Page 14 of Bullets and Blood
Lance covered Nix’s hand with his, trying not to lose him.It was the wrong thing to do; Nix’s eyes narrowed as he regarded Lance.
His fingers slid free.“I didn’t run.I kept my word.Do I get the same from you?”
Lance nodded.What had that kiss been?It hadn’t been faked.He’d felt the need—or was that his own?
“Well, that’ll be a first from an Orlan.”
Lance grabbed Nix’s hand and pressed it to the table, the purple fluer-de-lis visible.“Two weeks?—”
“Thirteen and a half days.”
“Fine, thirteen and a half days.No talk of families in that time.I am not a composite of their grudges and demands.”
“Nor am I, yet the blood in my veins makes me a wanted man.”He flipped their hands, pinning Lance’s with a strength his lithe body shouldn’t have.
Lance was sure the cops would like to talk to Nix about a few unsolved missing persons, but every family made sure no vampire was ever caught—that would be bad for everyone.A vampire in a prison would only go unnoticed for so long.The biting would be caught on CCTV, and the lack of aging would raise eyebrows.Those in his family who got caught were supposed to do the noble thing of ending their life.
Nix released Lance’s hand.“Will you be stalking me for the next thirteen and a half days?”
“I have nothing better to do.”
Nix smiled, no fangs, no warmth.“The next time I see you, I’ll bite.”
I hope so.
ChapterEight
Nix drapedthe towel around his shoulders and watched the waves roll in.The surf was good, but there was a chill in the air he couldn’t ignore.If he was going to keep surfing at night as winter closed in, he was going to need to acquire a wetsuit.
He lit the joint and inhaled, pretending he was sixteen again and had nothing more pressing to worry about than his exam results.Why he’d even given a shit about his grades, he didn’t know.It hadn’t mattered how good his results were; he’d been going nowhere fast.He just hadn’t known it at the time.
He exhaled.Eleven years later and not much had changed, but he knew the reasons and understood the consequences.
He hadn’t changed, not since being turned.However, he understood why his brothers had become mad keen gym junkies in the months before they’d been turned.He possibly should’ve listened to them, but there’d been a few years where things had been changing, and he thought he might slip the family noose.He took another drag.
It really wasn’t worth stealing a wetsuit for thirteen days.
Bitterness surged.
He still had no fucking plan.
He was going to die slowly and painfully just so the Orlans could claim victory.
He stared at the joint.Either this was poor quality, or no amount of dope could take the edge away tonight.He closed his eyes and filled his lungs, holding his breath as he willed time to stop and unwind.
His mother had been going to buy a large winery.A way to move into entertainment.Weddings, alcohol.Legit businesses.He’d put his hand up to do the winemaking course when he finished school.It was just science, and he was good at that.He’d been seventeen when the peace talks had turned into murder.
His lungs burned, but he didn’t exhale.Not yet.
A year later, he’d been turned and joined the war, taking out targets and trying not to get hit himself while he finished his last year at school.He shouldn’t have bothered finishing year 12.His education didn’t matter.The winery became a forgotten plan.Only survival mattered.Then, the war had gone to the streets, with the Orlans making a mess that couldn’t be hidden from the humans.‘Rival gangs,’ the cops called it, and the media had lapped up the lie.
While vampire wars were usually fought at night, this one had spilled into daylight.It lasted years.Picking through their numbers, decimating both families.And he’d played his part like an obedient soldier.
He exhaled and coughed.His eyes watered.It was all so pointless.
He opened his eyes to stare at the stars.Behind him, someone was coming down the track to the beach.Their footsteps knocked rocks off the path, so they bounced down the slope.It wasn’t the most accessible place.His bike was nestled in the shrubs and would hopefully still be there when he went back up, or it would be a long walk home.
He listened more intently to the footsteps, blocking out the sound of the waves hitting the beach and the crackle of the burning paper and weed.One set, not kids hiding from parents or dealers doing business.
