Fantasy Short Stories

She's Got a Pulse

Writing Contests! by @IamnotintheER ... Prompt Chapter: Round 1 ... Prompt: Pick a song and write a short story about the song. ... Due Friday, February 23rd, 2018

I chose the song: "My Type" by Saint Motel

"She's just my type," DeSoto said with a gleam in his sinfully black eyes.

"Yes," Arless replied sounding vaguely disgusted. "And what type is that DeSoto?"

"She's got a pulse and she's breathing," the younger vamp answered with a sensual smile that spread slowly across his perfectly symmetrical and intoxicatingly handsome face. Clearly there was some kind of hidden meaning in that ridiculous statement.

Arless responded with an undignified snort while watching, with keen interest, as DeSoto cast his eyes on the woman in question. She was casually leaning against the window case behind the settee DeSoto was lounging on. The two shared a look. An intense look. Arless couldn't tell whether they hated each other or they had some deep connection. Either way, he didn't like that look and he scoffed at DeSoto's cryptic comment.

DeSoto ignored him and continued to lay there peacefully, which irritated Arless to no end. Unable to sit still any longer, he rose with impatience from the wing-back chair he'd occupied the last hour. Clearly, his young friend was not taking the countless assassination attempts against him seriously if the person he chose as his personal bodyguard was nothing more than a half-blood Nahual. How could a half-human/were-jaguar hybrid possible protect DeSoto against the dark forces conspiring to bleed him dry, stake him and behead him? It was obvious that she was not up to the task at hand. The best she could be was a shield, but she was so small, no more than 5'8" and 140 lbs, that he doubted she'd make an effective one.

Arless caught DeSoto looking back at him with a subtle but mischievous glint in his eyes. It was a look Arless had seen too many times before. And, even though it was beneath him, he rolled his eyes at his friend. He couldn't help but feel that DeSoto was holding back, that he wasn't telling him everything there was to know about this half-blood Nahual.

Not being in-the-know really irked Arless. He pinned the half-blood with a glare. She pinned him right back with a predatory look that sent a foreboding chill down his spine. He couldn't be sure she wasn't part harpy with that death glare of hers. Regardless, he didn't trust her, and he never would. The truth was, he hated anything that came between him and DeSoto. Especially, something as innocuous and unimpressive as a human-feline hybrid.

She was so far beneath him, beneath DeSoto too, that Arless found it galling she was even in their presence. To add injury to the insult of her mere existence, she wasn't even afraid of either of them, when, by all rights, she should be quaking before them or at least looking the part. They were practically vamp royalty and what was she? Nothing! Less than nothing! A filthy half-blood! His canines elongated as his temper rose to new heights.

"Put your fangs away Arless," DeSoto said with a charming laugh. "Nya's are three inches longer and will do far more damage than yours." DeSoto was well aware of his friend's prejudices and tolerated them for old-time's sake.