Page 37 of Nightshades

He’s wet his pants.

Coward.

I frown, wiping this stranger’s spit off my cheek. “The only person allowed to spit on me is my—fucking—mate,” I sneer, gripping the barrel of the shotgun and bending it backwards.

The barrel is in his face.

His fear is palpable, cloaking me like a cold night promising a warm meal.

He’s delicious.

We lock eyes, and the moment my vampire influence grabs onto his mind, his entire body relaxes, his eyes hood with drowsiness, and a hint of a smile stretches across his lips.

“Pull the trigger.”

“Okay.”

His index finger moves, and in the next second, a loud bang reverberates off the walls. My new friend’s head is gone, splattered across the floors, walls, and ceiling. His body is still standing somehow, and with one finger, I poke his chest.

“Timber,” I sing, watching as his body thuds against the ground.

Stepping on him, blood squirts from his neck. I step into a puddle of it on the floor, following the scent of terror from the last two heartbeats I hear in the house.

“Might as well come out,” I urge. “I promise to make your death quick.” It’s a little lie, but they don’t need to know that.

I curl my fingers on the edge of the wall, the long claws tapping as they make contact with a hard surface. They aren’t in the room. Their heartbeats are faint and coming from upstairs. Their pulses are so fast, adrenaline binds with their blood to pump it harder and faster in their veins.

Footsteps from up above have me look up at the ceiling. They think they are being quiet. Every step they take creates a small creak on the floor as they try to find a safe place to hide.

Don’t they know?

They can never hide from me. I will always find them, hear them, and smell them. I’ll give them a little hope just so I can feel the excitement of when I take it away.

I step on the headless body, my boots squelch on the ground from the blood as I walk to the staircase.

“Is anyone home?” I chuckle to myself, climbing the first step, then slam my claws into the wall again. With every step I take, I engrain grooves in the walls so this house is cursed by my presence. “I have a joke for you.” The staircase groans, threatening to give under my massive weight. “Knock. Knock.” I pound on the wall with my fist.

I wait for someone to answer, even though I know they won’t.

“Who’s thereeeee?” The nightmare asks, dragging his breath across every word.

“Your worst dream.” The grind of my claws is the only sound in the quiet space.

“Your worst dream, who?” Nightmare hisses.

I stop at the top of the stairs, skimming my gaze down the darkened hallway. Left, then right.

“Me.” I slam my fist into the family photo hanging on the wall. The glass shatters, but the sharp pieces don’t penetrate the thick rhino skin.

Roots stretch from me, swimming on the ground, overtaking the ceiling, the floors, and walls. They creep further down the hallway, looking for someone to render motionless.

“La-lala-la-la-laaa.”

I stop mid-step, listening to the loud pounding of their frightened hearts. I’m getting closer.

Actually.

I turn my head left, staring at the wall covered in roots, pressing my ear against the impatient plant.