Page 48 of The Shadows We Keep

Only darkness consumes.

Thud… pound… pound… pound.

Sharp noises draw me into a haze as sleep clings to my consciousness. The sounds don’t stop until I push up from the couch, gaining some semblance of realization of what’s going on around me.

The door. Someone’s pounding on the door.

I figure it must be Harkin coming to check on me after I left him on read, but when I pull the door free, Marco stands before me. He sways in the hall, bouncing from one side of the door frame to the other. The stench of cheap beer wafts off him in waves. He stumbles forward into my apartment, and I back away quickly to keep a distance between us.

“Marco, what are you doing?”

“You called me.” His predatory smile sends shivers down my spine.

“You should leave. Come back when you can coherently talk about why I called.”

His hand grips my wrist, pulling me into his body. My exhaustion weighs heavily against my limbs, but I push him as hard as I can muster. He stumbles backwards, falling against the counter, shoving my mail to the floor as he grasps for stabilization.

“But you called me baby, and I came.” He doesn’t take the hint coming at me again. I swerve in the opposite direction.

Calling over my shoulder, I say, “Just give me a second. Have a seat.”

Rifling through my nightstand in the dark of my room, my hand skims against the cool feel of my blades. I shove them into their normal spots, wishing I had my holsters strapped to me. A ring filters in from the other room, and I make a run for it, slapping my hand against the counter and bringing it to my ear before it’s knocked away from me, clattering against the floor.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Marco stalks toward me before my back hits the side of the fridge.

“Marco, just leave. Come back tomorrow when you can think clearly,” I plead, but his eyes scan my body, paying little attention to my words.

“I’m going to take what you owe. What you’ve owed for months.” His sneer twists the once playful look into something nightmares are made of; something I’ve seen many times before as I’ve battled the prey of this world.

His nose traces my face, the wet warmth of his tongue following suit. I cringe at the contact. My hand slips behind my back, clutching the handle in my palm.

“You need to leave.” My voice is firm.

But he doesn’t pull away. I take a deep breath, pulling my knee up in a quick sweep, but he shifts, and instead of hitting my target, his inner thigh takes the brunt of my attempt. A grunt mixes with my quickened breath, but his body doesn’t budge.

My face snaps to the right before I can process his movement. The sting of his backhand across my cheeks brings tears to my eyes for the second time tonight.

“You bitch.” His fingers grip my hair, yanking my head back, my neck exposed when he bites down a chunk of flesh between his teeth, no doubt drawing blood from the pain that bursts behind my eyes. I cry out.

“You prance around the shop. Making eyes at everyone but me. I treat you right. Feed you. Give you this place to live in at half the price.” His words slur in his attempt to make a point. My body shifts at his accusation, desperate for space, but it’s no use. He’s got me pinned.

I take a deep breath, steadying my mind, knowing the only way I’m about to get out of here is with more brains than brawn. When I flip the switch, my body relaxes against him.

“You never asked.” I look up through my eyelashes, praying to any deity that he’ll take the bait. He stills against me, feather light touches draw up my arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

His eyes are quizzical; probably the last fraction of his rational mind fighting against the drunk idiot that’s taken over control. And something switches in a second. His chapped lips crush mine with a bruising force. He shoves his tongue against my cemented lips.

I could gag against the stench radiating upwards from his hungry mouth, but I swallow it down. Stale beer mixed with the reek of cigarette smoke invades my nose. His tongue finally wins the fight and my lips part just as my hand sneaks from his shoulder to behind my back.

This time I don’t hesitate. Pulling the blade free from its hiding place, I sneak it between our bodies right to his throat and push. The sting must take a second to register because he doesn’t pull back at first. But his eyes widen in surprise when he finally grasps the gravity of his situation.

Then they slowly shift to furry, and I push down a little harder. “Don’t.” My command comes out thick and strong.

“You’re going to back away and leave. You will not come back here. Do you understand me?” He steps back, away from my blade, and shakes his head instead of nodding. But his body retreats further out of the kitchen and into the hallway, making it to the front door, his grimy grip on the handle.

“That notice you got this morning. You’ve got a week to get out.” He doesn’t pause to take in my reaction before slamming the door behind him. I let out a frustrated shriek, throwing the blade after him. It pierces the wood of the front door, exactly where he’d just been. I run to the door, flipping the lock into place, and pulling the chain closed.

My forehead falls against it next to my blade. I kick the door over and over. Of course, this happened to me. My toes find the wood one last time when my ringtone goes off in the other room. Stomping toward the living room, I pluck it from its useless spot on the kitchen floor, mere feet from where Marco just attacked me.

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