probably should have walked away but his body refused. He stood his ground.
“What cha staring at, punk?” The man’s voice slurred. Reed wasn’t sure if it was from alcohol or drugs. Damn, these men were such easy prey. The deer was a more challenging opponent.
The other two moved closer, strategically placing their bodies in a triangle around him.
“Be-itch, you hear him talking to you?” The glint of a knife sliced through the air. The tall one spoke up.
Reed snickered, wondering why he allowed his mind to put him in this situation. Deep down he knew. A small itch deep inside of him still yearned for the hunt, the prey, the kill and the savor of blood on his senses. Tonight he’d be sated. He blinked and they were on him.
The knife sliced across his abdomen, the tearing of his flesh an icy cold lick of pain, but then it was gone. Fists pounded him in his face. Feet kicked his gut, back. He growled, tossed the men off of him like rag dolls. He grabbed the one with the knife by the hand and snapped it out. The sound of bone cracking and the man’s scream almost made him laugh. He picked up the knife, tossed it out of the alley. Oh, he’d fight, but it was going to be a man’s fight. No more weapons.
“You bald headed mother-fucker! You’re gonna pay for that!” The short man charged him and he allowed him to take him to the ground. He wanted it to be a fair fight. At least as fair as it could be. Beast against three men, he should have walked away. A fist clobbered him in the neck, stopping the air from entering his lungs. Ouch, that hurt. The line backer had some skills. He grabbed him around the neck, threw him over his shoulders and waited for the third guy.
He took Reed mid body and slammed him back to the ground, his head whacking the concrete with a thud. He blinked to shake off the dizziness. To be so thin he had power behind him as well. Reed grappled with the man. They rolled, kicked, punched. For a brief second he wondered about his companions. He had to be careful to not get so wrapped up with one that he allowed the other’s to gain points. He didn’t see them. Had they run? Wimps.
The man grabbed Reed’s arm, twisted it behind his back. Before he could counter, arms were on him, pulling him to the back of the alley out of sight of anyone who might walk or drive by. Voices, more than the three he’d heard before, yelled and screamed. Oh it was clear to him now. The others had gone for help. Now that was just great. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea.
Fists pounded in his stomach and face. He tasted blood in his mouth, felt it in his eyes. The hands loosened their grip, allowing him to drop to the ground on his hands and knees. Scrawny guy kneeled in front of him, his face so close the vile odor of his breath made Reed want to retch. His stomach reeled, however, he shook it off.
He grabbed at his Adam’s apple and lifted his face to his. “I know what you are.” His voice mumbled in Reed’s ear. “I’ve had your kind for dinner. Your women for dessert.”
“And what exactly is my kind?”
“Punks, pussies.” The man swung out and Reed allowed it to connect with his face.
My kind. How many assholes are there in the world? Reed’s heart pounded. His blood coursed through his veins. Bile tipped the back of his throat. He wanted to rip this man’s heart out, eat it for an appetizer before he savored the rest. He felt his eyes change color and smiled at the sensations blossoming in his body. Reed collected his energy and focused on his hand. He’d grown tired of this fight, bored. It was time to end it. The muscles in his hand stretched, pulled. Bones snapped, contorted and reformed. Blood leaked from under his fingernails. The growl that came from his throat was frightening to say the least.
Several of the men took a step back. Reed didn’t just stand but leapt to his feet. His motion so fast it not only startled his assailant but him as well. His hand swiped out, leaving a trail of blood to splatter his face. The man dropped like a rock, gasping and withering on the