Anger filled John Abraham Danvers as he left the brothel.
Having remained tightly in control while he'd remained inside with such arrogant parlay of the undead, now that he'd managed to return to the open air of the street, his fury threatened to erupt at the first thing that he might otherwise find issue with along his path.
He'd had his fill of such blood suckers and never particularly enjoyed dealing with those who should be dead but steadfastly refused to stay that way once they were in the ground.
Their collective insolence was far more offensive than any his own kind may have ever dared to show him.
A woman casually joined him as she wrapped her soft arm through his while they walked. "It sure is a shame that those ... people couldn't help such a distinguished looking man such as yourself." She purred, while her supple body moved against his with each step.
The scent of jasmine from her long red hair brought promise of pleasure while a bountiful depth of cleavage mustered a need for adventure and exploration.
"And what exactly has led you to believe that I may be in such need of your services?" He offered with growing amusement.
"I've been told that I'm rather gifted." She replied in whisper of not so subtle promise.
"My name is Pandora ..." Her voice was whimsical as her lips filled with a smile, "... and we will know shortly if I was right about you."
He allowed himself to be lead through the back of her brothel as any thought of anger evaporated once she got him behind her bedroom door and locked it.
By the time they found the bed, he had far more interesting things on his mind that any further interaction with is undead neighbors.
YOU ARE READING
Welcome to the Weird Wild West. The streets here are dusty and lead often runs hot as the women are fast and the cards prove even faster. All around you there are people who are not as they appear and others who watch them. Supernatural and mortal...