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Chapter eleven
‘Survivor’ Pop Evil
JAZ MONROE
Knox and I take our trays to the far end of the closest table and plonk ourselves down. I swear, I just woke up from a sex induced coma but I’m more tired than I’ve felt in a while. Either it’s the mate bond working its magic through me, or all of the shit I’ve been through the past forty-eight hours.
“Is your sister going to join us or does she have to monitor the lunch line?” I ask as I drown a piece of bread roll in mashed potatoes and gravy before shoveling it in my mouth. Damn this is good stuff. We had really delicious food at Raider Pack but since being on the run, food hasn’t tasted as good. Must be a shifter thing, making grand food that’s incomparable.
“Yeah,” Knox says as he curls his lip at my piggish way of eating, “she’s just going to find someone to fill her spot. Do you always eat like it’s your last meal on death row?”
“I never understood that. Why ask for a giant steak or anything at all, when you know damn well your stomach is in complete knots? I’d ask for a strong drink or something.”
“Does it really matter what you put in your stomach, especially if you’re going to die? Personally, I’d go out with my eyes on every person watching.”
Okay, that’s not creepy at all, but considering his crazy eyes, I’m sure he’d give them nightmares the rest of their lives.
“What if you were in the wrong, like completely?” I ask as I crack open the can of Dr. Pepper, “Would it be fair for you to send your stink eye to everyone?”
“If I do anything to get sentenced to death it will be for my sister and this club, two of the things I’d be honored to die for. So yes, it’s fair in my books. But unless they’re injecting Hellfire into my veins, nothing will kill me anyway.”
Holy smokes! Only Hellfire can kill him?
“Wait, does that—”
“Hey guys, whatcha talking about?” Knix says as she slides onto the bench next to Knox.
“Jaz here has a weird obsession with what she’d order for her last meal if she were on death row.” I narrow my eyes at the jerk wad. He makes me sound morbid or some shit. Though I have to admit, the topic is pretty out there.
“Easy, a strong drink.” Knix says with a shrug while I give a smug look to Knox.
Then I remember the bomb Knox just dropped, “Wait, wait, wait, are you guys…Blood Crows?”I’ve heard a lot about the Vampires, but I’ve never actually met one before.
“Yep,” Knox says as he scoops up a piece of chocolate cake. Gah, and he says I eat like it’s my last meal. Dude eats like he has a fetish for the sugary concoction.
“Not technically,” Knix says rolling her eyes at her brother, “We’re mix. Vampire and Werewolf. Since our father’s genetics were the dominant of our makeup, we go byLupi Sanguis.” She sniffs like she expects me to put her down for it or something.
People, no matter the species, suck sometimes. The need to put someone down for something is a constant. An unfortunate trait to being alive.
“Hey, I’m all for it. Mixing two parts of yourselves into your lineage name is a lot more clever than simple oldWerewolf. I mean, how boring is that?” Knix smiles brightly, her web piercing peeking out from under her top lip, “But I have to ask, what made you two join the Cutthroats? Why leave your family?”
Honestly, it’s something I’ve been wanting to ask almost everyone here. It seems like there’s a large mix of different species here. Not that there’s anything wrong with diversity, in fact, I find it refreshing as hell. It’s like growing up eating the same bland meal every day, then one day, someone adds in an array of different spices and suddenly it’s a whole new dish. I certainly wish Raider Pack was diverse but old blood leads to the same old routine.
“Our mother went missing when we were just kids, so our father raised us,” Knix starts out but when her eyes get a faraway look, Knox finishes for her, “until he died when he challenged the Alpha of our pack.”
My food is forgotten as I push it aside and grip Knix and Knox by their forearms, “That’s a shitty ass story, my friends. Life is cruel.” I’d say I’m sorry, but platitudes can feel empty when the emotion is tied to something so tragic.
“It is what it is,” They both say in creepy unison that makes me smile.
“Anyway,” Knix says when I move back and continue to eat my food, “We came to the MC because, in case you haven’t noticed, the Alpha brothers take in the nomads and castaways. We knew we’d be accepted despite our parentage.”
Damn, that makes me despise Roman a little less. Okay, so maybedespiseis a bit too strong a word, still, knowing he doesn’t judge a person based on something so trivial as their species, makes me respect him. I feel my wolf rumble in agreement.
“What about you, ol’ lady?” Knox asks like an asshole, but I ignore it.For now.
“I did something I can never be forgiven for in my old pack, so I ran until Roman, and his brothers caught me slashing their tires.” I hear them gasp but avoid eye contact, so they don’t see there’s more to my story. It wouldn’t be fair to tell them the whole story without telling my mate and Alpha first. No matter how much he pisses me off, Roman has yet to do anything to warrant my aggression. Yeah, he’s stubborn and annoyingly dominant but that’s the way Alphas are. It’s a good thing I like his pretty face...smokin’ bod and very gifted cock.
I squirm in my seat, thinking about beached whales, which normally break my heart and totally ruin any floozy thought in my head. Damn, I hope these two Blood Wolves can’t smell my arousal at thoughts of Roman and his…No! Beached whales, dolphins, orcas…
