Chapter 29

~~Natasha~~

She coughed. Talking wasn’t working too well. Lungs punctured, ribs cracked, and while her vitae was doing its best to heal her so she could talk, the thick liquid caught in her throat and on her tongue. Best she could do was nod when it said Kindred.

The beast stood back up, and turned to face its pack. Each put Goliath to shame, and she winced as she looked at the claws of the one who’d been ripping her apart.

Werewolves.

When she looked down at her body, she let out a quiet groan. So much of her insides were exposed. Dead. So dead. Couldn’t do anything to defend herself, couldn’t stand up, couldn’t run or fight or anything. It’d take hours to heal, and she’d need blood to complete the process; not like they were just going to give her some. Good as dead.

The chatty one turned to face its pack, and started talking. Harsh, loud words. Something about Kindred, but also kuruth, and other things she didn’t get. The titans, some around eight feet tall, some over ten feet, each wide and thick with muscle and mass, growled and snarled at the talking one, but they nodded. The werewolves ran the gamut of shades of gray, from black to light gray.

One of the werewolves, also a lighter color, didn’t seem so eager to listen to whatever the black one was saying. They stepped up, and shoved their shoulder. Her shoulder, now that Natasha looked closer. The animals did have humanoid features, and the woman had a hint of bosom and hip under their fur, where the males had broader shoulders. The third werewolf gestured to its friend, the one who’d suffered most of Natasha’s bullets, before she barked her frustration at Natasha. No language barrier to understand ‘fucking pissed’.

The black one didn’t reciprocate. She waited, folded her furry arms across her chest, tail wagging in a slow, stiff manner. Dogs. Fucking dogs. Fucking gigantic dogs. Pack leader structure, complete with barking and shows of dominance. The black one stepped in closer, stared her female pack mate in the eye, and waited. Dead silence, even among the monsters.

The other snorted, threw up her arms, and walked away. And as she did, she started to shrink. The fur fell away from her body, the muscles, the height, it dripped away into the blackness of the barely lit tunnel. A woman emerged, and so too did clothes, fading in where the fur faded out.

The others began to change as well. Men and women, clothes on each of them, including the man she’d sunk a host of bullets into. Their clothes were undamaged, inside their bodies while they were transformed? What the hell?

The black one became a woman as well, a short one, only a few inches taller than ant-sized Natasha.

“I am Avery,” she said.

Natasha squinted at her. Half to focus her blurry eyes, half to ignore the scorching sensations running along her skin. The woman was strong, fit, with a black ponytail down to her hip. Tanned skin, and unless Natasha was going crazy, she had silver eyes. Not extreme or obvious silver, but subtle, like a hue off of blue. Pretty.

“ ... I—” Blood, thick Kindred, heavy, sticky, caught in her throat again, and she forced it down. “ ... are ... you going ... t-t- ... t-t-to kill me?”

The werewolf shook her head. “No. You are not our prey.”

Natasha looked at herself, at the exposed bones, the ruined clothes, the tight muscle of a vampire’s pale body ripped open.

“ ... why ... d-d-did ... you d-d-d ... do this to me.”

She wanted to cry. God she wanted to cry. But she didn’t have the vitae to spare for the blush of life, so her dry eyes stared at the woman as best they could before rolling up when another scream started to bubble in her throat before she pushed it back down.

“Wrong place, wrong time. But you’re a vampire, right? You’ll heal.”

She coughed, and the agony swept through her again. But she was healing. The werewolves put her to shame for how quick they healed, but then, maybe they wouldn’t heal so quickly if someone had nearly cleaved off their limbs and stabbed a few dozen swords through their thorax. Closing the holes the enormous claws had created in her lungs, her chest and flesh, was a slow, agonizing process, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep back the whimpers.

“F-F-Fuck ... you...”

Avery laughed, and motioned to one of the men beside her. “Take her. She’ll live, but don’t give her any blood. I don’t want her up and moving again. Fucking fast little mosquito.”

Fast mosquito. Fuck her god damn fuck her. If she still had her pistol, she’d put a few bullets through the bitch’s head. Apt insult.

They took her out of the tunnels and back topside; under threat of having her head ripped off if she attracted attention though. And they’d do it, she was sure. Considering the mess she was in, holes in her body and flesh torn open, she wouldn’t be able to defend herself. If only she still had her sword. Or maybe a high-powered shotgun.

One of the men was carrying her in his arms, like a doll held across them horizontal. Comfortable enough she could focus on fixing her body, now that she wasn’t putting so much effort into running for her life. The sickening sensation of bones realigning before they pressed groove to groove made her groan, and every so often as the tendons started functioning again, she whimpered. But her wrist was working again. Now all she had to do was put a sword in that hand and maybe she could stab someone.

Dumb idea. The rest of her was still a mangled mess. The tips of her ribs were poking into her lungs and other withered organs. Her arms and legs were shredded like paper. The back of her skull was split. So she lay there in the man’s arms, and healed herself.

“How ... how d-d-did you catch me?” she said.

“Hmmm?”

“You ... you had ... someone ahead-d of me.”

He laughed, and nodded. “We hunt in packs, but we’re not mindless animals, Kindred. When we realized you had slipped into another tunnel, we sent our fastest man ahead, and we herded you toward them.”

Herded. Well, she could have taken a right instead of left when she got into the second tunnel. So fuck him, not as herded as he was acting.

“Just t-to catch me?”

“We thought you were something else.”

“ ... why?”

“You smelled odd.”

Smelled odd? She smelled faintly of blood and maybe a bit of flesh; Kindred didn’t go around smelling like corpses, or even smelling like kine.

She frowned at the man holding her. He was a tall man, with tanned skin and an athletic build. Course all the werewolves looked fit and strong, but this one looked fast, and agile. His hair came down to his jawline, black, wavy and messy. Clean shaven. Would have been kind of cute, if she wasn’t imagining putting a sword into his stupid face.

“I’m Arturo Ibarra,” he said.

Arturo. He had a touch of Spanish to his accent, and he looked like he could be from Mexico. Dark brown eyes too.

“ ... you’re the one that headed ... me off.”

“I am.”

Find a sword, or any sharp object. Stab him, stab him now. Anger was an effective pain suppressant.

Or it was for a few moments at least, but as her immediate rage subsided, and all she was left with was waiting as they walked toward the city outskirts, the pain returned. Her flesh was closing, but she was low on vitae and every moment awake was tiring. She needed sleep. She needed blood.

When she’d gotten out of this mess, she was going to ask Jessy for another night with the ghouls. And she was going to drink all four of them. One at first, to heal her wounds, and then a second to soothe her aches and pains. And then the other two, she’d drink after having a nice, long, very very very very very gentle bout of tender sex. Because after all this, she deserved some serious pampering.

Her mind wandered like always, fantasizing, and she knew it was too. But she needed a break from current circumstances.

Maybe she’d march into the Elysium tower, point a finger at Daniel and Antoinette, and throw a temper tantrum about how she nearly died because of them. No more running solo. No more deep dives into old tunnels inhabited by monsters. No more getting cut open.

Now she was just being an idiot. She remembered how the Prince looked, her damaged body when Damien had dragged her out of her underground fortress by her hair. Missing an arm and a leg, full of holes, bone exposed. Enough to kill most vampires through sheer damage overload. Natasha wasn’t even close to that.

But it was nice to dream fantasies of ranting at your bosses.

“How is our guest?”

A man’s voice. The newcomer fell in beside Arturo, and smiled down at her. This one was very tall, ridiculously tall, and with shoulders wide enough to have trouble with doorways. His hair was a soft brown, came down to his shoulder, beige skin, and his eyes were green. A bright green that made him look like a gentle giant.

“She’s fine, Matt. Healing, but after the shit we did to her, I’m guessing she needs blood.”

Natasha frowned at Arturo, but nodded. Let them think she was helpless without blood. She mostly was, but with a bit more time, she’d be strong enough to at least walk, and walk herself to safety. Unlikely, but possible.

“Blood eh? I’ve heard a vampire’s bite is quite pleasurable.” Matt leaned down over her. Closer, she could see the scruff of his face. He looked cute too, like a big teddy bear, that she could rip the fluffing out of.

“Going to let her bite you?” Arturo said, big smirk on his face.

“Maybe? Avery said it takes a lot more than that to turn you. And she’s a cute little thing, right?” Matt smiled at her, and leaned in a little closer. “Sorry. We’re being right asses, aren’t we?”

“ ... you are.” But a compliment was nice, every now and then.

“So, like Arturo said, I’m Matt. Matt Wilson. What’s your name?”

She raised a brow, and stared at the big, apparently dumb man.

“She’s not going to tell you her name dumbass.”

“She might.”

“Don’t be an idiot Lenny.”

Matt, or Lenny, frowned and elbowed Arturo’s side. Which made Arturo wince and shift, which made Natasha shift in his arms, which made her yelp at the sudden shift of his arms making her torn body bend.

“Shit! Sorry, sorry.” Matt backed away and fell in line a few steps behind, big pout on his face.

Lenny. Considering how comfortable they seemed with each other, Arturo was George. Natasha frowned, and twisted her neck a bit to look at the others.

Thirteen of them, of all genders and sizes. A few of them looked Mexican like Arturo, but some others looked like they came from northern America, some others from Europe maybe. All around the world? Most likely not. But at least the group seemed race inclusive.

Avery drifted closer, and smiled down at Natasha as she took Matt’s spot beside her.

“What’s your name?”

Natasha scowled. “You expect m-me to give you my name?”

“I do.”

“Why ... would I d-d-do that?”

“Why not?”

“Because ... I’m a p-prisoner, and any information I give you ... is more information to use ag-gainst me.”

Avery laughed and pat Arturo on the shoulder. “Sounds like something Daniel would say.”

“ ... you know Daniel?”

“I do. We didn’t part on the best of terms last time I was in Dolareido. Well, better than Jacob.” Avery reached behind her, adjusted her ponytail, and grinned down at Natasha. “If you don’t know who I am, that means you weren’t there at the time.”

“Why were you here in D-Dolareido last time?”

“Same as this time. Hunting things. Your stupid Prince has a habit of attracting the attention of things that shouldn’t be wandering around.”

Antoinette attracting bad things to Dolareido? Understandable, sort of, given Antoinette’s interest in the occult. But Natasha had never seen anything truly odd in Dolareido. What could Werewolves want?

“What ... are you going t-t-t-to do with me?”

“Tie you up till you give me some information. I need to know who’s doing what in Dolareido. I want to know what the Prince is up to, but I really want to know what Lucas and Viktor are up to. That fucker Tony too, what’s he up to?”

Natasha blinked at her, then at Arturo. “I ... give you information, and you’ll let me g-go?”

“Need a couple more things, but yes. We ain’t here for you kid, we’re here for bigger prey. Seems like you’ve got an infestation. Something happen here? Something upset the balance or something? Cracks in the seams are showing, and shit is worming its way through.”

Cracks in the seams? Didn’t sound like anything she knew about. She didn’t want to give them information, but god she wanted to get back to her home, to Jessy, to her sire and her boss. Get away from the big bad dogs.

“ ... let me think about it.”

“Sure, think. I understand vampires can get pretty prickly when they’re hungry. Think you’ll talk if I hold a juicy blood bag for you?” The woman talked like Jacob, snide and joking, playful and threatening, all at the same time.

Natasha frowned, grit her teeth, and looked away.

“Fine. Think about it kid. Get back to me when you’re willing to talk.” She shrugged, and moved ahead to lead their pack again.

“Really should just tell her what she wants to know,” Arturo said.

“She your ... your ... I d-don’t know what werewolves have, pack leader? Alpha?”

He nodded. “She’s a smart woman. You’d be happier if you listened to her.”

“B-B-Be happier if her pack didn’t nearly kill me.”

Arturo leaned down over her, closer, and grinned at her with his dark brown eyes. There was a bit of wolf in them, even in his human form, just an edge of animal along the iris. Looking at her like a hungry beast.

“You were a hard thing to catch.”

“ ... you w-w-were the one to get ahead of me.”

“I was. Both times. The first time, I was lagging far behind. You thought our straggler was the only one in back, and when you ran through to dark to me, I tried to grab you. Hit the wall.”

Right, both times it was this guy catching her unawares.

“Smart b-bastard,” she said.

“I am, aren’t I?”

Cocky too, with a smarmy grin and a handsome face. Perfect. No remorse for when she’d eventually stab him.

“So ... werewolves. You weren’t big b-brutes when I first saw you in the tunnel.”

“No, we were hunting in our Urshul form. We must have looked like large wolves to you.”

Multiple forms? Interesting. “What else can w-w-werewolves do?”

The bastard grinned down at her. “Prying me for information?”

“ ... a little.”

“Transform into humans as you can see, and wolves, and the Gauru form, well, you saw that at work by the train.”

She shivered, and groaned agony as the small vibration shifted mending muscle against itself. Hold still, heal, that’s all she needed to do. And maybe get a little information while she did.

“Your kind are ... scary.” Not exactly what she wanted to say, meant to say, but it came out anyway, and she sighed as she closed her eyes.

“My kind? Your kind scheme and manipulate for centuries. Your kind cultivate humans like sheep. Your kind are immortal.” Arturo growled, a very animal sound too, and when Natasha opened her eyes, she found his grin had faded. She’d truck a nerve. “Worst a werewolf ever did was kill when he was hungry. Fucking vampires? Kill thousands, millions, in your games.”

“Don’t mind him.” Matt came back up beside Arturo, and smiled down at her again. Like they were friends. Like anyone who was anyone would want to be friends. His nickname fit. “Avery likes to scare us sometimes with stories about vampires. Is it true you sleep during the day, and burn from sunlight?”

She stared at the big, dumb oaf. Shouldn’t like him, but she kind of did.

“Are you ... g-going to leave me ... for sunrise?”

“What? No, of course not.” Matt shook his head like it was the most horrible suggestion. “We’re all terribly sorry about what happened. And Avery will let you go, no worries, once you tell us what’s going on in the city, and we have an understanding.”

As if she was going to do that. Matt could be as nice as a puppy, it wouldn’t sway her. Nope, not one little bit.

The pack didn’t go very far from the tunnel exit. Half a mile at most, and they stopped at an old factory in North Side. The building was abandoned, but not condemned; someone was bound to buy it up for another ill-fated business venture at some point. Until then, it was just a big, empty building filled with big, empty tables. Old, dirty glass windows. Dead air vents with dust and cobwebs hanging off of them. Ugh, webs.

Arturo set her down on the table. She’d healed well enough to sit up, with less flesh cut open on her body. But her insides were hell, and the hunger was starting to make her dizzy. Starting to make her fidget and twitch. She needed blood, badly. All the signs of frenzy were showing on her fingers, in her toes, in her skull, and the moment she saw someone she could bite who couldn’t tear her in half, she’d jump them, whether she wanted to or not.

But with the wolves, even the beast in her gut wasn’t so mindless as to jump one of them. She wouldn’t survive the encounter. But, with time, the beast wouldn’t stay so smart. Eventually she’d be out of her mind with hunger, or she’d slip into torpor until someone fed her. Neither idea sounded promising.

“So, little vampire, ready to talk?” Avery stood before her pack, arms folded across her chest, small smile on her lips. She wasn’t much taller than Natasha in her human form, but she looked like she packed a mean punch. The silver-blue eyes looked more like ice the longer Natasha met them. The woman appeared to be in her forties, but she was a werewolf, so who knew how old she really was.

God she was hungry.

“ ... ask. I m-might ... b-b-be ab—”

“I think she might have trouble sp-p-p-p-p-peaking.” While everyone was sitting around and getting comfortable, one of the pack came up to her and grinned down at her. A woman, tall, curvy, rich sepia skin, with a sharp face and eyes that threatened to cut Natasha up like claws. Scary. And mean.

Arturo stepped up to her and yanked on her arm, pulling her back toward the pack by the wall.

“Shut up Stephanie. Don’t be such a bitch.”

Stephanie yanked her arm free, and stared up at Arturo. She was tall, he was taller.

“We got no reason to trust this little blood leech. You heard what happened last time, Avery told us herself.”

Arturo shrugged. “No reason to insult how she talks.”

Natasha raised a brow and looked between the two arguing like siblings. Avery seemed content to let it happen too, but her grin was gone, replaced with patient waiting. Maria or Michael would have given a tongue lashing worthy a thousand deaths if Natasha and Jessy argued like this in front of them. Viktor wouldn’t have said a thing, just demoted them instantly.

“Fuck off. We can’t trust her. She could easily lie.”

“Just as easily as she could tell the truth. We let her live, and—”

“Could still lie and—”

“And risk running into us after the fact? She—”

“We can trust her.” Everyone turned to the new voice. This one looked quite young, but big and strong. Short blond hair, blue eyes, a soft face, and a softer voice. He fidgeted a little, a fidget Natasha knew all too well, and shook his head. “At least, that ... yes, we can trust her. If she tells us something.”

Natasha frowned at the young man. His voice wavered a little; someone who had trouble speaking. But his eyes didn’t just avoid eye contact, they drifted like they were catching fireflies.

Avery turned to her pack and gestured to the young blond. “David says we can trust her. Good enough for me.” And again the pack leader turned to face the little Mekhet, cocky grin on her like Arturo had before. “You wouldn’t want to hurt David’s feelings, right?”

David. Natasha watched him for a little while longer, and squinted. His eyes really were drifting around, but so were his movements, subtle and hidden in his old baggy hoodie and jeans. Like the man couldn’t hold quite still. A condition, perhaps? She doubted human ailments troubled werewolves, but then what did she know about werewolves?

“ ... ask.”

“Wonderful.” Avery leaned her butt against the neighboring table. “Last time we were here, or I was here anyway, was 1955. Spent a couple years here, made some friends, some not-so-friends. So all I want to know is how the old gang is doing, before I make my presence known. How’s Viktor and Antoinette?”

Well, it’s not like she was asking for secrets, and the information was harmless. Probably. And maybe a little information would get her something to eat before she went insane.

“Viktor is d-dead.”

“ ... really?”

She nodded, and stroked her legs. Her suit was a tattered, ruined mess. Much of her skin was exposed, but at least she wasn’t torn open anymore. If she’d been in any worse condition, she’d probably be in torpor by now, and probably half naked for the damage to her clothes.

“Viktor and T-T-Tony ... dead, fighting, fire.”

“Well I’ll be damned. Two major pains in my asshole gone ... and Lucas?”

“ ... also d-dead. Tried to kill the Prince. D-Died ... trying.” No need to bring Jack into this.

Jack. Heh, what would he do if in this situation? Kid had a way with people.

“Lucas dead too. God damn. Maria and Michael?”

“Alive.”

“Ah well, can’t have em all. And I guess Jacob is still alive too? Apocalypse will come and go before that bastard dies.”

Avery knew Jacob. She knew of the others, but from the way she said his name, the tiny inflection of personal annoyance, she knew Jacob personally.

“He ... he is.”

“Damn. Old snake needs to die. But, three gone ain’t bad. And with them out of the way, maybe I can get to know Garry a bit better.” Laughing, the woman pulled herself to sit up on the table, and her short legs dangled off the edge. “He’s still alive right?”

Did she like him? Figures a werewolf would like a Gangrel. And she had a bit of an attitude to her, like Jessy, like Michael.

“He is.”

“Great. I’ll have to pay him a visit.”

Avery nodded, stroked her chin, and motioned for one of the pack to come closer. Another woman came over, tanned skin and dark hair, average height and a fit build. She had box braids for hair all the way down to her hip, and Natasha found herself admiring them. So pretty. Maybe related to Arturo, or from the same place.

“Yeah Avery?”

“Clara, keep an eye on things. I’m going to pay Garry a visit.”

“Alone? It’s almost sunrise too.”

“Yeah alone. He knows me, and I need to scout the place out anyway. I’ll be fine. Just want to double check on some facts and what our girl has told us.” With that, Avery gave Clara a casual salute, and walked for the door. “Keep her around, but give her something to eat would you? Don’t want to ruin any goodwill here.”

Arturo raised a hand with a dismissing wave. “She drinks blood.”

“So? Give her some of yours if you have to.”

Stephanie laughed, and wandered off as Avery closed the door behind her. The others shrugged and returned to their own conversation, though Natasha could tell they were avoiding using any words or references she’d understand. Lot of ‘prey’ and ‘target’ and such.

“You ... you guys are ... less like a p-p-pack and more like a ... family.”

“That’s what a pack is.” Matt came up and sat beside her. So tall, so huge, and the friendliest of the bunch.

Arturo sighed, shrugged, and came to sit across from Natasha where Avery had been. “Yeah, we’re a family. And you love your family, much as you hate them.”

She knew that feeling. Lenny and George earned a smile out of her, no matter how hard she tried to suppress it, and she looked away to the pack hanging out in the corner. They had cut her up and gave her a night of pain and agony she’d never forget, but at least things were looking up. Relatively.

“W-What time ... is it?” she said.

“Half an hour till sunrise,” Matt said. “Basement here should keep you out of sunlight.”

A basement? A far cry from her bed back home, but more than enough to block out sunlight. Probably. Should check it out, and with only thirty minutes to do so, she didn’t want to waste anymore time.

“C-Can I see it?”

Matt nodded, slipped off the table, and scooped her up. So huge! He tried to be gentle, but her insides were still a punctured mess, and she groaned with each shift of limb to get herself into his big arms. Bigger than any of Jessy’s ghouls.

Natasha, him and his buddies were going to kill you. They nearly did. Your insides are swiss cheese and your outside was shredded paper only a little while ago. Stop acting like horny Jessy, start acting like angry Jessy. Stop admiring his big, hard, muscled arms, and figure out a good time and place to stab him in his cute, cuddly face.

Arturo followed, and the two of them descended a stairway into the basement underneath. Building didn’t have power, but Arturo brought an LED lantern, and set it on the table. A big basement, filled with old machinery. Something like a desk you could sit at, with spools on each side, and a motor that did ... something. And there was newer equipment too, pressing equipment of some kind. So not exactly new, but newer than a lot of the old North Side district.

But the most important part was checking for windows. No windows though, just basement wall and lots of cobwebs. Fucking webs.

Matt set her down on the table next to his friend’s lantern, and she did her best to give him a smile. Hard, with the searing pain still working through her chest, but something about his puppy expression made her want to smile at him. Give him a dog treat.

Good god she was already thinking of werewolf jokes. Jessy would be proud.

“Cobwebs ... here t-too.” She sighed, and tried to dust herself off. Mistake. Groaning, she set her hands back down, and sighed.

“We won’t ask what you were doing in the path of our hunt,” Arturo said, “but think you can spare us your name yet?”

“ ... Natasha.” Might as well. Nothing she’d heard would suggest she had cause to withhold her name. But they’d been hunting something in the tunnels, and they weren’t telling her about it, so she wouldn’t tell them about it either. Let Antoinette be the mediator of information in that department.

“Natasha. Cute little thing aren’t you?” Arturo grinned, folded his arms across his chest, and looked at her. “Could fit you in a thimble.”

“If ... if I had b-blood, I’d...”

“You’d what?” His grin grew.

“I’d stab you.”

Arturo laughed, put up his hands before setting them down behind him on one of the machines he leaned against. “Can’t take a compliment?”

“You’re ... playing with me.”

“Am not. Sexiest little vampire I ever got my claws into.”

Sexy? He thought she was sexy? Cute, and ... sexy? He was a flirt, a sexy man, confident in his looks and charm, and smarter than he let on. He had those eyes, Mekhet eyes, analyzing and planning steps ahead, mind running thoughts when he wasn’t saying anything. She knew how he thought, and he thought like a snake, weaving and winding complicated paths of decision chains. He was dangerous! Dangerous, and ... he thought she was sexy.

“ ... you can ... m-m-make it up to me.”

“Ha, you want blood? I can’t just grab someone off the street without attracting attention.”

“ ... g-give me yours.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped himself. He eyed her, thinking a million thoughts a second no doubt, same as she was. Could she drink a werewolf? Would he taste like dog? Would there be a bad reaction? Would he even give her blood, or deny her any for what he might consider an insult? She bit her lip, and waited. God, she was so damn hungry, hungry enough to ask her captors.

“ ... will it hurt?”

“N-No.”

“Will I sleep when you’re done? Comatose style, like I hear humans do when you don’t kill them?”

“Maybe? I ... I need ... n-n-need to drink, and ... need a lot. You might ... m-might sleep for a day? But, you’re a ... a ... werewolf. You’ll heal fast, right?”

Arturo tapped his chin, and looked to his friend. “What do you think?”

“Avery said don’t give her blood at first. But she changed her mind, so ... go ahead? I’ll keep an eye on her. Besides, she’s got maybe twenty minutes of night left. Not like she’s going anywhere.”

Natasha sighed, and rubbed her arm. The suit was ruined there, and her fingers found naked skin. She was pouting. On purpose too, like Jenning might if she wanted to manipulate someone, men in particular.

She’d changed a lot since joining the dragons. Had to think on her feet, instead of mindlessly following Invictus protocol.

“Alright.” Arturo walked up to her, and leaned in close. Very close. He put his hands on the table beside both her legs so he was nose to nose with her. Dark brown eyes, with an edge to them, a bit of steel in his gaze that his friend completely lacked. And with his jaw-length, messy black hair, tanned skin, and tall, lean build, he ... he was sexy. Or she was just so damn hungry she couldn’t tell the difference between attraction and bloodlust.