Post by Ryder James Crowe on Apr 5, 2013 17:50:22 GMT -5
Ryder wasn't stupid. He knew what he was about to was insane and irresponsible but he just didn't give a damn.
That was the point anyway, wasn't it?
After draining what was left in the bottle of Jim Beam (who had become his best bud along with Jack and the Captain) he wanted, no needed some action. Some blood-sucking, life-fucking vampire action.
The alcohol should have muted the demons in his head into a nice state of 'don't-give-a-fuck', but instead it had fueled the proverbial fire. The rage inside of him wasn't just a little backyard bonfire, but a pit of hell kind of inferno. And boy, was he in hell. Self made by the way his family and friends told it, but he was burning up none-the-less.
And that was just what he wanted, right?
Ryder believed he deserved every wound and ache he got after what he'd let happen to Jaelen. If not for his inability to do what he'd always known he had to do, she'd still be alive right now, a wife to him and a mother to their child.
Oh God... Jaelen
Jaela was never going to know what her mother was like. She wasn't going to ever get to hear the lullabies the woman would sing to her swollen belly or the way she loved the unborn baby so fiercely.
Ryder had to bite back a miserable moan before the sound could escape.
Damn he missed his woman.
And the baby...every time he looked at her he saw Jaelen in her eyes and quiet smile. That was why the baby was with Chey now and why she'd been with family instead of him for the past two weeks.
When the hunter was in this state of mind (which was all the time anymore) it was better the babe had the comfort of a kind touch than his cold shoulder.
Hell, he couldn't deal with his own pain, how could he be expected to care for an innocent child?
Besides...he was doing what he needed to do. He was hunting down and killing the monsters that had stolen her mother. The monsters that didn't just live under her bed.
Taking a deep inhale off his cancer stick, the young hunter momentarily held onto the calm that noxious smoke seemed to put him in before getting down to doing what was doing.
In that broken down house on the corner of the block there was a coven of sharp toothed biters.
From what Ryder had seen in the few nights he'd been stalking the house, there were five or six vampires living there.
Nothing he couldn't handle.
Drawing in the last drag off his smoke, Ry dropped it on the ground and then crushed it under his shit-kicker. The hunter then habitually checked his personal arsenal; which included two hand guns he'd specially modified with dead man's blood filled rounds and a razor edged machete which he strapped to his middle back with a leather holster.
He had everything he needed except...
Reaching into the saddlebag of his mothercycle the hunter grabbed a freshie of Jim, twisted off the top, and took a heavy swallow.
He shuddered as the burn traveled down to his belly and sighed tranquilly as the warmth spread all over him.
It was so on now.
Except his boots were plastered to the pavement and the streetlight shining down on him was like a luminescent weight across his broad shoulders.
That damned voice in his head was whispering he needed to live for her.
But who was her? The woman he'd loved and had to behead or the baby who he'd failed?
Either way, live or die, this was the only thing that felt right. And damn, taking the heads off those fuckers felt good.
So he locked down his rebuilt Harley and put one boot in front of the other towards that god forsaken house.
[ Open to anyone-- from hunters on the same trail to a vampire lurking about and might be one of the coven or just someone walking by. I'm easy. Come play with me! ]