The Vampire's Requiem [malexmale]

Chapter Sixteen

"Put that out," I scowled, "You're going to give me lung cancer."

"You're a vampire. You don't get lung cancer."

"Then it'll annoy me and I'll kill you."

"You're, like, four feet tall."

"And your hulky clumsy feet will be cut right out from under you if you don't shut up and let me relax." I snapped in irritation, then slumped back against the bed, groaning in pain. Hunter smirked and heaved himself to his feet, flicking the ash off the end of his cigarette.

"You better not get too comfortable. We're not staying here much longer," He said, approaching one of the windows and peeking out through the blinds before turning to me as I frowned, "These guys aren't gonna let us go without asking for a favor and I don't do favors for werewolves." I gave him a droll stare.

"But you do favors for vampires who do favors for you." I stated. Hunter paused at that, staring straight ahead as if processing that dity in his head before he glanced at me pointedly.

"Not by choice. Trust me, if I had it my way, you and Ariel would be swimming in your own blood in the Zephyra swimming pool." He answered. I scowled at him, but he ignored me as he put out his cigarette on an ash tray near the bed. He shook out his arms a little as he approached the bed.

"What're you doing?" I asked, getting a sinking feeling in my gut.

"You can't chase after your boyfriend, so I'm going to carry you to him." Hunter replied, then threw the blankets back off me. I gasped in shock, reaching to cover myself, then hissing in pain at the quick movement. Hunter picked up a change of clothes off the end of the bed and tossed them at me.

"Change into those so I don't look like Jeffrey Dahmer." He said. I scowled, picking up the change of clothes, surprised to find that they were my size until I picked up a flannel shirt in disgust.

"I am not dressing like a common smalltown hillbilly." I told him, dropping the shirt. Hunter raised an eyebrow.

"Flannel isn't for hillbillies nowadays, old man. They're actually something the hipsters wear."

"I'm not wearing it."

"Fine, then. Walk around buck-ass naked. Ain't no sweat off my balls, cuz you ain't gettin' chauferred if you're naked. It's not my job to carry naked little boys places."

"Goddess, your voice is starting to sound like nails on a chalkboard."

"Ah, please. You can't resist my Cajun roots," Hunter answered, purposely making his accent much thicker, "Anyway, hurry up and get dressed. The less time we spend here, the better." I gave him a sour glare, but didn't argue any further. Hunter turned around, giving me privacy to change. My entire body quivered in pain and it took everything I had not to yell in pain as I managed to get the pants on, but that was all I would bother with.

Hunter didn't say anything about it and just reached out, lifting me up with an ease that irritated me, but I was in too much pain to bother arguing. I frowned at how hard and muscular his chest was, his arms curled around me. He carried me as if it were no problem, and that only worsened my mood to the point where socializing was the last thing I wanted to do.

Hunter made his way out of the room and into a short hallway before we entered the largest part of the house, a connected living room, dining room, and kitchen. It was a nice home and smelled heavily of pine and smoke. No one else was home, however. Hunter came over and placed me on the sofa so I could rest while he went to the kitchen. I frowned, watching him go.

"Werewolves are incredibly territorial. I don't think they'd appreciate you raiding their fridge." I told him as he opened the fridge to peer around inside.