She was drawn to a door about halfway down and the noise pulsing in her head was now almost as loud as a jet engine.
Taking a deep breath to calm the swarm of butterflies in her stomach, she slowly opened the door. The crushing noise in her ears muted the voices, but as soon as the door opened, all of the noises stopped. Just stopped. And ten sets of glowing eyes turned toward her.
Chapter 28
Xavier
“Bill, you’re not lookin’ so good ol’ buddy. In fact you’re looking downright peaked.”
A vamp on each arm was physically holding up Bill, as he watched Xavier tie his naked wife and daughters to the kitchen chairs.
“Please, please don’ hurt them, master. I gave you what you wanted! Please let them go and you can do anythin’ you want to me. They have nothin’ to do with this. Please!” Hot tears were streaming down Bill’s face.
“Now, Bill. If I were to let them go, that wouldn’t set a very good example for the other minions, would it? And I’m nothing if not a man of my word. I told you to get me the woman or you would watch me slaughter your lovely wife here, Camille, and your precious daughters, Becky and Ashley. You failed. I’m afraid this is the consequence for failure, human.” His wife and daughters were crying and screaming hysterically, pleading with Bill to help.
Bill sobbed and thrashed, trying to free himself to help his family.
“It’s not my fault. There was someone watchin’ her. I did everythin’ I could. I swear. And you have the woman and Thatcher’s addresses. You’ll be able to get them. Please let my family go!”
Xavier didn’t have to do this. He’d get the woman eventually. He didn’t have to do this, but he was a bastard of epic proportions and he wanted to. He’d been looking quite forward to it actually.
He never broke Bill’s gaze, grabbing his wife by the hair with one hand and a naked breast with the other, he ruthlessly twisted her nipple and jerked her head to the side, before slowly sinking his long fangs into her carotid and drinking deep. The human female screamed out for her husband to help her, sobbing and fighting in earnest. The daughters were screaming and blubbering. They were next. Young blood was the sweetest of all, especially with fear coursing through it.
Yes, he was going to enjoy every second of the long night ahead.
Chapter 29
Mike
Mike lay in the cheap motel room’s lumpy bed, eyes fixed on the water stained and crumbling popcorn-style ceiling overhead. He thought he’d have drunk enough to be in a coma by now, but nope…his fucking mind wouldn’t shut off. It never shut off. He had yet to figure out that little trick. And yet, each year on this day…he attempted just that.
He desperately wanted to forget. Forget the emptiness inside his shell of a body. Forget the heartache of a love lost. Forget the stabbing pain he felt when he thought about a future that would never be. Forget what he’d lost eleven years ago today. Eleven years? How was that possible? It seemed like just yesterday. He dreamed of her often, and while it was comforting, it was also pure hell.
This was his unique brand of torture. His mind wanted to forget; yet his heart couldn’t. It wanted to remember, but he couldn’t quite do that either. He couldn’t remember the exact cadence of her voice. He couldn’t remember the exact smell of her skin. Or the sound of her laughter. Or the last thing he said to her.
He was alive and she was dead. Presumed dead.
Mike took another healthy swig of the nearly empty bottle of Gentlemen Jack. Even the bottle was mocking him. He was no gentleman. He was alive, but he was dead inside. He poisoned his body with alcohol and cigarettes with disturbing regularity. He took untold and unnecessary risks in his job. He fucked women without discretion or emotion, all the while thinking of her. He had a dick after all and it needed to be used, or it would fall off. Or so Johnny, his best friend in middle school had told him.
He simply didn’t give a shit what happened to him. He was a walking dead man. He was solely consumed and overtaken with the need for revenge. Hell, he wasn’t much better than most vamps he knew. He’d find the one responsible one day. One day soon. He could feel the time was drawing near.
God, he missed her. A tear seeped out of his eye, rolling into his ear. Although intellectually he knew there was nothing he could have done to save her, the man in him thought he should have, and he’d played a sick game of what-ifs for the last eleven years.
What if he’d insisted she go out with him and instead of to that frat party? What if she weren’t drinking, would she have been able to better defend herself? What if he’d picked her up after the party and drove her back to her apartment, instead of letting her walk home? What if he’d stopped by after she was supposed to be home? They would have known she was missing earlier. What-ifs. His life was one big fucking wasted what-if.