Page 15 of Vampire Soldier
He laughs. “Nah. I don’t believe that.”
I rub both of my temples. Oh, the Lord is testing me. My twin has been a test since in the womb, I swear. “Sam,” I start again, sighing his name.
Then Malachi is there beside him, a firm hand on my brother’s shoulder. Sam stumbles over his feet as Malachi forcibly turns him to face me, knocking him into the counter.
“Whoa, man, what the fuck!” Sam tries to free himself from Malachi’s easy grip but can’t. His face gets splotchy, obviously getting pissed off. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Get your fucking hands off me.”
“Sam—” Malachi raises a finger with his free hand as if asking for me to wait a moment. I shut up, less because he wants me to and more because I’m surprised at what I’m seeing.
Malachi tilts his head, the charming devil-may-care man who teases and flirts with me is gone. In his place is this cold creature staring down at my brother, as if trying to decide if a creature is worth the effort of killing. My fingers curl as the fear I should have felt earlier trickles into me. Somehow, Sam is still being an idiot. With his free hand, he swings at Malachi. Malachi catches his fist.
Catches. His. Fist. Like he’s in some freaking superhero movie. And he made it look easy.
Finally, Sam starts to realize the situation he’s in and goes still.
“What are you doing in Blake’s house?” Malachi asks, his voice a low rumble of pure authority. I almost open my mouth to answer, my instinct to cover for my brother rising up.
“Because I’m dropping off the money I owe her?” Sam answers as if he isn’t exactly sure.
Malachi pulls Sam an inch or two closer, putting my brother even more off-balance. I should probably feel bad or want to step in, but honestly, it’s almost a relief to let someone else deal with Sam’s crap for once.
“Do you know what time it is?” Malachi continues to question him.
“Uh-uhh—I don’t know? Like midnight or something?”
“It’s 12:07 in the morning.” I look at the clock on the stove, which Malachi has his back to, and holy cow. He’s spot-on. “Do you make it a habit to be incredibly rude and disrespectful to your sister and niece?”
Oh, dammit. I step forward. “Okay, I think that’s enough.”
“Niece?” Sam’s face scrunches up in confusion. Then he lets out a dry laugh. “Oh, her. She’s not my niece. She’s my sister. She’s not actually Blake’s kid.”
His words are like a solid punch to the diaphragm; a rope tied to cement blocks wrapping around my legs. Then air rushes back into my lungs as my fury overwhelms any patience or endurance for shit that I may have had before Sam spoke.
“Get out.”
Sam and Malachi look at me. I refuse to look at Malachi, not wanting to see the pity and judgment. It’s always there when someone finds out. Along with the hundreds of questions that inevitably ruin any potential relationship just like the iceberg and Titanic.
“Seriously?” Sam yanks against Malachi, who lets him go at last. He stares at me like I’m some crazy alien. I take him in, not having seen him since a month ago when he came around asking to borrow money.
We’re twins, but we’re hardly alike. I’m barely over five feet and he’s about six feet tall. Our build is similar, but he’s always looked scrawnier. As he grew up, he never filled out. His hair is a muddy brown, shaggy like he’s a few weeks overdue for a haircut, and it looks like he’s attempting to grow a mustache again. Still with the same little amount of success as the last time. He’s wearing his usual baggy, stained jeans, though it looks like he’s got a new hole in the left knee, and his thin blue zip-up hoodie that he cut thumb-holes in the cuffs. His face, the same shape as mine, is greasy and his brown eyes are red. Honestly, he looks like he needs a shower, a good night’s sleep, and a couple burgers.
And right now, after the day I’ve had, I just couldn’t give less of a fuck.
I point towards the front door, keeping him pinned under my gaze. “Get the hell out of here, Sam. Before I say something I can’t take back.”
Sam rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I don’t need to deal with this bullshit anyways.”
He storms past me, barely avoiding colliding with my shoulder. I turn, following him with my stare to make sure he actually leaves. He’s about to rip open the door in a fit better suited to someone half our age, when Malachi calls out, making him freeze in place.
“Aren’t you forgetting something, Sam?”
Sam glares over his shoulder before turning in place and shoving his hand into his back pocket. He pulls out the faded leather wallet he’s had since we were teens and opens it. He doesn’t even look at me as he takes cash out and tosses it onto my foyer table, the bills spreading out. “You want to count it and make sure it’s all there or something?”
It’s clear he’s asking Malachi and not me, but I roll my eyes and step between them. “Do I need to count it?”
Sam finally looks at me again, face twisted in disdain. He shakes his head and turns, opening the front door. He never fails to get in the last word, though. “Your boyfriend is a dick.”
The door rattles as he slams it closed behind him. The house is quiet, save for the hammering of my heart. I can’t look at Malachi right now, not with how mortified I am. I go to the table and collect the assortment of bills, whispering the count as I go through it. When it’s all there, I put it in my wallet and purse. Deciding to not let Malachi see a hint of humiliation, I stand tall as I face him.
