TuesdaY Tales - Hardy

Hi everyone! Welcome to Tuesday Tales!
We are back with Ezekiel Hallow in Featherweight (Hallow Brothers 6). This week’s word prompt is “hardy”.
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The two playing pool chuckled as they set their pool sticks down on the felt covered surface and prowled towards him. The one on the left, with black rumpled hair, untucked dress shirt and wrinkled dress slacks, smirked at him. “We guys? You act as if you know us?”
Ezekiel rose to his feet, nudging his beer aside. He scanned for exits other than glass door. There were none. This place had to violate at least a dozen fire codes. Did they have fire codes in the backwoods? “I know your kind. You have distant cousins in Minnesota that are making my family’s life a living hell right now.”
The vampires frowned and the one dressed like he had left his soul at the office gave a hardy sniff to the stale air of the bar. He shrugged. “You wouldn’t be the first werewolf I’ve drained dry. Your blood tastes like shit, though.”
“Great to know.”
Before Ezekiel could drop into stance to defend himself, the bell on the door tinkled a greeting. The entire room turned to see who walked in. He cursed under his breath. His odds weren’t great as it was and now he had to defend someone?
Except there was no one there but a small puddle on the floor left by the storm outside. A second later two of the vampires closest to the door dropped to their knees, writhing in pain.
That was when Ezekiel saw her. Jet black hair flowed down past her ivory face and down her back. Eyes so dark they could have been mistaken as lavender glanced at him. Her whole body, garbed in black, stiffened at the sight of him.
It was the woman in his dreams, the one that made him jack off so many times before he hit the road on this trip. His cock stiffened at the sight of her. It was a really bad time for a hard-on.
“Take cover,” she demanded.
Ezekiel smiled at her, reassuringly. “I’ve got this, sweetheart.”
She glowered at him as her fist flew out, dropping another vampire to the ground. “I’m sorry. Did you just call me sweetheart?”
He bit back a groan as the two pool playing vampires charged him. For a moment, he thought the distraction was going to fuck up his fighting style. As one body thudded on top of the other, he let out a sigh of relief.
“Do you not like being called sweetheart?” he countered.
Her hand dropped to her thigh to produce a wicked looking knife. She pointed it at him. “I am not your sweetheart. Call me that again and it’ll be the last word you ever mutter.”
Ezekiel didn’t know what possessed him, but he stormed across the bar to her and grabbed the wrist wielding the knife. He tugged her against his body, feeling hers melt against him. He pried her lips apart with his, losing his breath in the kiss as his tongue caressed hers.