Read The Night Has Teeth for Free Online

he’s seriously considering
closing the door on my face, but eventually he steps back just
enough to allow me to enter. I feel his hot breath and blazing eyes
on me as I squeeze by. Once I’m inside, he shuts the door behind us
and I’m overcome by a feeling of being trapped. Trying to take my
mind off of this unexpected addition to the household, I take
Amara’s sketchbook out of my backpack and look for a clear surface
on which to lay it down.
    “Where’d you get that?” he demands, grasping at
it. “It’s Amara’s.”
    I pull it back, out of his reach. “I’d just as soon
give it to her myself.”
    He crosses his arms as he practically snarls his
words. “I’m sure.”
    The sudden realization that I may have offended him
on several levels hits me hard, so I keep quiet before digging
myself in deeper. There’s a very long, incredibly uncomfortable
silence between us. Nothing to do but stare down at the well-worn
floorboards at my feet ― examining the scuffed and scratched-up
patches of a century or more of use ― in an attempt to avoid eye
contact with the guy I can only assume is Amara’s boyfriend.
    “Connor!”
    At the sound of her surprised voice, I raise my
head.
    “Hi,” I greet her with a relieved
smile.
    She wears a red Chinese silk robe, cinched at the
waist, with her wet hair done in a coiled braid at her neck.
Standing side by side, they make quite the pair. Tall and lean,
with untamed and unattainable good looks. Mr. Esquire wraps his arm
around her and nuzzles her neck affectionately. I’m about to look
away, embarrassed at intruding on their intimate moment, when his
amber eyes hold mine in an intimidating glare.
    “You left this behind at the restaurant,” I tell
her.
    As she reclaims possession of the sketchbook, she
says, “How kind of you to return it.”
    She’s smiling gently. I send a quick glance in his
direction, and he glares back with disdain. Amara doesn’t seem to
miss the exchange.
    “ I assume you have made
introductions?”
    “Actually, no,” I say, trying not to make it sound
like I’m ratting him out for his ill-mannered behavior.
    “Connor, this is my partner, Arden
LaTène.”
    Even his name sounds like that of a foreign
supermodel. I extend my hand reflexively. But I find myself waiting
with it stretched out as if ― could he be that rude? ― Arden is
considering whether or not to shake it. Finally, he unfolds his arm
and reaches out. As I shake his hand, he focuses his attention on
the wall behind me, as though trying to ignore the fact that I’m
there, going through the motions of civil interaction. With a quick
glance around the flat, I try to think of some other topic of
conversation. The violin that I heard through the door sits in an
open case on a walnut table by the window. For all I know, based on
how ancient everything else looks in the apartment, it could be a
Stradivarius.
    Amara mistakes my prolonged stare at the instrument
as interest and asks, “Do you play?”
    I shake my head instinctively. “Not really. I mean,
as a kid I took lessons, but...”
    But like so many of my extracurricular activities, I
lost interest quickly. The classes were all just a distraction to
fill time while my parents were working late or overseas anyway. By
the time I was old enough to protest, I had found other interests,
like online gaming ― which is what I’d rather be doing right now if
I could only find a polite way of getting out of this
conversation.
    “It is a hobby of Arden’s,” she says.
    I lean in to take a better look at the violin,
thinking that maybe I had been too hasty in giving up this
particular extracurricular activity. As I consider picking up the
instrument for no other reason than to capture the familiar feel of
my childhood, Arden appears beside me and snaps the case shut. Our
eyes meet, and all I sense is pure hatred emanating from him.
    “You play pretty well for just a hobby,” I remark,
hoping to defuse the situation. Something