Page 96 of Nightshades

A week later

I’m in Lula’s garage, finally building my bike from Greta’s bones.

I mount her skull where the headlight will shine through. My very first victim that led me to Lula. Such fond memories.

Her ribcage wraps around the gas tank, certain bones for the brake handles, and a few frame the seat. Truly, I’m proud of myself. It’s remarkable work.

I grin when I smell my mate entering the garage. She never has to say anything when she enters a room. I always know. “Little Dream, what are you doing here?”

“Updating you. They finally found who killed Harold. Two bodies were found in a van in a nearby alley. Would you know anything about that?”

“I killed them and came straight home to you. Their fear didn’t taste nearly as good as yours. No one’s ever does.” I crack my neck, knowing I’ll need to feed again soon, more than what Lula can give me without the baby sinking his teeth into her womb.

He doesn’t like it when she’s afraid.

Fucking brat.

“I know,” she snickers. “I was just wanting to tease you a little. You know, I never did ask why you killed the taxidermist.”

“No, good reason. He was in my way of getting something I wanted,” I answer honestly.

I sniff the air, growling when I smell an unwanted person on this property. Using my speed, I grab Lula and shove her behind me, protecting her as the monsters like me that I’ve seen around town fill the doorway.

Growling as low and as threatening as I can, the nightmare within me spreads out, the roots traveling across the ground.

“Wait! Shade, stop! They are friends. It’s okay.” Lula rubs my back, urging me to calm down, but I remain in my stance.

“Sorry to interrupt, but we got curious as to who Lula was mated to, and it worked out because the Hell’s Harvesters are here and they are looking for you,” a beast that looks like a funny version of a crocodile speaks.

There’s a guy next to him who has his wings spread out and smoke billowing from his nose, wanting to fight.

“Okay, this isn’t a monster pissing contest. Put your beasts away,” the crocodile guy says, as if he is in charge.

“Get the fuck off my property. I’ve marked it. My mate is claimed. You have no business here,” I snarl. “And I don’t give a fuck about the Hell’s Harvesters. They can get fucked too.”

“Shade,” Lula scolds quietly. “Be nice. These are people who are just like us. They are experiments. They have mates and families. It would be good for us to stick together.”

Looking into Lula’s eyes always weakens me. My heart beats to keep her happy, so if that is what she wants, that is what she will have.

“Nice bike,” a human with a backwards cap praises. “You made that? I’m Fitz. You’re talented. We could use someone like you at the garage.”

“No, thanks. I’m good here.” I try to go back to work on my bike when Lula steps in front of it, her hands on her hips, her sassy Spanish tongue is about to speak a million miles a minute.

All that is going to do is have me fuck her right here in front of them, so she knows she’s mine.

I cross my arms. “Why would I work there? Have you seen me? I don’t blend in.”

“Okay, let’s start over,” Croc-man says with a clap of his hands. “I’m Rhett. I’m patient zero.”

My eyes widen. “Sorry to hear that.” I meant it. I remember those fucking procedures. They were torture, and I can’t imagine how it felt being the first.

“I’m a crocodile, gargoyle, vampire, ghost, and jellyfish. My mate is Mickey, a human, but she’s at home right now with our twins.”

“I’m Fitz. My mate is very pregnant and on bedrest, or she would have come. She is part harpy, succubus”—he blushes—“squid, chameleon, and siren.”

“Oh, you’re fucked,” I blurt.

Fitz laughs, nodding in agreement. “I like it that way.”