Earth Roars Kara Jaynes (black authors fiction .TXT) 📖

“Yeah.” I take another swig. “Gross.”

Still, I’m feeling substantially more awake by the time we get back to the base.

“Well, I have some duties I must attend to,” Sol says. “Thanks for the date.”

“I’d hardly call that a date,” I say.

“Really?” Sol smiles at me over his shoulder. “I got to drink morning coffee with a beautiful woman and talk about stuff. Felt like a date to me.”

Then he’s gone, leaving me with half a cup of coffee and a fluttering stomach.

27

Wilder

It’s a good thing I left Lyra when I did. I’m not sure I could have held back much longer.

The thirst always beckons, relentless in its growing intensity.

I still remember Lyra’s smell, her blood pulsing in her veins, protected by a fragile shell of a body. I could have killed her so easily.

But no. Lyra isn’t evil. She’s headstrong and sometimes a pain to hang out with, but she means well.

Usually.

The man I attacked ceased struggling a while ago. I’ve all but drunk him dry. Another kill.

The blood is everything. And it’s never enough. I would probably die trying to sate myself.

When there is nothing left to drink, I rise, using my shirtsleeve to wipe the blood off my mouth.

It’s getting easier. I don’t feel the same guilt and shame that I used to. After all, most of the humans I hunt deserve what they get. And I never leave them alive to endure the fate that I’m forced to face. I give them that mercy, at least.

I tell myself it’s a mercy.

This man wasn’t a gang member, but he was a thief. I used to see him skulking around the Liberty market, and his fingers were almost quicker than the eye. He’d rob passersby blind and take off, disappearing in the flowing crowd within moments.

Tonight, he tried to rob me.

“You thieved your last,” I say down to the corpse. Don’t look at his face. Don’t look at his eyes. “You should have taken up more honest work.”

Doing my best not to think of the hypocrisy in my words, I turn to leave, and pause, my gaze narrowing in on a figure standing at the mouth of the alley, several yards away.

She’s a vampire. I catch her scent, an exotic blend of spices and rose. I’ve never seen her before, I’m sure. I don’t think anyone could forget a figure like that.

“You’re Wilder.” The woman’s voice is low and sultry. Her pale form is a perfect blend of slimness and jaw-dropping curves. She’s clad in a form-fitting scarlet dress with a long slit up one side. She walks forward, her heels clicking on the cracked pavement. She’s certainly not dressed like a woman of Liberty. Her outfit is far too bold for the open streets.

“I might be,” I say evenly, watching her. I feel wary but not alarmed. Vampires are strong, but I have yet to meet my match.

She smiles slowly, her crimson eyes glittering in the dull light. There’s something about her that seems distinctly alien, but I’m not sure what it is that sets her apart from the other vampires I’ve run into.

“No, I’m certain of it,” she says. “You are Wilder, and I have need of you.”

I arch an eyebrow, taking her in again. “For . . .?”

She laughs, the sound almost melodic, but it carries a certain harshness. “I should back up,” she says. “I think I could help you.”

I don’t respond, merely watching her.

“So to the point,” she purrs. “I like that.” She tilts her head back, studying me. Her dark brown hair is cut short, tendrils curling around her pointed ears.

She steps closer, and I hold a hand out. “That’s close enough,” I say. “I’ve had enough experience with vampires to know I prefer them at a distance.”

“Oh, really?” she says, her voice laced with amusement. “But that was before you met me.” Her smirk grows, and she winks at me. “Most men would like me close. Very close.”

“I’m not like most men.” I grimace as soon as the words are out. That sounds wrong. “What I mean, is—”

“I know what you mean,” she interrupts with a laugh. “You prefer your woman more docile than I am.” She taps her chin with a finger, her tone almost pensive. “I could make you change your mind, but I have more pressing matters at hand than getting myself yet another man.”

“Why are you here?” I ask. I inspect my nails, a nervous habit. Dried blood is crusted under my fingernails.

“I am here to help you,” the woman says. “You want something from the gangsters. I can get it for you. Revenge, star-blood, whatever it is you’re after.”

I smile wryly. “I don’t need your help.”

“Well, aren’t you a big boy,” she says, and there’s no mistaking the derision that now laces her amusement.

My eyes narrow as I take her stance in. She stands with her left hand on her hip, her head tilted as she regards me.

“This is a waste of time.” I turn to leave.

“You’re after Cliff, aren’t you?”

I pause.

“You want him that bad?”

Turning back toward her, I study her again. “Do you know where he is?”

“Of course,” she says, her tone almost lazy. “I make it my business to monitor my servants’ activities and whereabouts.”

My eyes widen, and a snarl tugs at my lips. “He works for you?”

“Only recently,” she says. “He’s no longer human, you understand.”

That would explain why he’s been difficult to track down.

“He’s been a useful slave,” she says, “but if you want to kill him that badly, I suppose I could turn him over to you.”

“That easy?” I muse. “How?”

“The ‘how’ isn’t really your concern, now, is it?”

“It might be,” I say. There is something extremely strange about this meeting. “For one thing, you haven’t told me what you expect in return. Vampires don’t do favors for free. And for another, I have no idea who you are or why I should trust you.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t trust me,” she laughs in her