Page 88 of Bad Seed
Oh, and drank.
I kick my foot back, bottles clinking like bells.
It could have been anything. Peanuts. That’s a popular one. Or shellfish.
Celery!
But no. “I had to fall for the girl that’s allergic to eggplant.”
I couldn’t face her. Tell her that I nearly killed her.
Watching her gasp for air and writhe in pain drove me into a homicidal panic. I know the signs well. A decade or so of honing that to an edge makes it easy to spot—not as easy to control. In the hospital, watching her lie there with gray skin and an oxygen mask strapped to her face, I vowed to put whoever poisoned her in the ground.
But it was me.
I look down at the deck chair I’ve slept in the last two nights. Sand’s blown in to bury it a good six inches. Give it another week, and I may make good on my threat.
“I couldn’t stay.”
Astin pauses in his vain attempt to attack the seagull.
“You know how I get around her.” Like a stallion that breaks down a fence to get to a mare in heat. Seeing her makes me want to rip her clothes off with my teeth. Touching her makes me want to shove her legs aside and fuck her all night. Being inside of her…
There’s nothing better in the world.
I take another drink and frown.Sure as shit ain’t this weird-ass tequila. What does some actor from Minnesota know about agave anyway?
So I ran.
“What could I say?” I argue with my cat like he’s my conscious and not a fifteen pound fuzzball without his braincell. “Hi. I’m an eggplant. Sort of. It’s an old family thing. More a curse, really. It makes me like poison to your body. Your hot, luscious, squeezable body…”
A moan slips out and I drop my hand to my crotch. The sound of a slipping windbreaker rises from my trunks and I pause before I do something stupid. It’s not that anyone would care. The beach is just Astin and me. But if I think about her, those lips parting over my cock, her fingers traipsing down my chest, or her tits smothering my head—I’m gonna fucking lose it.
I can’t go back.
I made sure of it.
She may be my drug of choice, but I needed to get through a detox program stat. Or else, I could kill her.
Squash’s offer rings in the back of my head like a siren on its way to a fire. I could take it. Run off to the east, fall right back in to what I ran from in the first place. She couldn’t love that. Couldn’t want a man who makes his living threatening others and destroying lives.
One thing’s true though, I can’t keep wallowing here. Eventually, someone’s going to come looking. If the Nightshades win, I’ll have to deal with the peppers. And if the Brassicas inevitably crush those little upstarts, they’ll want to tie up any loose ends.
I’m the loosest end that’s left.
Maybe I should go back to Cebu. It’s been decades. The farm’s probably all cleaned up by now. New owners might need a hand to run things. Or, most likely, corral tourists for one of their destination packages. Who’d ever think that the large man carrying Prada bags used to be in the mob?
Or that he can turn into an eggplant.
“A fucking eggplant,” I moan again, falling back into oblivion.
Four paws and a creature weighing a hundred pounds lands on my chest. I wheeze and stare up at my cat who’s glaring at me with scary focus. “What do you want?”
Astin meows.
“I couldn’t tell her anything. If she knew, then…the Shades would find out. They can’t let our little secret out into the world.”
Orange eyes call me on my bullshit.
