Page 7 of Reaper's Revenge
I nod multiple times, like once isn’t enough or something, and I swear, I must come off as an airheaded bimbo with my lack of vocabulary around this group. With how handsome these guys are, however, I’m sure they’re used to women going a bit doe-eyed around them. “No problem,” I respond immediately, putting my customer service face back on, silently chastising myself for not checking back on them before they finished. No three-bite checkup and no pre-bussing means I wasted away any chance at a decent tip, I’m sure. Not that I can blame them, I was distracted and getting repaid in a new way tonight.
“See you later, darling,” the big man in front of me whispers, his words feeling more like a promise than merely spoken words.
Do I want to see him later? Of course. I’m borderline obsessed with the kiss we just shared to the point I will most likely go home and dream about it tonight.
Will I see him again? I doubt it, he strikes me as the just passing through town type, although they have come in on more than one occasion, so maybe it’ll happen after all. If so, hopefully by then I’ve gotten my wits about me once more, and I can be normal around them, versus this stuttering, dimwitted server I’m sure I came off as.
“Bye,” I offer them both a smile and let them leave the alcove first.
I inhale deeply, collecting myself as best I can. After a moment, I leave the area, ready to thank them and call out for them to have a good night. Only, I find the restaurant completely empty. Francine’s the only one left behind with me, and she’s busy in the back singing to herself as she finishes putting her food prep and extras in the walk-in cooler.
The rumble of multiple motorcycles fills the air minutes later, and I wonder how I missed it the first time when they’d arrived. They’re loud and imposing, like thunder rumbling right outside the door. I momentarily stand still, transfixed as they begin to pull out of the parking lot. One by one, the row of bikes steadily becomes this long snake with bright headlights down the road as they leave. The air grows silent to the point it’s eerie in their absence.
The quietness has a fresh case of the chill’s skirting over my body. I quickly rub my arms, willing them away as I grab a plastic bus tub and head for the table. Each plate is cleaned, except for the bone from the steak. That’s not all, the plates are all neatly stacked into three piles of four, with the empty coffee cups placed together in the middle. At the now-empty spot where Reaper’s plate sat lies a hundred-dollar bill. I know it’s not for the dinner receipt either, because Jimmy told me to leave him the check to comp tomorrow.
Whoever these bikers are, they sure are intimidating. Yet, they’ve shown me nothing but polite kindness and have tipped me higher than anyone else. I certainly hope they return.
Those red flags I was freaking over earlier no longer seem so bright.
Chapter Six
Reaper
I’m standing in the shadows, waiting for Athena to finish locking the café up. I’d parked my bike down the street far enough that my pipes wouldn’t be heard, then walked back. I was planning on watching her a bit through the windows while she cleaned or whatever, not having enough of her from earlier. Of course, once I saw her face, it changed to me needing to get her number. However, something inside held me back, as my gut told me to wait and watch, and now, I’m glad I did.
The cook drives off, after asking repeatedly if Athena wants a ride home. She’s adamant about saying no, claiming she needs the walk after her shift. I wish she’d have gotten in the car, something we’ll have to work on in the future.
I’m relieved my bike is in the opposite direction she heads, so it doesn’t come off as suspicious. I stick to the shadows, unable to stop myself from following her. I need to see where she lives, since I obviously didn’t get her number in time. Had I interrupted her in the parking lot, things would’ve gotten too awkward. The last thing I want to do is scare her and the older lady, so she doesn’t want to see me.
We head down the street that the café’s on for about two blocks before taking a right. There are a few houses this way, but it’s an older part of town, so everything isn’t too close. After a beat, I notice I’m not the only one in the shadows who thinks following Athena is a good idea.
The difference is I’m quieter and faster.
Deadlier.
In the next blink, I have him in my arms. I grip him tightly, overpowering him from behind, as I drag the man into the closest alleyway. I pull us behind a dumpster to help hide us from any late-night prying eyes.
His mouth gapes, his frightened stare widening in terror, as I lean in, biting savagely. One hand covers his mouth to muffle his scream; the other has his arms locked down so he can’t fight me too much. His jerking and jumping only last minutes before he’s lost enough blood to become lethargic.
I drink, and then drink some more, noting his blood is tinged with far too much alcohol. I’ll end up with a buzz if I drain him, so I stop myself, tearing his throat out instead. It’s messy, covering me in his blood, but the local cops will never be able to figure out it was a vampire attack. Not that they even know we’re real. To the humans, we’re just a myth. A fantasy someone made up one day, and has since haunted people with the absurd movies out there to watch.
I toss his body to the ground, noting how his lifeless eyes stare up at the sky. Nothing up there could’ve saved him from me; I was too hell bent on protecting Athena. I kick the dead man, using it to shove his legs and arms out of the way so no one will spot him right away. Finding a dry spot on my shirt, I use it to wipe away some of the blood on my face, and then I’m out of the alley, searching for Athena.
She’s easy to find, her scent from the restaurant lingering behind her. It’s like she’s left me my own special trail to follow, I think as I get closer and closer, her scent becoming stronger. Eventually, I stop, peering out of the darkness to watch her. She’s already made it home, I note as she slides her house key into the lock and twists her doorknob. Everything inside pushes for me to reveal myself, but I hold back.
Watching. Taking in the way she huffs as the lock doesn’t turn easily the first time she tries it. The second time is more successful. Her sigh of relief is audible to my ears, even this far away, thanks to my enlightened senses. It’s a good thing I didn’t let the man near her; she’s already exhausted and probably would’ve had a hard time fighting him off.
As she pushes against the front door, eventually disappearing inside, it hits me that I won’t be able to see her again for the rest of the night. My chest aches at the realization, wishing I could be inside with her right now. She was a breath of fresh air amongst all the same mundane bullshit I deal with on a night-to-night basis.
Later, the scent of blood hits me, instantly putting me on edge. Ready to investigate, I look down and realize it’s me the overwhelming blood smell is wafting from. Athena was enough of a distraction to make me momentarily forget all about the man I’d swiftly taken a chunk out of a few blocks back. Probably a good thing I was late to her house and didn’t approach her in the end. If she’d have witnessed me like this, well, she’d never want anything to do with me ever again. Of that, I’m sure of.
With one last lingering gaze at the last place I saw her, I zip away, back to my bike. I can’t move at super-speed or anything, but take the fastest track runner on Earth, and I’d give them a run for their money. My entire club would.
I swing my leg over my motorcycle, get situated, then fire it up. The sound and vibrations are soothing as I pull out on the street and head back to the clubhouse.
The typical blood whores are around when I arrive, waiting for one of us to use them, but it won’t be me tonight. I’ve had plenty to hold me over for a few days at least. A couple of them watch me, eagerly hoping I’ll give them what they want. They should know by now that I’m the last person who will turn anyone. I’m still angry over it happening to me, and it’s been many years since it happened.
Vicious and Machete are on me like white on rice, leaning in to give me a long sniff. “Fuck off,” I grumble, shoving at them.
