hand towel over his shoulder, draping it across his shirt. “Smug too.”

I glanced at the wolves currently preoccupying all our minds and time. They were a distraction I could hardly currently afford. I’d assured Lucroy I would keep a weather eye on them, but preoccupied as I was with my current circumstances, I was hardly the pillar of observation I typically was.

With a distinct uneasy feeling, I realized Johnny was correct. The wolves did look smug. Had they appeared that way before? I wasn’t certain. On closer observation, I realized only one of the wolves held that expression. The other two simply looked wary as their eyes forever shifted around the room, as if constantly on alert and expecting someone, or something, to pounce on them any second.

“I put Lizbeth on their table. She’s damn observant and those cocky bastards will underestimate her the most,” Johnny said. “She can’t get a good read on them. Just like all the other groups that have come in and sat in the bar. Werewolves are supposed to be a social, rowdy bunch. Arie’s wolves couldn’t be more different. When they come in here, they’re sullen and quiet as the grave. They certainly aren’t coming into Dusk to let off some steam and relax.”

Again, Johnny wasn’t wrong.

Huffing, Johnny shook his head and asked, “You want me to get you something to eat?” Johnny turned as if he was ready to head for the fridge and pour me a glass of blood.

I swallowed but had little saliva to work with. Giving a reluctant head shake, I said, “Thank you, but no.”

Johnny’s head cocked to the side and his eyes narrowed in puzzlement. “You sure? I haven’t seen you drink anything tonight and—”

“I said no thank you,” I snapped, voice low and cold.

Johnny straightened. His puzzlement morphed into stunned silence.

Silently cursing my hasty remark, I said, “Apologies, Johnny. I did not mean to snap at you.”

He waved me off. “It’s okay. I suppose we’re all wound a little tight.” Johnny said the right words, but his wounded eyes told a different story.

“While true, that does not give me the right to take that frustration out on you. Again, I beg your forgiveness.”

Johnny’s tight shoulders relaxed, and his face softened. “Nah, it’s okay. You just let me know if you change your mind.”

Johnny left to take care of Dusk’s customers. I stood there, staring after him. I’d done well so far but that brief altercation was the first blow across the bow. With my thirst riding me, my temper was on a hair trigger, and it would only get worse. If I never took another sip of blood again, I’d survive, if one could call it that. Boxing was the worst punishment a vampire could suffer. Sealed inside an impenetrable crate and left for days, weeks, months or sometimes years to decades. Given enough time without feeding, there was little more than a husk left, the mind inside tormented by thirst to the point of insanity. The vampire could be revived with blood, but what came back was a mental time bomb.

Boxing a vampire was worse than death. It was cruel and only the vilest among us deserved that degree of punishment. If I could not convince Phlox that he was my beloved and that I needed to feed exclusively from him, I could only hope another took pity on me and either beheaded me or gave my body over to the sun.

Leaning my elbows on the bar, I fought the exhaustion pulling at my mind and body.

“Leon.” Lizbeth’s anxious voice pulled me from my dark thoughts.

“Yes?” I couldn’t manage much beyond that simple word.

Lizbeth stood there, a folded piece of paper in her hand. She stared at the outstretched piece of paper as if it might explode if not handled gently. “I found this tucked under a glass. It was at the table with the weres. Someone left it.”

I eased the paper from her pinched fingers before glancing at the now empty table. I hadn’t even noticed their absence. I was doing a piss-poor job keeping an eye on our unwanted guests.

Pushing my failure from my mind, I concentrated on the scrawled writing and felt my eyebrows pull tight as my brow pinched. The note was for Sedrick or, more specifically, Alpha Voss.

“I thought about taking it over myself, but the boss looks like he’s in deep conversation with everyone. I didn’t know if it was okay to disturb them or not.”

“I’m sure it would have been fine, but I understand and appreciate your hesitancy. I will make sure Alpha Voss gets the message.”

“Thanks, Leon.” Lizbeth sagged with relief before ducking behind the bar.

The paper was little more than a folded sheet, so light I barely registered the weight. I had no idea what the contents were but given it was addressed to Sedrick, whatever was on the note was not intended for my eyes.

Lizbeth was correct. Lucroy was ensconced in a meeting of sorts. Hellfire and Wendall were missing but whatever was said, I knew they’d be filled in soon. Or perhaps they were already aware of Vander’s news.

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