Victor is driving, and cursing like a sailor, snagging nervous glances from the rearview mirror every now and then. Truck is creaking and shuddering, and it sounds like it will fall a part at any minute now. I don’t care. I just wish we could go even faster, but pedal’s on the floor already. Thick cloud of black smoke rises behind the trees. Service station. It went up in flames.
“How’s the runt faring?” Victor asks. Logan’s not coping too well. One might say he’s not all here. Because he isn’t. We left considerable chunk of his left thigh and part of his windpipe behind us about ten minutes ago. He’s healing already, but still choking and gasping for air. There’s blood all over the dashboard, on the bench, dripping to the floor… I’m covered with it. I’m not sick yet, but I’m sure I will be soon.
“We can’t stop now… Have to get some distance between us…” Logan gurgles, spitting off the blood from his mouth. What the fuck is he talking about? Those… Those things that were after us were in the diner when it blew up. There’s no possible way they could come after us anymore. Right? Right?
“It’ll take a while from them to recover, but I don’t want to be anywhere near when it happens.” Victor is agreeing with Logan.
“We… Have to ditch this tr… truck. Now. They can tra… track this down,” Logan manages to stutter, then all he can do is to lay low and wait for his body to repair the damage he took.
Two hours later we arrive to a small town. Vic books us two rooms, and helps us in.
“I’ll go and get rid of the truck. I saw a good-looking camper parked out back. We’ll take that. That way we don’t have to stop. One can drive and others can sleep in the back.” I don’t even dare to think about how he’s going to persuade that camper van’s proud owner to hand over the keys. That thing looks monstrous. It’s one of those luxury liners, meant for long distance journeys. Probably complete apartment with kitchen and a shower. Not that I’m complaining. Victor hands me the key to our room and leaves, closing the door behind him. I turn my attention to Logan.
“Quite a mess I made… Could you help me to the bathroom? I’ll clean myself up a bit. Don’t want to smear blood all over this place. Too easy to track us down that way.” Thank God she isn’t asking any questions. I know I would be after what she saw back there. They are not exactly human, my ex-employers that is. And it shows. Even Vic is quite pretty boy compared to them. Talking about pretty boys, do I look horrible, or do I look horrible? Everything is already healed up, but I can imagine what this bloody mess looked like just couple hours ago. Have to give credit to Marie for not bolting. Even now she’s just stripping off our blood soaked clothes without batting an eye. And all of a sudden I’m so fucking horny.
Call it survival instinct or what ever you like, but when she kneels in front of me to help to get off my boots, all I can think of is her lips wrapping around my cock. I can practically feel it, and see it. Blood streaking our bodies, her lush lips around me, eyes locked to mine… And hello! I’m ready to go. Oh, God. I’m a freak. I need help. I’m so fucking hard it hurts.
“Get up.” Logan’s voice sounds a bit funny. Must be because of his throat got ripped open… Or not. Sight that greets me when I look up from his boots is breathtaking. He’s towering over me, cock hard and ready, feral gleam in his eyes. His chest is heaving, every muscle in his body coiled. I can see the tips of his claws between his knuckles. Seeing him like that makes all kinds of interesting feelings wash over me. He looks ready to fuck the living daylights out of me. I stand up slowly, and he licks his lips. His whole body trembles from tension.
“Get out.” Not the command I was expecting, but… I turn to leave, and suddenly he’s all over me, pushing me against the door, grinding his cock against my lower back.
I can’t let her leave. I have to have her. Now. Fuck. Fuck. This isn’t good. She’s going to get hurt. Should let her go now. I can do it. Just let go of her and back up a bit so she can open that fucking door. She smells so fucking good. Little sweat, vanilla, peppermint and copper. Copper from my blood. There’s a trail of it on her neck. Just a little lick… Her breasts are so soft against my palms. I shouldn’t pinch her nipples this hard, but they are just the right size. Fit perfectly to my mouth.
“Turn over.”
I do as he says and his lips latch on my nipples. He’s pressing me against the door, and his cock leaves wet, slimy blotches on my skin. This time he isn’t hesitant. His other hand tangles to my hair to keep me in place while his other hand delves between my legs, fingers parting my lower lips. One finger slips in and I have to grab his shoulders for balance. It felt okay for the first time, but now this is pure torture. That one finger isn’t enough. I need more. Soon enough he moves both of his hands to my buttocks and lifts me up.
“Wrap your legs around me.” His cock is bobbing at my entrance, all hot and slick.
I’m going to leave a mark on the crook of her neck, but I don’t fucking care. I’m in, and that’s all that matters right now. Her nails are digging to my back and she’s screaming, but I can tell it’s a good thing. I can taste her blood. I’m biting all too hard, but she’s getting wetter every minute, her insides grasping me more eager with every passing second. She’s about to come. I don’t care about that either. I’m not planning to finish anytime soon.
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