Page 53 of The Vampire's Thirst
Chiara’s mouth fell open. “I think you mean Al-Qaeda. And they’re from the Middle East, not the East Coast.”
She gave a whatever-wave with her hand while she turned a toothy grin to Dax. She placed the cheeseburgers in front of him.
“Where’s my salad?” asked Chiara.
“Coming.”
“You’re all crazy,” said the man in the booth behind them again. “Just a carnival. By tomorrow night, we’ll see shooting games, Ferris wheels, food booths. No terrorists. No aliens. No army. No movie-makers. But a lot of good girls are going to have their hearts broken and their dads will be getting out the rifles.”
“This has been helpful,” muttered Dax, biting into his burger, his pupils eyeing up the waitress like dessert.
Once carrot-top left, Chiara reminded Dax of a promise. “Remember what I said about feeding?”
“What?”
“I’m not seconds.” She tapped a finger to the vein in her neck. “You take from this but no one else. Get my drift?” Dax may not be the hero she once thought him, but she was possessive of him. Her blood was a bargaining chip to make him hers. Maybe for only a brief time.
Dax rolled his eyes.
Chiara kicked his shins under the table. “Scary vampires don’t do eye-rolls. They show fang, growl, bite. They do not act like a teenage girl.”
Dax almost snapped the tabletop when he got out of the booth to clomp off.
Chiara shrugged with an explanation to the patrons. “My boyfriend is very upset because he’s having penile-dysfunction issues.”
Dax, obviously hearing her, strong-armed the door. The bell on it clanged, shook, and clunked to the floor.
Everybody seemed a little sorry for him.
Chapter Twelve
Thesatyr waited among the thick trees with a clear line of sight to the log cabin while the witch he was forced to bring along plagued him with endless questions. Why did Lort think he needed her help to investigate the scene?
“So the vampire came through the portal back there, and the two demons and a warlock dug out his D-chip but were distracted before they could kill him?”
He nodded, wondering how many times she was going to ask the same questions.
“You found him as he was escaping in a car with a female?”
The satyr wanted to snatch her by the hair and bitch-slap her. Maybe he’d just fuck her into silence. “For the third time, yes. That’s why we’re going into the cabin to re-check it.”
“Don’t get testy with me. I was assigned this task by the general himself. I don’t fail.”
“I do? Bullshit.”
“I didn’t see you bring in the target’s body. Did I miss something?”
The satyr had almost caught the vampire Firebrand. Then the male flipped him out of the car window. The flesh on his back was still raw from his skin-meets-gravel skid. The hunt was now personal. Besides, the satyr did not intend to wind up on the wrong end of Lort’s sword as the demon and warlock had. Just more victims of the vampire’s anger. “No, but I was close.”
“You know the whole close and horseshoes saying. Anyway, let’s go inside.”
With a smirk, the witch pushed him aside on her way to the porch.
Damn cunt.
They stepped quietly onto the steps and knocked. When there was no answer, the satyr twisted the knob. The door swung open. He palmed a gun and crept inside, motioning for the witch to follow. He scented the air. “Empty. They haven’t returned.”
“We’ll split up. I’ll take this side.” Her booted feet tapped on the wood planks as she headed for the kitchen.
