I licked my dry lips, hungry. I knew I should go out and try to find Yasmine, the girl I usually as stuck to the hip with, but I was tired of always watching her. Alls I wanted was some blood. Sweet and warm, so the burning I felt in my stomach, and throat, would finally leave.
"Josey." A voice hissed from the doorway about twenty feet away from where I was seated on the wooden floor of an abandoned building.
"Marco." I replied, a strong Spanish accent that was usually hidden hanging on my every word. "Que Paso, senor?" I watched as the tall, Hispanic man walked further into the room.
"You know what's wrong." He glared at me so harshly that I would've turned my head if we weren't as close as we were.
"No, quello che e successo, Marco." I replied honestly. I had no idea what was going on, but I knew it has to be bad.
"Your little amante has run into trouble." I hissed when Marco said it. I knew exactly who he was talking about, even though I know longer had any ties with him.
"Peter?" I questioned, even though I knew that was whom he was speaking of already.
"Ovviamente, Bambino."
"What kind of trouble, Marco?" I asked, starting to stand up, coughing slightly.
"Grandi problemi ragazza." Marco sighed an unneeded sigh, but continued on with his sentence. "The wolves caught him feeding on their territory, and they demand you to be there and talk to you. Their stubborn ears wont listen when we told them you two have been long separated. Per Favore, vai Veronica."
"Sense when have you had a soft spot for Peter?" I asked raising an eyebrow.
"I don't. Nina does." He smiled slightly at the mention of his soul mates name.
"Nina is too kind. Fine. I need to find Yasmine first though." I said, starting to take off the nightgown I was wearing. Marco closed his eyes, surprised at me.
"No. I will find troublemaker." He winked, opening his eyes, watching as I slipped on my cutoffs, and a large white shirt with stains of paint all over it. I grimaced as I noticed it was Peter's shirt, but I left it on, feeling comfortable as I put my black converse on. It was maybe six at night, and I knew I needed energy before I went to deal with the problem at hand, so I settled on a water bottle full of blood that I had just in case of emergencies like these. I took a few sips of it, racing out the door and in minutes I was in front of the door of the building Yasmine and I were crashing at, walking out the door and trying to blend in with the crowd of New York. I found my way to the parking garage next to the building, instantly finding my red Ferrari F430. The rest of the night was going to be interesting, and I knew that I probably would like the outcome of it, at all.
Once I reached the woods a few hours away from the city, I blew into the whistle I had in my glove compartment. Immediately, Lorenzo, the head of the werewolves, was in front of me.
"Bonjour, Veronica." He smiled, almost business like.
"Where's Peter." I huffed, putting my hands on my hips.
"Always the impatient one, Veronica." Lorenzo let his hand graze at my hand on my hips, and I rolled my eyes. I would never get involved sexually with a werewolf. They stunk of wet dog. "He's with the boys. Follow me, if you can." He laughed wickedly, running off, me following right behind him. Werewolves always thought they were better then vampires, another turn off. We reached the middle of the forest, where there weren't as many trees, and I saw the rest of the pack, a strikingly handsome man in the middle of them. Peter Grazo was defiantly attractive, and when we were sexually involved, it had been one of the best relationships I'd had, even though I don't like to admit it. I found out he was screwing some hooker behind my back after three years of being together, and I immediately cut him off. I haven't seen him in years.
"Ronnie." He smiled at me, and I looked at him hard, telling him to shut up so I could take care of this mess and go hunting, hopefully never to see him ever again. He frowned slightly, and I looked away when he tried to get me to look at him. I didn't want to get attached to him again, and just end up getting hurt.
"Boys, me and Peter have been over for years." I said, looking them all in the eyes.
"So we've heard. But you're still his angel, so we need you to promise something if he's going to live." Carlos, a large Hispanic man said.
"What?" I said, narrowing my eyes at him.
"You need to get his act together. This is the third time this year! The next time we even catch him on our territory, he's dead." Carlos continues.
"Fine. I promise." I said, lying through my fangs. I was never one to keep promises, and I defiantly wasn't going to keep this one. I hope Peter rots in hell.