Elle Jasper - Eventide

“Where’re you going?” Seth calls after me.

I don’t look at him. “I need to work out,” I say, step into my room, and shut the door.

Minutes later, I hear the apartment door open and close. Finally, alone.

Nervous energy simmers under my skin, and for a split second I feel as though I’m on fire. I claw and peel out of all my clothes except my bra and panties. Without bothering with a warm-up, I start kicking the bag suspended from the corner ceiling of my bedroom. I kick. I punch the bag, and I don’t know how long I go at it, but it’s a while. I don’t even break a sweat. The exertion only helps a little. My thoughts are running ninety to nothing, my brain suddenly unable to filter out the constant rumbling of human noises outside the apartment. My head begins to throb. Mercilessly. Voices. Heartbeats. Crying. Traffic. The pain is so bad it sends shards of light shooting behind my eyelids. I gotta run. Gotta get out.

No, first watch this. Watch what you could be…

I jerk my head around and scan the room. I’m alone. The voice. It’s familiar. Frightening. I sit on the floor and cradle my head in my hands, and only then does the vision appear behind my eyes. It’s dark. I’m running away. No, I’m chasing. Someone. Wait, not chasing. Stalking. They’re unaware of me. I slip through the shadows silently, yet I run. I want to get closer. I can already smell their scent. Hear their heartbeat. Almost feel the rush of their blood through their veins. I’m on Savannah’s dark side, away from the tourists, away from the history, the moss, the charm. I’m where most people wouldn’t dare go alone. Up ahead, the figure turns the corner. I’m right behind them. The moment I turn the corner I’m coldcocked by a heavy fist, and I land square on my ass. Warm liquid spills over my lip and onto my chin.

“Damn, bitch,” he says. “What the fuck’s your problem? You a cop?”

I stare up at the guy in silence. I’m seething.

“Deke, man,” another guy says as he steps out of the building’s front door. “What’s up?”

“This bitch was followin’ me,” he says. “I think she’s a cop.”

The other one lets the screen door slam and walks over to me. He studies me for a moment. Looks at my ink. “Naw, man,” he says. “That bitch ain’t nothin’ but that. A bitch. She ain’t no cop.” He shoves me with his foot. “You ain’t no coppy, are ya, bitch?”

He lifts his foot to shove me again. It never touches me. I grab it, midair, and with very little effort, send him flying backward into the shadows beside the duplex. I’m so fast that the other guy doesn’t have time to react before I’m in the shadows with the first guy. In the darkness, I have his body pinned to the ground. I see only the whites of his eyes, the flare of fear in his nostrils. His mouth opens to shout for help, out of surprise, whatever. The words die on his tongue. Because he dies on my tongue.

My fangs sink deep into his throat. His body thrashes, then slows to erratic jerks as his nervous system detects failure.

“What the fuck!” his friend calls from behind me.

I leap upward, grab his shoulder, and swing onto his back, my legs wrapped around his waist, my arms tightening around his neck. His strength gives out and we tumble to the damp mossy ground. Before a single word escapes him, my fangs are buried in his heart. A deep, sadistic laugh reverberates off the trees and dingy buildings around me.

Just as fast as the vision appeared, it vanishes. I lose my breath for a second, and I choke. The sensation I’d had moments earlier seems so real. I blink, look around. I’m back in my room, in my apartment above Inksomnia. Why am I being tormented? Rising from the floor, I breathe. What was that? Was it real? I’m so confused, and the pounding inside my head returns. Quickly, I grab a pair of discarded jeans thrown across the back of a chair, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and boots and hurry out of my bedroom. I pass by Chaz, lying on his bed close to the hearth. He stares at me, lowers his head, and growls low in his throat.

I spare him the slightest of glares and leave the apartment. In seconds I am just another body slipping through the streets of Savannah.

The night air is chillier than it has been. I’ve been on the streets for hours, and I find myself in a half-packed parking lot of some random club. I don’t recognize it, but that’s nothing new. Clubs pop up all over Savannah, and they close just as fast. In some weird extraterrestrial font, the bar sign reads AREA 51.

The club is just a plain gray building with no windows, and from the smell of extreme marsh and brine hanging on the breeze, I guess it’s close to the river. The scent is nauseating today, and I choke back a gag. I feel like I’m chewing on mucky saw grass. I make my way to the front door. Just as I reach it, a couple steps out. Chick. Dude. I don’t see faces, features. Only silhouettes. I step inside.

Bodies. Heartbeats. Laughter. Some cosmic weird tunes echoing off the walls—almost like the sounds a supposed spaceship would make. Some dude pushes by me. His T-shirt says THEY ARE OUT THERE.

“Hey gorgeous,” some guy says beside me. “You look lost. Want a drink?”

I glance at him wordlessly.

The guy chuckles, and his eyes divert to the ink on my cheek. His gaze travels down to my hands, where only the tail of my dragon wraps around my fingers, then back to my face. “Sweet tats.” He glances at my shirt. “So what does Inksomnia mean?”

I lean in close, and his nostrils flare with male hormones. “It means fuck off,” I say sweetly, blink, and move back. My gaze locks on to his. The thump of his fast-paced heart resonates inside my head. I can almost feel the blood rushing through his veins. My mouth waters. Maybe I shouldn’t rush him away.

“Hey Aaron, come on,” another guy says behind him, grabbing his arm. “We’re late, man.” The guy flashes me a shy smile. I think I scare him.

Aaron is transfixed. He can’t move and his stare is locked on to mine in fascination. I lick my lips, and I watch his pupils dilate. Goddamn. I don’t even have to say anything. Ole Aaron is ready to screw my brains out right here and now. It wouldn’t take much, and this game is just too…invigorating. Powerful. I haven’t even been in the club for fifteen friggin’ minutes.

“Aaron, man,” his friend urges, avoiding my glare. “Come on.”

I lean in very close to Aaron, and my lips brush the shell of his ear. “Your loss,” I whisper.

Aaron’s eyes widen as his friend pulls him through the crowd and away from me.

My eyes immediately scan the crowd. Searching. Seeking…something.

“Is that what you’re into?” a voice says close to me. “Geeks?”

I turn and look up. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Lean build. Sluggish heartbeat.

“Maybe,” I answer, and lean closer. “I’m into a lot of things.”

The stranger’s pupils dilate, just a fraction.

Just then, a siren goes off overhead, followed by an announcement over a loudspeaker. When I search the room, I notice some guy wearing a THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE T-shirt and a big goofy-ass grin standing at the mic. “We’ve had another sighting! This one near Mobile, Alabama, and more than twelve people saw the lights!”

A huge roar went through the crowd as they cheer. I can’t help but glance around at the people packed into the club.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I mutter.

A large hand skims my hip. “You wanna leave?” the guy says against my ear. “With me?”

I brush his stomach with my fingertips. Not an ounce of fat. Nothing but rigid muscle. “Hell, yeah,” I say in a low voice. “And don’t make me beg.”