Let Him In (Let Him Trilogy) Read Free Page B

nourishment. Before he could excuse himself, Alexis said to the biker, “Come on, big fella. I know somewhere there’s a pork barbecue stand with your name all over it.”
    “My friends call me Big Bad Bart,” the man boasted, his chest puffing out as he slid one beefy arm around Alexis’ tiny waist. “Wit’ good reason, too.”
    “Promise you’ll be gentle with me?” she teased with a flutter of her long eyelashes.
    Big Bad Bart guffawed. “Who you kiddin’, doll? I can spot a broad with a hankerin’ for the rough stuff from a mile away.”
    Meeting Zane’s unwavering gaze, Alexis grinned. “I think he’s a keeper,” she said, then giggled.
    Narrowing his eyes in warning, Zane mouthed He better be before turning to face Samuel, who had tears in his eyes. “He did call you a freak.”
    “No point getting mad at the truth.”
    Zane released a harsh breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can you, for one goddamn night, drop the poor little me routine?”
    “It’s not me I feel sorry for.” 
    Before Zane could respond Samuel took off, darting between a couple of rednecks arguing over which of the two had the coolest hat. “It looks like I done got shot up!” boasted a noodle-thin man sporting a camouflage hat riddled with fake bullet holes.
    The potbellied bald guy next to him waved around a hat with fake hair sewn into it.  “But I got me a mullet!”
    With his patience and energy nearing dangerously low levels, Zane did not have it in him to go another round with the reigning champ of self-pity. Instead of chasing after Samuel, he turned his focus to the sights, sounds and smells surrounding him.
    He was surrounded by people: Rambunctious kids. Exhausted parents.  Teenage girls running into everything because they were too busy text messaging to watch where they were going. Teenage boys more interested in chasing each other with the wooden mallet intended for the large rubber mole that emitted a high-pitched squeak whenever it was clobbered on the head. Coins clinked against glass bowls, bells chimed, whistles blew, music exploded from beyond the grandstand where a country band sang about fishing in the dark. And the smells...
    Oh dear Blodbad, the smells. The odor of human blood changed with emotion, and the smorgasbord of options bombarding him from every direction had him on the verge of a feeding frenzy.
    Swallowing hard from the lack of moisture in his mouth, Zane spotted a curvy redhead purchasing fries from the stand six feet away. Turning around, she popped a slither of potato into her mouth and then shuffled forward, her full attention on the Styrofoam cup she held. 
    Zane took a deep breath, zoning in on the scent of the famished woman’s blood. The flavor of that life-sustaining liquid also changed with emotion, however his preferred method of feeding primarily during sex—the only way he could do so without calling attention to himself and then be able to leave afterward without a body in need of disposal—meant he rarely got to enjoy something other than the smell and taste of a sexually aroused female. 
    As difficult as it was to do so, Zane had to refrain from sampling the fear-laden supply of blood stored at home. He knew he would not be able to stop after a mere sip or two, which would leave Samuel, who refused to hunt for himself, without sustenance. His brother’s ability to resist such temptation while in a perpetual state of starvation was beyond Zane’s comprehension. 
    He reached for the silver watch on his left wrist as the woman closed the distance between them. He was about to undo the clasp when the sharp scent of fear pierced his brain like a red hot poker. Ignoring the voluptuous female now shuffling past him, Zane quickly identified the source—a shrieking woman paused at the top of the Ferris wheel.  He was salivating by the time the operator helped her off the ride. 
    Zane waited until she was approximately a foot away before unhooking the watch’s