Cotton winks at me, I raise my bottle in acknowledgement. I shake my head, smiling at the fucker.
“Have you seen her?”
His question has my head spinning in his direction. Glaring at the man who gave me a chance, right now I want to rip his throat out.
Arching a brow at me, he waits for me to answer. Winger is a great president; I know he will not let it go. He likes his men happy, so they can work for the club to the best of their ability.
Shaking my head, he sighs.
“Brother, you are throwing yourself into some dangerous runs for the club. You have always had this reckless streak, but lately it has gotten worse. Do you want to die or something?”
“Vampire, remember? I cannot die,” I retort.
“Oh, but you can, Thorin.”
“I am fulfilling my duty in the club; being the Enforcer, I get to do the most dangerous job.”
“At what cost? Thorin, you are turning club girls away; you are not fucking or feeding. That in itself is a sign that something has changed in you. Since Delaney left, you have not been yourself. Go and see her.”
“She has moved on.” As I say the words, I know that I hate them; they taste like ash in my mouth.
My mate is not dating anyone; I know that for a fact. I may have been keeping watch on her since a few nights ago, when I was informed that an incubus tried to lure her out of the club where she works. Now that fucker is dead and buried in a grave, along with some old man who died of a heart attack and his family gave him a wooden cross to mark his grave.
I knew that no one would go looking there for the fucker who touched my woman. He arrived alone, checked into a motel on the edge of Salem and kept to himself. His plan was to prowl ourtown and take women for his own pleasure, from what we found on his phone.
“You are way too fucking old to be pulling this shit, brother. Aren’t you lonely?”
Before I can answer, his eyes go white, and he freezes.
“A vision,” I call out.
Camo and the men gather around, waiting for Pres to come out of his vision and tell us what we have to do. Good, the need to kill and maim fuels my need for some blood therapy.
Winger’s head snaps down, then he blinks and breathes in deeply. His gaze connects with mine, and I know it is bad from the look he is giving me.
“Fuck. Maybe you want to sit this one out.”
“Nah, brother. Not fucking happening. I am going.”
“Shit.” He looks to Camo and Rush. “You stick to him like fucking BBQ sauce on ribs. Do not let him out of your sight.”
They both nod, and we rush from the room, climbing on our bikes and firing up the engines. The roar of our bikes fills the air, and the sound vibrates through me, making my balls ache and my cock hard.
“Do not do anything stupid,” Camo calls as we start to pull off behind Pres.
I flip him off, and he shakes his head, but I push it away, riding toward some fucks who are about to bleed and die at my hands.
We have no fucking clue where we are going, but we will follow Pres to purgatory if we have to. He will lead us in the right direction.
He turns down a small road that leads into the part of the cemetery where we know that some kids hang out. I sniff the air, my spine turning to steel when I smell vampires inside of the building.
I pull my bike up alongside Camo, and all of the brothers are looking toward the building.
“Vampires are in there. I smell two human men and something lingering.” I sniff the air again, trying to figure out what the scent is.
Then a hint of anise hits me. “Furies,” I growl.
I fucking hate Furies. They torment men, helping women to kill or hurt men who have wronged them. According to legend, there were always three Furies in Greek mythology. They were the sisters and goddesses of vengeance: Alecto (anger), Megaera (jealousy), and Tisiphone (murder).
