Page 41 of Thirst
I leveled a stare at him. I wasn’t the scared, broken kid who’d had to bite his tongue—or else.
His mouth tightened. But he obeyed. No one ever said the man wasn’t smart. Mean as a junkyard dog, yeah—but smart.
He took a wide-legged stance on the worn blue rug, arms crossed over his caved-in chest, trying again to hold my stare—and failing. “What d’you want?”
I pursed my lips, pretending to think it over. “To make you sweat. To hurt you. Actually, I’ve been doing that for years.” I let the words settle, then added, almost lightly, “But I guess you finally figured out I’m the reason you lost the farm, and now the house, too.”
His face twitched, just enough to satisfy me.
“But then, you bought them with stolen money,” I went on. “My money. Money you took when I was too young to stop you.” I tsked and shook my head. “Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it, Wayne?”
“Why, you—” He lunged at me, hammer fists swinging.
For a moment, I was a kid again, facing that same raging bull. My breath jammed in my lungs, my heart pounding double time.
His fist shot toward my jaw. Feet planted, I instinctively tilted my head—too fast for a human to track—and his hand cut past my face with a whish. The other fist came for my temple. I evaded that, as well.
A frustrated growl tore out of him.
I snapped back to myself. I wasn’t that small, defenseless boy anymore. I was a fully grown vampire—stronger, faster, and more than able to stand my ground.
I pivoted on my heel, slicing a roundhouse kick through the air. It connected with his chin with a solid crunch. He dropped like a stone, hitting his head against the bedframe on the way down.
He lay there for a good ten seconds, breathing hard and staring up at me with murder in his eyes, while I waited to see if he was concussed. Not that I cared, but I didn’t have the patience to babysit him until he was well enough to talk.
“What the hell are you looking at?” he snapped.
“A dead man.” I flashed an it’s-payback-time smile. “You fucked up, asshole.”
He blinked a couple of times. Then he rolled laboriously onto his side and sat up, the bed at his back. “I don’t know what you?—”
I cut him off. “I’m doing the talking.”
He had the nerve to wave for me to continue like he had the power here.
My jaw clenched. I grabbed his hand mid-wave and broke his fucking index finger.
He let out a girly shriek. A downpayment on the pain he’d dealt me in the years between the time I was three and when I moved out at age sixteen.
He looked from his hand to me, outraged. “You’re fucked now, bloodsucker. There are rules. Laws. When the other islanders find out about this, you and your fancy-pants primus are toast.”
That startled a laugh from me. “Like you’re squeaky clean. But if you want to go there, sure.” I was happy to explain exactly why he was going to die. “Those rules only apply to humans who don’t fuck with us. And Wayne, we caught you trying to sell intel to another syndicate. That nullifies the agreement between the islanders and my syndicate, which means”—I brought my face close to his—“I. Can. Do. Anything. I. Fucking. Want.”
The color drained from his face except for two dull red spots on his cheekbones. He scrambled sideways along the bed on his ass, pushing himself with his feet and uninjured hand.
“Who told you that?” His eyes darted from side to side. “Because it’s a goddamned lie.”
I stalked the short distance between us and squatted next to him. “We hacked your cellphone, Uncle. You offered to help the QCS get to Brien. He’s our primus. Our alpha. And we like the man. Even if we hadn’t sworn an oath to follow and protect him, we’d be out for your blood.”
A pungent, fear-soaked sweat oozed from his pores. “I—you?—”
I spoke over him. “But you had a problem. The QCS didn’t believe you could deliver Brien, so you offered them someone else instead—me. For a million dollars, cash. Told them you’re my uncle so they’d know you were legit. I don’t know why you’d think I’d go even five yards with you, let alone off-island. But maybe you weren’t going to ask me. Maybe you had some stupid-assed idea of trying to kidnap me.”
“It’s not what you think.” He licked his lips. “I was stringing them along, okay? Waiting for them to set up a time and place, and then I was gonna come to you people.”
I closed my hand around his throat, not enough to injure, just enough to make the untruth catch in his windpipe. “Uh-uh, Wayne. We hate liars. Don’t we?” That was the one lesson he’d beat into me that I hadn’t thrown away.
“It’s the truth.” Face turning purple, he clawed at my wrist, panic edging his voice. “I swear.”
