Unspoken.pdf

his book was published by

Shadowire Press

2019 Grove Street #6

Boulder, CO 80302

Unspoken

Cover art by Coyote Shadow Studio

Edited by Michael Barnette

Book Layout and Design by Coyote

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Unspoken

by Katica Locke

Unspoken

I laugh to myself as the old man strikes out

again. I’ve been watching him most of the night,

sitting over at the bar, drinking cheap whiskey and

hitting on anything that gets within ive feet of

him. Well, almost anything. He takes one look at

the vampires and turns away, uninterested. Can’t

say I blame him. A walking corpse wouldn’t be

my irst choice, either. Neither would he, usually,

but he intrigues me. What is a guy pushing sixty

doing in a night club called Faerie Wings ?

Watching faeries, apparently. A pair of them—

one fair with silver hair, one dark with shadow

wings—walk up to the bar and order drinks. he

old guy says something, I can’t hear what from

across the room, but the faeries exchange pitied

glances and walk away. he old man scowls down

into his whiskey glass. He wants to get laid bad.

Absently, I inger the bulge in my pocket. I’ve

been waiting for a friend of mine, but it looks like

he’s not going to show. No sense letting the night

be a complete waste. Rising from my solitary

table in the corner, I skirt the edge of the dance

loor, the throng of writhing, grinding bodies

in the center drawing my attention.. Any other

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Unspoken

night, I’d be in there with them, but not tonight.

I need more than over-the-clothes groping.

I stop beside him, lean on the bar. “Hey,

Maasi,” I call to the bartender over the music.

“Can I get a beer?” She pulls a glass down of the

shelf and ills it from a keg under the counter.

I glance over at the guy. Maybe he’s not as old

as I thought.. His face is weathered and tanned

from the sun, and his brown hair is streaked with

gray, but his dark eyes are sharp, attentive, his

shoulders square, his lean frame taut and wiry.

He looks at me, his eyes traveling down my body,

and I allow myself a smirk. I’m a pretty boy and I

know how to work it, with big eyes, long ingers,

and legs to make a faerie jealous.

Maasi slides my beer across the bar and I hand

her a stack of small silver coins. Beside me, the

guy clears his throat.

“Is that ass just for show, or can I take it for

a test drive?” he says and I almost laugh out

loud. No wonder he keeps getting rejected. If

I had anything better to do, I’d walk away, too.

Instead, I pick up my beer and turn my back

to the bar, leaning against the brass rail, sip my

drink and regard him over the rim of the glass.

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