Season content notes include discussion of violence, explicit sex, and bondage.
Avery cursed the tri-fold god he’d been beaten into worshipping. The beater was making a weird noise again. At least the engine wasn’t smoking. Fuck, he’d have to pull off. The last small town was three miles back, and he didn’t need anyone following him after that fiasco in the alley two towns ago.
Lights up ahead. Avery’d taken a backroad when he left town and hadn’t expected to see anything until the next town, but sometimes bars like this popped up in weird places if his drive East had been anything to go by. A weird bar in the backwoods was better than a dead stop with no way to contact a mechanic though. If he even had enough left to pay for one.
Avery pulled into the lot and listened to the car idle for a minute. The stench of mechanical smoke wafted up from the exhaust pipe. He sighed, shut the car off, and headed inside to let the engine cool down. Maybe that would help. Either way, he was exhausted and needed something to eat. He ignored the bell on the door jingling as he walked in. And to hell with the regulars staring at him. Unless someone picked a fight, they weren’t his problem.
If they did, he might be able to quench a bit of the thirst clawing at his throat.
Deryn served up Matty’s last pint of his regular porter. The man was a good sort who ran the ferry in town, but if he went one serving over his limit, he’d be half-naked on the bar again. No one — especially not Deryn — liked it when that happened.
“Last one,” Deryn said, handing over Matty’s drink. As he spoke, the doorbell rang. Strange. All the regulars were already in for the night, and he hadn’t been expecting anyone else.
A dhampir strode in. A hunter, if the way he stalked up to the bar was any indication. Shit.
Unlike the last half-blood hunter that had come after Deryn, this one dressed like fifty miles of bad road. Tattered shirt with obvious knife tears under a thin, beat-up windbreaker. It was like the young man either didn’t know or didn’t care that he looked like shit.
He ignored the patrons that were there and barely glanced at Deryn. Maybe he wasn’t hunting tonight, then. The dhampir grabbed a seat at the bar, scowled as he finally stared directly into Deryn’s eyes, and said, “I hope you’ve got nachos on the menu.”
The whipcrack in that voice sent a shiver clawing its way down Deryn’s spine. God, this man dripped dominance. “Ayuh,” he said, ignoring the odd look Matty and Brian gave him, “Coming right up.”
“Good. How much do they cost?”
Deryn couldn’t think and simply quoted the price for the nachos alone and as part of a meal.
“Water’s fine.” The young half-blood passed over a twenty and added almost as an afterthought, “And thanks.”
Nachos. He could make nachos. Deryn focused on making the newly ordered plate. He set it before the stranger with a rough bob of his head.
With a sharp nod, the man started eating. He attacked the plate as if he hadn’t eaten in at least a day. Deryn frowned. When was the last time the kid had blood? He didn’t look too pale, but you couldn’t always tell.
Deryn returned to tending the bar but kept half an eye on the flatlander. Before the man had finished eating, Matty and Brian headed out, giving Deryn a wink on the way. He’d been here too damn long if they knew him that well. Ah well, not like anything would happen. The rest of the regulars followed them.
The flatlander finished his food soon after, the scowl never leaving his face. “Keep the change.” He headed outside.
Deryn sighed as the dhampir left. At least he’d have something for his fantasies tonight. And the oversized tip didn’t hurt either.
Avery got back in the car and turned the key. It sounded like the engine was trying to turn over, but all it did was growl as white smoke billowed out the exhaust pipe. It didn’t start. “Fuck.”
He slammed his fist against the steering wheel and growled. Just had to give out now, didn’t it? He got out, slammed the door shut, and headed back inside.
The barkeep was turning the sign to ‘closed,’ but let Avery back in without more than a one-word question. “Problem?”
“Damned engine gave out. You wouldn’t happen to be hiding a mechanic behind that bar, would you?”
The barkeep wiped his hands, clearly giving himself time to think. He looked Avery over critically. Who wouldn’t? Avery knew he looked like shit, but what was he supposed to do? All his clothes came torn from a dumpster and damaged by too many knife fights. Still, the way the man stared, it felt like he knew something. “I know a bit,” the barkeep finally said, “Too dark to do anything now though.”
“Fair enough.” Avery sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, muttered under his breath to quiet for a human to hear, “Suppose that’s what I get for 500 cash…”
After a brief hesitation, an offer came. “I got an extra room in the back. Don’t usually let it.”
“How much? I’d rather not impose.” Help didn’t come for free. Ever.
Deryn bit back a half dozen inappropriate comments when the dhampir asked about cost and finally settled on, “No charge. Just clean up before you leave.”
“I can do that.” He was relieved, Deryn could tell, a bit of that surety back in his voice, though without the whipcrack this time. “And thanks.” He gestured for Deryn to lead the way. Deryn showed him a small room behind the bar — little more than four walls and a bed. The vampire hesitated again, then suggested, “You can use the shower upstairs if you want.”
“Let me get a change of clothes out of the car, and I’ll take you up on that.” The young man disappeared into the parking lot and returned quickly with a tattered backpack slung over his shoulder. “You said the shower’s upstairs?”
“This way,” Derin said, biting back the reflexive ‘sir’ at the last moment. He led the way to his apartment above the bar. The stairs came out in the living room, with Deryn’s small book collection holding pride of place. “Right over there,” he waved to the bathroom door as he pulled a towel out of a nearby closet. “Here ya go.”
Avery took the towel, but his eyes were on the bookshelf. “History of Werewolves: Clans of the Western Provinces? Where did you get that?”
Deryn managed not to wince. That book had never been publicly released, and had been a gift from an pack leader for helping out with a few things a few decades back. If the dhampir recognized it… “Can’t say,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “I pick stuff up all over.”
“Huh… Lucky.” The young man disappeared into the bathroom and came out in holey jeans and a different ragged t-shirt. He used the towel to get the last of the drips out of his long reddish-black hair, attention roaming back to the bookshelf. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Deryn licked his lips. “I, um… I’m Deryn.”
“Call me Avery.” He yawned. “You able to look at the car after sun-up?”
“Ayuh. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Night.” Avery headed downstairs.
“Night.” Deryn headed to his bed and had to rub one out before he could relax enough to sleep.
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