Free The Bastard by Inez Kelley Page B

in the packed car lot. “If you need it, I’ve got a pocket full of shit. One drop in her coffee, instant die latte . She’ll be toast before her ass hits the ground.”
    His hand wrapped around Rex’s throat before he thought. “You don’t touch her.”
    Rex shoved him. “This Cake’s got your ‘nads in a knot good and tight. You want her alive, fine. But if she’s not stoned, she’ll act like bait and draw them out. That works for me. I could use a good fight. Or a good fuck. Or both.” Rex took a deep drag of the cigarette and dropped his voice. “I hate waiting, it makes my balls itch.”
    “You need a nap.”
    Rex’s snort forced a tight stream of smoke from his thinned lips. “I need to get laid. It’s been two days.”
    Although the Forsaken didn’t have to eat or sleep like normal mortals, they could and most did. It was a comfort thing, things they’d done in their human lives that carried over. They ate, fucked, and slept. Death hadn’t erased those pleasures, but now they were a luxury. Unless you were Rex. He used sex like most people used toilet paper.
    Injuries meant a coma-like sleep to heal. It wasn’t unusual for Vike to spend a few hours a week asleep, letting his body repair itself while his mind processed nothing but empty dreamless black. The worse the injury, the longer the sleep required. Inside his hiking boots, Vike’s toes curled. He had spent three weeks in 1962 asleep after he lost a leg in an explosion, courtesy not of a Leech attack, but a misplaced human land mine in Vietnam.
    It had taken two Forsaken to hold him down while Nomad cauterized the stump. Three weeks later, he woke up good as new. Vike flexed his left foot. Had the injury been any worse, he’d have needed Sela. His gut spasmed at that thought. She could make all their injuries disappear, but man, it hurt like a motherfucker when she did. He’d rather sleep for a few weeks than go through that hell.
    A sexually predatory verve straightened Rex’s spine and he flipped the cigarette to the ground. “This inbreeding party just got a lot more interesting. Sweet set of tits approaching.”
    Vike glanced over his shoulder then slapped his hand against Rex’s stomach. “She doesn’t like Italian sausage, got it?”
    “What, you think she’d prefer Yule log?”
    Vike turned, putting his body between Rex’s leering eyes and Lacy. Faded jeans hugged the curve of her thighs just right and her blue hoodie had a bright yellow WVU emblazoned across her…yeah, sweet set of tits. She gripped his hips, went to her tiptoes and pressed a light kiss to his mouth.
    “Nice,” snickered Rex. “Way to have your Cake and eat it, too.”
     
     
    Something stiffened the hard muscles under Lacy’s hands. Erik gritted his teeth and shifted her to his side, keeping his arm along her shoulders. “Lacy, this is my buddy, Rex.”
    A twitch played along Rex’s mouth. Ignoring Erik’s glower, he took her hand, gave a slight bow and dropped a kiss to her knuckles. A warm breath feathered across her hand as he spoke in a beautifully lyrical language.
    “Keep dreaming, Roman. And get your mouth off my girl.”
    Rex shrugged. “Can’t blame me for trying. Nice to meet you, Lacy.”
    “Hi. Do you work at the security firm, too?”
    “Yeah.” A smile flashed, shark-like and cold. Lacy fought a shiver. The coffee brown sweater lent his gold hair a warmth that echoed the sun, but his shoulders were too tight, too rigid to be the playboy he looked like. The relaxed pose was just that, a pose. His head barely turned but she would bet her last penny that behind those dark lenses his eyes were scrutinizing everyone and everything.
    Something fluid washed over him as he focused over her shoulder. “Now that’s an ass I could take a bite out of.”
    Lacy looked then burst out laughing. The brunette across the fairground wore a rhinestone tiara, a satin sash and jeans that had to have been painted on. She kept glancing at Rex and