Page 2 of Reaper's Revenge
The female squeaks again, and I release her wrist, tossing it aside as I scrape my hands over my face and throw my legs over the side of the bed. I manage to make it to my feet without stumbling, so that’s a positive I didn’t drink too much yesterday. Yes, I can still drink liquor, along with other beverages, and eat food. I don’t have too, but I also don’t want to only rely on blood to sustain me. I can’t completely go without, or again, hello bloodlust. I’ll end up gorging myself and draining a few humans in the process.
Believe it or not, but my mission in life isn’t to suck as many people dry as possible. I won’t lie; this disease has altered my thought process to accept the fact that everything tastes better since I was bitten. Not only blood, but everything.
Cheeseburger. Fucking delicious.
Whiskey. Divine.
I tug on a clean pair of ebony-washed jeans and a matching T-shirt. It’s basically what I wear every day. I figure you can’t go wrong with black, since it hides red. I slide my arms into a hoodie in my customary color, flipping the hood over my head, effectively hiding my inky hair. What can I say, I guess I’m a dark guy. Go figure, since I’ve been turned into a fucking vampire and all.
It's not only me; my entire club has suffered the same fate as I have. How they’ve learned to embrace it is something I still struggle with. “Leave,” I order the woman, and she quickly obliges, probably rushing off to eat something. Compulsion and increased strength have been the best outcomes of this entire situation, in my opinion. Being turned heightens every sense, and I’ve learned to take advantage of it. So have my brothers.
I slip on my cut and, without a backward glance at the dark hole my room has become, I head for the common area. I overslept, according to a text I’ve received from Bones, telling me to hurry the fuck up. Unless it’s club business or I’ve got a new lead on Veronica, the fucking cunt who turned me, then I have no real reason to wake any earlier.
My glower is met by the various stares from my brothers as I enter, immediately looking for a cup of strong black coffee. A bit of caffeine after starting my morning with a bit of O is exactly what I need to shake off the last remnants of the nightmare I had. It’s always the same. Veronica turning me when I never wanted any of this, and then being stuck in a big glass box where I can’t break free. I have no way of getting any blood, and I go crazy with madness from bloodlust.
And people wonder why I’m a grouchy asshole most of the time.
“VP,” Bones greets me with a nod. “Nice of you to finally join us,” he mutters.
“Doesn’t look like your ass is on fire, so no reason for me to set an alarm clock.”
The brothers chuckle along with Bones as he watches me make myself a cup of coffee. Taking the first sip, I allow the tongue-burning liquid to fill my mouth before swallowing it back. A blood whore stirs from a couch nearby and quickly takes off toward their rooms. Once we’ve fed, they’ve been compelled to leave us alone until called upon again. They may want to be here and volunteer their blood, but we all know it’s because of their desire to be turned, and none of us wants to impose this burden on anyone else until we know they truly desire this change. There is no going back once it’s done; the change is forever.
“We’re headed to the diner.”
“I can’t believe we’re still having church there,” I grumble.
“No choice,” Silver, our treasurer, grits out. “Half the clubhouse is still jacked up from the last storm. The contractors we hired are dragging their feet. Claiming it’ll take an additional two weeks.”
My stare lands on Bones again, “You letting them get away with that?” As VP, he welcomes my challenge, knows I’ll keep him on his toes when he needs it.
He releases a growl pointed in my direction. “Mayhem, if you catch the little weasel we hired out late enough, make sure he knows we’re tired of waiting.”
I’d smirk, but it’d come off as gloating, and I’m not trying to piss on Bone’s toes. He’d likely break a few of my bones, and I’d try to kill him. It’d turn into this big thing, and our club doesn’t need any added drama. Mayhem, our enforcer, will handle things, and we’ll be back here at Church before we know it.
“Bikes are gassed and ready. Midnight took care of filling them and shining them up.” Our road captain, King, interrupts the sudden, tense atmosphere my awakening has brought amongst the club. It’s not like I can help it. I’m angry inside, and everyone knows it. We’re brothers, though, always having each other’s backs. Being turned is how we all ended up finding each other and the club in the first place. The old Prez was a vampire and gave us a place amongst our peers where we could be ourselves.
“Bet, let’s get the hell over there before Reaper has time to rip someone’s head off.” Prez orders and we all follow.
“More like rip out their throat,” I huff. The first thing I notice when we’re outside, climbing on our bikes, is that King was right. Midnight cleaned our motorcycles well; they shine under the outdoor lights we have posted all around the club. With a quick glance at my cell, I realize I slept way later than I usually do, and the sun set a while ago. I typically wake around seven to catch the last of the light outside, but I missed it completely today.
“Nice job, Prospect.” Lucky, our Sgt. at Arms, calls as we twist the throttles and our combined engines roar in the parking lot.
The ride to the café doesn’t take long, and before I know it, I’m backing my bike into a spot next to Bones and climbing off. It’s past their closing time, so the lot and inside are empty. The owner borrowed some cash from Bones and still owes him, so he’s taking advantage of making our presence known. Ever since a wild storm damaged part of our club, the chapel included, we’ve been coming here.
One by one, we stroll through the front door, bell jingling, announcing our presence.
Chapter Three
Athena
I’m in the back when I hear the jingle from the front door to the café. “Our break's over, I guess,” I meet Francine’s tired stare and take the last bite of my fries, which are covered in melted cheese and brown gravy. I’ve been eating this creation since I was a kid, and it’s stuck with me. I have half my plate left, but I guess they’re trash now.
“You go lock the front door behind this group and grab their drinks. I’ll box your food up for you.”
She stands with me, grabbing my plate.
“Oh, thank you, I appreciate it.” I know she’s tired, and also probably not thrilled about staying up late tonight. She’s usually tuckered out by nine p.m. and needing help, so the extra hour has to be weighing on her.
