Page 6 of Ruthlessly Mated
I am good at hiding, and there are some outbuildings to hide in. Places where they fix the machinery. Places where they keep cargo that can’t be moved right away. Places where the workerslive, mostly little cabins arranged around the back of the port, up by the fence that runs around the perimeter. Plus there’s the usual barrels, concrete pipes, bags of whatever is inside the bags.
There’s quite a few people still moving around. Some of them are carrying things, others are watching people carry things. I zip through them, trying not to draw anybody’s attention. I figure there’s got to be three or four different places they probably won’t look. Most of them are deeply filthy, but that’s how you hide. In places where nobody else wants to go. That’s the whole ethos of the entire pirate port. Legit ships don’t anchor here.
Before I can decide where to hide, I am yanked into a dark alley by a pale, wizened hand with long, dark nails that curls into my coat and does not let go. Red eyes gleam in the darkness as the narrow face of a horrid little predator leers at me.
“Oh, my, you’re in trouble, aren’t you?”
Sometimes it’s nice to hear someone familiar when you’re in the middle of a stressful situation in a far-off place, but this is not one of these times. Cyril is a skinny man with stringy hair and fangs that somehow manage to not look even slightly intimidating. He smirks at me, drawing his upper lip back over his fangs. They’re short. And honestly, kind of blunt. I think I see a little bit of rat fur stuck to them.
He won’t bite me. I won’t taste good, and he knows it.
Cyril is a vampire, but not one I respect. His boss? That’s a different matter. This smarmy little fucker was turned as a sort of punishment about twenty years ago. Cyril has absolutely no power and very little in the way of menace. He’s the vampire equivalent of the kid who gets bullied wherever he goes because he’s such a little shit.
“I told on you,” he says.
“You did? Who did you tell? And what did you tell them?”
“Well, I told the boss where you were, because I want the bounty, but then I realized you weren’t in the toll book because you didn’t pay the toll on your cargo. So then I dressed up as a waitress and informed the port masters.”
“You dressed up as a waitress? Why?”
“Because I’m a freaky little fucker,” he says with surprising self-awareness.
“Yeah? And who are they? The port masters?”
I think I already know, but I’ll let Cyril monologue a little.
“You should have paid the toll for that cargo, Kita,” he says. “Now there’re three alpha wolves who are going to tear you apart. They’re going to rip you up, in more ways than one.”
Alright, that’s enough.
I grab Cyril back, which surprises him because he was pretty damn sure he was grabbing me, but I push him hard, right against the far wall, slamming him against the stone. In the same motion, I yank a stake from the holster on my thigh and stab it into his chest. I don’t do it quite hard enough to reach his heart. Not right away, anyway, but I feel his ribs crack and I know that has to hurt like hell. I grit my teeth in a vicious animal smile. This isn’t mercy. I am always ready to kill anybody, living or dead. He should know that.
“Easy,” Cyril giggles, high-pitched, enjoying this. He’s a masochistic little fucker, covered in scars from a human life that hurt a lot, but never really hurt enough. He loves beinga vampire, loves being able to take damage over and over and always heal from it. I keep forgetting that, because I desperately don’t want the information in my mind.
I press the stake more firmly against his chest. I can hear his insides squishing. I push much harder and he’ll be staked.
“You’re a fucking scumbag,” I tell him. “You’re a scummy piece of shit.”
“And you’re a female wolf with no mate, just asking to be brought into heat. Can’t you smell them coming? Better run. Not that there’s any way off this beach besides the main gate, and you won’t be taking that truck through without their say-so.”
He’s right. I can smell male wolf on the breeze. It smells like getting caught and getting in serious fucking trouble.
I let Cyril go and run.
“She’s over here!” I can hear him immediately giving me up. How the hell did he find me so quickly? Did he find me before I even got here? I could have sworn I didn’t see any bats following the boat, but they’re little things and it’s possible I missed one.
I don’t have time to work it out. It’s all too late. I have to just hide somewhere. Anywhere. Where the hell am I going to hide?
My eye alights on an option.
No. I can’t.
I can’t.
I have to.
I dive head-first into a barrel of fish. I am instantly surrounded by soft and squishy creatures covering me in oil. I’m hoping itwill conceal my odor, at the very least. They won’t be able to track me here. I can’t really breathe terribly well, so I have to stick my nose out the top of the fish, which aren’t really that fresh. This is genius, and very stupid.
