Let Him In (Let Him Trilogy) (12 page)

The scooter’s brakes squeaked like a mouse caught in a trap as Lacey pulled into an empty space at the back of the Burger King parking lot. She dashed across the black asphalt, almost drooling from the heavenly aroma of flame-broiled beef and fried potatoes wafting out of the restaurant.

Pausing outside the entrance, she plunged her hands into the pockets of her jeans, pulling out four crumpled dollar bills from one and a handful of loose change from the other. She had deliberately left the rest of her money at home to guard against being a total pig and ordering an Extra Value Meal plus dessert, which she was now regretting because a vanilla and caramel sundae would definitely hit the spot.

After tossing several pieces of lint on the ground, Lacey started figuring up her stash only to lose count when The Scorpions started screaming their song “Rock You Like A Hurricane”.

She looked up just as Clark shot out of the parking lot, his Iroc-Z almost colliding with a rusted pickup truck carrying a herd of teenage boys wearing camouflage T-shirts and John Deere hats. 

“Wonder who pissed in his Wheaties,” she mumbled, turning her attention back to the money in her hand. Before she could resume counting something slammed into her shoulder and the next thing she knew the top of her head was being pelted by raindrops that felt a helluva lot like pebbles.

“Watch where you’re going, you stupid fucking bitch!” 

Spinning around as a hail of pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters bounced off the sidewalk and rolled away in multiple directions, Lacey came face-to-face with Heather. “Considering I was standing still and you were walking,” she retorted, “I’d say that you’re the dumb ass who needs to watch where she’s going.”

Heather bared her bleached teeth and tightened her grip on her purse as she took a step forward. “What did you call me?”

A zing of adrenaline made Lacey feel like she’d just undergone a round of electroshock therapy. “Dumb ass,” she replied. “D. U. M. B. A. S. S.” She took a step forward. “Do you need me to draw you a picture, too? If you have a piece of paper and a pencil I can sketch a caricature of you in less than a minute.”  

Heather’s arm tensed. Just when it looked like she was going to throw a punch, she averted her gaze for a couple seconds. When she looked back, she smiled. There was no friendliness in it though. None whatsoever. Without another word, she pranced over to a black van, adjusting her mammoth breasts as she leaned against it.

“I hope they pop,” Lacey mumbled, spinning around to slam into what could only be a brick wall, which made the last word come out as pop-
ahhh-uhhh!
as she bounced backwards, hands grasping at air, arms flapping like a baby bird on its maiden voyage. The sidewalk vanished from under her feet a split second before her ass smacked the pavement. Hard molars chomped down on spongy tongue, flooding her mouth with the taste of copper.

“Fuck!” 

As Lacey turned her head to spit, something shiny and black caught her attention:  Shoes. Mens’ shoes. On huge men feet.

Requiring a little more effort than she would ever admit, Lacey resisted the urge to snap her head up—any sudden movement might be misconstrued as fear and she wasn’t about to give this jerk the pleasure of thinking he had that kind of power over her.

Lacey’s gaze slowly traveled up as she swiped the back of her hand across her bloody mouth. Black slacks adorned with a thin, black leather belt. Black, long-sleeved silk shirt, top three buttons undone. An overwhelming sense of déjà vu made her scalp prickle as her unblinking gaze continued its journey up to latch onto a pair of ice-blue eyes that regarded her as if she was a dirty wad of chewing gum stuck to the bottom of the owner’s polished wingtip Oxfords.

“You,” she breathed, her heart skipping a beat.

“Me,” he confirmed, his deep, smooth voice—which made her think of whiskey and honey for some odd reason. One corner of his mouth curled up as he extended his large hand.

Yeah, right.

Bending her hands back, Lacey placed one on each side of her head, palms flat against the asphalt. She curled her legs up to her chest until only her shoulders were touching the ground and then pushed off of it with her hands, springing forward just as The Man stepped back and out of her way. She landed perfectly on both feet in a semi-crouch. Stone-faced on the outside, she was grinning with pride on the inside as she rose to a statue-stiff stance.

Damn, he got even taller…

Oh wait—he’s standing on the sidewalk.

Refusing to crane her neck, Lacey lifted only her eyes, meeting The Man’s cold gaze. His half-smile was gone, replaced with the same hard set to his jaw and mouth she’d seen that night on the road, right before he’s ordered her to get out of his way. The memory of how quickly she’d obeyed and how scared she’d been ignited a fire in her veins.

He didn’t look so intimidating now.

Yeah, because you’re in a public place with people around, Chicken Little.

Rising up to her full sixty-five inches of height, Lacey said, “You need to move,” repeating what he’d told her with just a hint of sarcasm in her steady voice.

His dark brows furrowed. She lifted hers as she folded her arms over her chest. “
Now
.”

Lacey maintained eye contact as The Man stepped down off the sidewalk. Some unidentifiable emotion flashed in his narrowed eyes a second before his top lip curled up, revealing what she swore had been fangs.

And then he simply stormed off.

Lacey told herself to walk away as The Man advanced toward Heather, but her feet had become cement blocks. She ordered herself to avert her gaze as he stroked Heather’s cheek with the back of his hand, but her eyes were glued in place. She commanded her fingers into her ears to block out Heather’s giggling moan as his lips found her neck, but Lacey’s hands remained clenched at her sides.

She couldn’t move or even blink, as if an invisible force attached to The Man had commandeered her brain, rendering it completely useless to her...

That was, until he looked at her again and she saw that he was smirking. Narrowing her eyes at him, Lacey clenched her teeth as she fought the urge to walk over and slap that cocky grin right off his stupid face.

Who the hell did he think he was anyway? He wasn’t even remotely attractive! His lips were little more than flesh colored strips above a chin that would have made Jay Leno feel inadequate. His hair was the color of chimney soot and looked as though he’d walked out of the salon in mid-cut. And his eyes were like a Siberian Husky’s—dog eyes, for Christ’s sake!

Lacey snorted as he helped Heather into the van. “No need to knock yourself out, Romeo,” she murmured, “I’d bet my Whopper that she’s a sure thing.”

The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Or maybe it was the blood.

She swallowed hard as The Man closed the passenger side door and then just stood there staring at the ground for what felt like hours before finally snapping his head in her direction. His emotionless face coupled with the vigorous scrutiny of his luminous gaze sent a chill up Lacey’s spine. He seemed to be studying her, like she was some complex puzzle he couldn’t figure out. 

Suppressing a shiver, Lacey lifted her chin as she spun around. Slowly bending over, she deliberately arched her back, thrusting her butt into the air before she squatted.
I hope that hint to kiss my ass wasn’t too subtle for you, Romeo.

While she picked up the change scattered all over the parking lot, Lacey listened intently to the sounds coming from behind her: The rapid clicking of heels on asphalt. A car door being slammed. An engine turning over, roaring to life, revved. Tires squealing.

Nope, not too subtle at all.

Finishing her task, Lacey grinned as she stood up. She resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder as she entered the fast food restaurant.

A couple minutes later, Whopper and small root beer in hand, she made her way to a booth in the back. Sitting down, she caught a whiff of what reminded her of a high-priced candle she’d once sniffed at the mall, something that smelled like a man’s cologne.

Lacey inhaled deeply, moving her head as she tried to pinpoint the location of the smell, which seemed to be all around her. When she bowed her head the scent became stronger. Goosebumps erupted all over her body as she lifted the neckline of her tee shirt to her nose—Romeo’s scent was all over her, as if she had bathed in him.

This time, Lacey couldn’t suppress the shiver that tore through her body.

“—that’s all he is!”

What is going on, Blodbad?

“Just a stupid little boy.”

Tell me, please.

“Heeeellooo?”

Goddamn it, speak!

“Are you even listening to me?”

Zane swallowed the growl tickling the back of his throat. Heather had not stopped talking since they met, and he now regretted his irrational decision in choosing her as a permanent menu item. Until he had taken the edge off his thirst, however, he was stuck with the babbling blonde.

“Yes,” he hissed, easing the van to a stop at the rear of the deserted carnival grounds. “I have heard every...single...word.”

“I need someone who’s smart enough to realize how lucky he is to have me,” Heather continued, apparently oblivious to the irritation Zane had not bothered to conceal. “Someone who will treat me like the goddess that I am.” She pulled a CD out of her purse, shoved the disc into the slot. “Someone who will worship the ground that I walk on.”

Zane ground his teeth as Heather turned in the passenger seat so that she was facing him and then leaned back against the door. “A real man,” she said, placing one pink-sandaled foot on the seat and one on the dashboard. “That’s what I need.” She slid her hand between her thighs, parted the folds of her cunt. “Hungry?”

Zane’s gums began to tingle, however now that he finally had an opportunity to speak, there was a burning question he needed to extinguish before answering the call of the blood coursing through the blonde’s veins. “Tell me about the girl.”

“What?” Her brows furrowed. “Who?”

“The one with whom you were arguing.”

Heather’s feet hit the floorboard as she sat up. “Why do you want to know about her?”

Zane conjured the most charming smile he could without completely exposing his fangs. “I take care of my goddess in every way,” he said, placing a hand on Heather’s knee and squeezing gently. “If this girl is causing problems for you...” 

“She’s just some stupid import looking to make a name for herself at my school,” Heather scoffed. “I can handle her.” She smiled as she slid off the passenger seat, hiking up her skirt before straddling him. “But thanks for being a real man and looking out for me.”

Moving her body along with the beat of Lady Gaga’s
Teeth
—the irony of which was not lost on Zane, who barely resisted the urge to show his as the song repeatedly encouraged—Heather began grinding her pussy against his crotch. “And you are definitely a real man,” she breathed. “A real, big, hard man.”

With a tight-lipped smile Zane cupped her ass, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply. He groaned, his head swimming from the scent of her blood.

“That restaurant you took me to was absolutely perfect,” Heather cooed. She licked her lips and then parted them as she leaned forward. 

Zane turned his head.  “No kissing.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Not good at it, huh?”

“Reverse psychology does not work on me.”  

She thrust out her bottom lip.

“Neither does pouting.”

“Then tell me what will,” she said, unbuttoning his shirt.

“Nothing.”

Heather slowly ran the palms of her hands down his chest. “Nothing, huh?” She unfastened the button of his slacks. “Are you sure about that?”

Zane clenched his jaw. “Heather?”

She bit her lower lip as she slowly unzipped him. “Hmmm?”

“I strongly suggest you cease talking and commence fucking.”

“What’s the matter, baby? I got you so hot and bothered you’re afraid you won’t be able to last much longer?”

Zane growled low in his throat. “Something like that, yes.”

Heather’s laugh died instantly when she unzipped his slacks and his cock sprang free. “Jesus,” she whispered, eyes widening.

“What’s the matter, baby,” he said, arching a brow, “too much for you?”

“Oh please, I can handle anything you got.”

“We shall see.”

Narrowing her eyes, Heather wrapped her hand around the base of his cock. Her glossy lips, which had been pressed tight together, flew apart when she lowered herself onto him. A series of sharp hisses and throaty moans filled the van as she very slowly forced her body to accept every long, thick inch of him.

Zane shifted his gaze from Heather’s scrunched up expression to the black velvet sky. The mystery girl’s face appeared in his mind’s eye as he stared at the pale blue moon suspended high above the tops of the pine trees surrounding them. What had occurred was impossible, and yet—

Twas a hallucination, my child.