Let Him In (Let Him Trilogy) (16 page)

“And what do you like, death metal?”

“Silence.”

“Huh?”

“I do not like noise.” He smirked. “Unless it is a female screaming my name.”

Sammy frowned. “That’s mean.”

Zane laughed. “I was referring to the activities of a sexual nature I spoke of earlier—or, as you called it, a fuck and suck.”

“How can they not notice? You biting them?”

Grinning, Zane cupped his crotch. “I possess something that provides one hell of a distraction.”

“Oh,” Sammy murmured, looking down at his feet. All of a sudden his wiggling toes seemed quite interesting.

Zane laughed again as he clapped Sammy on the back. “Let us go have that drink.”

Sammy nodded, only then realizing how thirsty he was. Would be a shame to have done all that exercise for nothing...

Zane slid his arm around Sammy’s shoulders. “So tell me,” he said as the pair strolled across the yard, “what are the ladies like at school this year?”

Sammy narrowed his eyes fractionally. “Why?”

“Relax, brother. I prefer women, not girls.”

Sammy shrugged. “Pretty much same ole, same ole.”

“Pretty much?”

“Well...” 

A small voice warned Sammy to keep his mouth shut. But it felt so good to be able to talk to someone that he decided to ignore the nagging little bastard inside his head that he’d begun picturing as a little phlegm ball creature like the ones on a Mucinex commercial.

“There’s this new one I like,” he confessed, and then sighed. “But she thinks I’m a freak just like everyone else.”

With a lop-sided grin Zane patted Sammy’s chest as they entered the house. “I have a feeling her opinion will change when she sees you again.” 

Even though he tried to, Sammy couldn’t pop the bubble of hope expanding inside his chest as he climbed up on the bar stool. “You think?”

“I know,” Zane replied, walking behind the bar. He grabbed a glass pitcher from one of the shelves lining the mirrored wall and then headed toward The Room. He glanced over his shoulder as he yanked open the steel door. “So what is her name?”

“Don’t kn-n-n—” Sammy’s tongue tangled as a blood-scented breeze slapped him in the face. He inhaled deeply, his eyelids fluttering and then shutting. He felt a tingling and then a pricking sensation in his gums, but it was mild compared to the burning, slicing pain in his stomach.

“You will need to control those.”

Sammy’s eyes snapped open. They darted from Zane’s face to the glass pitcher in front of him filled to the rim with blood. “Control—” A spray of saliva burst from his mouth. He licked the spittle off his lips. “—what?”

“Your fangs, and to do that, you must not allow yourself to get too thirsty.” Zane placed two shot glasses on the counter, began filling them. “The last thing you want is to be talking to this girl and bam, she gets a clear view of those pointy things.” He cocked a brow. “She may have a problem continuing to be your friend after that.”

Before Zane had finished filling the second glass Sammy grabbed the first. He gulped back the mouthful of blood. Slammed the empty glass down on the counter. Picked it back up. Swiped his tongue around the inside until not a single speck of red was left on the glass and then frowned as he put it down again. “Can’t we use a bigger one?”

“Control, Samuel. Your body is going to be a very demanding thing now that it has been reacquainted with—”

“Can’t you talk and pour at the same time?”

Zane’s head fell back as what sounded like a genuinely amused laugh burst from his mouth. After he’d sobered, he refilled the glasses. “So eager...I do like that, Samuel.”

That I’m a monster now, too?

With less effort than ever before, Sammy pushed the thought out of his mind as he reached for his second shot. He brought it up to his lips, then paused. “Control,” he murmured, meeting Zane’s expectant gaze. Feeling on the verge of bawling, he put down the glass.

“Um, yeah, okay, so...” Sammy searched his brain for a topic of conversation that would be interesting enough to distract him from the mouth-watering scent swirling around his head and up his nostrils, and found one instantly. “I don’t think she’s a big people person.”

Zane arched one brow. “And you are speaking of...?”

“The new girl. I don’t know her name. I tried to talk to her and—”

Get your freaky, albino-looking ass away from me. Now.

“—that didn’t go so well.”

“If at first you do not succeed...” 

“Give up?”

“Not an option,” Zane responded, his gaze scolding. “Never an option.”

Maybe not for you, Sammy thought as Zane gulped back his shot of blood. His brother released a sharp breath, his forehead creasing as a far away look glazed his ice blue eyes. “Why her?”

“Why her, what?”

“What was it about the girl that drew you to her?”

Sammy snorted. “She was new and didn’t know me.”

“And that is it?”

Get your freaky, albino-looking ass away from me. Now.

Sammy sighed. “I’d hoped she wouldn’t be like everyone else.”

“But she is?”

Sammy thought about it for a moment, and then shook his head when he remembered the regret and guilt he knew he’d seen in her eyes. “Nah. She was in a bad mood, that’s all. You know, first day at a new school with a bunch of strangers. That kind of stuff.”

Zane filled Sammy’s glass, pushed it toward him. “You do not sound convinced.” 

That’s because it’s all probably wishful thinking on my part, he thought as he took his shot. “I just, I don’t know, kinda sensed something different about her.”

“Perhaps her blood? The scent of it is unlike all the others?”

Sammy shook his head. “That’s the same as everyone else.”

Zane cleared his throat. Took a shot of blood. Raked one hand through his hair and then dragged the other down his face. Poured and then took another shot.

An uneasy laugh slipped from Sammy’s mouth. “Something wrong?”

Zane gave him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I was thinking you are right,” he said, turning at the waist to grab two high ball glasses off the shelf. “We need something much bigger.”

He filled their glasses and then raised his. “A toast to the new and improved Samuel Nikolas,” he said, and then arched a brow. “Who, I have no doubt, will soon have his very own plaything.”

With a tight-lipped grin, Sammy clinked his glass against his brother’s, knowing it was pointless to tell Zane that he wanted a friend, not someone he could nibble on during sex.

After Zane finished his drink he came around the bar to stand beside Sammy. “Well, brother, I have truly enjoyed my time with you.”

“You’re leaving?” Sammy said, surprised that he felt any—let alone as much—disappointment. “But the day’s just started!”

Zane pointed up at something on his right. Sammy’s mouth dropped open when his gaze landed on the clock behind the bar. It was almost five.

“How...?”

With a light chuckle, Zane clapped Sammy on his back. “Time flies when you are having fun, does it not?”

Sammy hated to admit it, but he had been enjoying himself. And now it was over. He slumped in his chair with a heavy sigh.

“You are welcome to join me,” Zane offered with a sly grin. “Margo is open to threesomes.”

Sammy wrinkled his nose as he reared back. “Uh, yeah—how about no?”

“Yes, that might be a tad awkward.” Zane cocked a brow. “Not sure exactly how I would feel—figuratively speaking, of course—if you accidentally touched my balls or something.”

Sammy quickly averted his gaze as Zane’s words formed a disturbing image in his mind.  He waved his hand. “Uh, yeah, okay, bye now.”

With a hearty laugh, Zane headed toward the stairs. Sammy’s eyes followed him all the way up, making three full sweeps before his brother disappeared from view. Clearing his throat, he decided that another workout was in order.

Lacey wiped her sweaty face on the hem of her white tank top, which she then used to fan herself. The movement created a cool breeze that caressed her damp skin and gave her chills. She shivered as her tingling nipples puckered.

Her thoughts drifted back to her dream. The ache at her core when she’d woken up from it. What she had wanted to do. Who she had imagined doing it. None of it made sense—she wasn’t even remotely attracted to the man. And besides, he was a jerk.

When various scenarios of Heather and Romeo began flashing through her mind, Lacey gave her cheeks a hard slap and told herself to snap out of it—whatever
it
was. She’d been plagued by similar thoughts the whole two hours she’d been cleaning.

Deciding that hunger and exhaustion was the culprit for the lunacy she was currently experiencing, Lacey was about to relinquish to another meal of chicken flavored Ramen noodles before calling it a day when the front door opened and her father entered. She blinked in surprise—he hardly ever stopped by the house after work, opting to go into detective mode immediately following his shift at the poultry plant.

Lacey was about to ask him what he was doing there when she noticed the Walmart bag dangling from one large hand. “Whatcha got?”

“Dinner,” he said, holding it out to her. 

Snatching it out of his hand, Lacey yanked open the bag and then squealed when she saw what was inside: a whole, prepackaged chicken, a package of Garlic & Herb seasoning, and a box of Velveeta Shells & Cheese—her absolute favorite. 

Clint chuckled as Lacey threw her arms around his neck and planted a wet kiss on his cheek before racing over to the bottom cabinet next to the stove. “Give me one hour, Daddy, and we will have the best dinner ever!”

“Oh kiddo, I can’t stay.”

Lacey froze with her hands on a glass casserole dish. “What? Why not?”

“Have to finish up Strasburg this evening,” he said, pulling off his white T-shirt and then tossing it over his shoulder.

Lacey felt a twinge in her heart at the sight of his upper body. After Amelia left he’d stopped eating and lost so much weight in the first couple weeks that Lacey had thought he was dying from cancer or something. Now, instead of the rock-hard muscles he used to have, he was little more than bones with loose skin draped over them.

“Just came home for a quick shower because I smell like what’s in that bag.”

“Okay,” Lacey said as he kicked off his shoes, “well, the mac ‘n cheese should be ready by the time you get out so we can just have that then.”

“I’m running late as it is, kiddo,” Clint said, removing his belt and then tossing it over his shoulder. “And I have to stop at the copy shop to make more fliers and then fill up at the gas station before I even get started.”

“Please, just spend one hour with me,” she said as he bent to pick up his shoes. “I haven’t seen you for years it seems.”

Lacey saw Clint’s head shake and then his lips move, but she couldn’t hear what was coming out of his mouth over the pounding of her pulse in her ears. She was vaguely aware of her arms moving, slowly lifting higher and higher, and then she was falling up the stairs, a fresh throbbing ache in her knees to go with the stinging sensation on the bottom of her left foot.

Lacey stumbled into her room, slammed the door, and then slid down it. Casper sprinted over to where she sat on the floor with her legs pulled up to her chest. “Sixty minutes,” she said to the mewing kitten as it rubbed up against her arm. “That’s all I wanted.”

Lacey swallowed hard, feeling like she had a baseball with nails protruding from it stuck in her throat. Her sinuses began to sting a moment before her vision blurred.
Don’t you dare cry. He’s not worth it.

Blinking back tears that burned like acid, Lacey looked down at the bright red spot the size of a quarter on the bottom of her white sock. “I broke our only casserole dish,” she muttered as she removed the sock. She wiped off the blood with it, then ran her finger over the small cut. No glass, at least none that she could feel. 

Gonna have to bleach that, she thought as she put the sock back on her stinging foot.

Resting her head against the door, Lacey listened to the sound of her father’s footsteps as he dashed from the bathroom to his bedroom and then down the hallway and stairs. When the front door slammed shut her heart ended its free fall with a nauseating plop into the pit of her stomach.

He didn’t even check on her to see if she was okay.

Raking a hand through his hair, Zane shot out of the leopard print chair in the corner of the pitch-black bedroom. His loud, deep breaths broke the silence as he stormed down the hall and into the kitchen, snatching the bouquet of wildflowers from the vase in the center of the dining table as he rushed by. He jerked open the sliding glass door, stepped out onto the large deck attached to the back of the split-level ranch Margo shared with her identical twin, Marla.

“There is no other explanation,” he murmured, gazing up at the starless sky.

Samuel, whose body had sustained years of continual damage, could smell the mystery girl’s blood, proving that was not the reason Zane was unable to.

Which meant Blodbad had lied.

Zane ripped the head off of one daisy, crushing it in his hand before he flung the ruined flower over the railing. The past six hours spent searching for a reason why Blodbad would withhold the truth from him had been in vain. He could not come up with anything that made fucking sense.

Taking a deep breath as he leaned against the railing, Zane released the air in a short, loud burst when he heard the door slide open. A throaty moan accompanied the sound of bare feet slapping against the wood.

“Mmm, you look super friggin’ hot standing there with your junk all hanging out in the moonlight and shit.”

“Eloquent as always, Margo.”

“Hey, I’m Marla!”

“Good, I like her better.”

“Me, too.”

With a shake of his head, Zane turned around. The pair gave the term ‘sisterly love’ a whole new meaning, but since it worked out well for him on the nights both were scheduled off from riding the poles at The Pogo Stix strip club, he could not care less what kind of twisted shit they were into.

“On all fours,” he ordered, pointing to the wicker chaise lounge.

Margo was quick to obey. Once she was in position Zane dropped to his knees behind her. He gave her bony ass a hard slap before ramming three fingers deep inside her soaking wet cunt. “Fuck yes!”

Her head snapped back, then fell forward. Her back arched down, then up. Over and over again as he plunged in and out of her with a fast, hard, twisting, turning motion.

“Oh fuck don’t sto—!”

Margo gasped and then ceased breathing and moving as she climaxed. Zane sunk his fangs into her ass cheek. Her sharp inhale of breath became a piercing scream that would’ve made the neighbors dial 911 if there had been any.

Zane managed two long pulls of blood before Margo’s arms gave out and her upper body dropped. “Fuck,” she panted, the word muffled due to her face being buried in the thick beige cushion of the chaise lounge. She turned her head, took a shallow breath. “Jesus fuck.”

Zane pulled his fingers out of Margo’s body, wiped them on the back of her thigh and then stood up. He was about to lick his lips when a sudden thought halted his tongue’s search for traces of blood on his mouth.
If I cannot smell the girl’s blood, will I also not be able to taste it?

Grunting, Margo rolled on to her back. “I swear you’re going to kill me.”

“Strong possibility,” Zane murmured.

One corner of Margo’s mouth lifted as she raked her eyes over his nude body. “Helluva way to go, though.”