Oliver's Hunger - By Tina Folsom Page 0,56

floor of the room was dead. Her throat had been ripped out, and it was evident that a vampire had savagely fed from her, then finished her off with his claws. As if he’d been angry. No, not just angry: furious! He’d wanted to punish the girl for something.

Her almond-shaped eyes were open, still staring at him in horror. Proof enough that the vampire who’d done this hadn’t bothered using mind control so she wouldn’t realize what he was doing. The poor girl had known what was happening to her.

Cain turned away from the bloody scene and surveyed the room for any sign that could lead him to the vampire who’d done this. Instinctively he knew there would be none. He’d come too late.

He dropped his head when he noticed a small ray of light coming from under one of the mirrored panels. He walked toward it. There was no image in the mirror—even though he was used to it, it still startled him from time to time, making him wonder whether he truly existed, or whether he was only a shadow of his own imagination. Shaking off the wayward thought, he ran his hands along the mirror, searching for any indentations or hooks that might allow him to get behind it. There were no latches, but when he pressed against the panel, it moved away from the wall, revealing another room behind it, by the looks of it a storage room.

A figure jumped at him, the movement a blur, but Cain’s reaction was instantaneous. He slammed his body against the attacker, whom he recognized as a vampire. The stench of blood still clung to him, and he was broader than Cain and a little heavier. Cain landed a right hook under his chin, whipping his attacker’s head back, then followed it up with a balled fist against his windpipe, then a kick against his thigh.

But the guy didn’t buckle as easily as other opponents had before him.

“Shit!”

The vampire shot him a nasty grin. “Better blood!”

Momentarily distracted by the odd comment, Cain couldn’t avoid the hit to his neck that slammed him against the storage unit on one wall. Pain whipped through him, but it was only momentary. He pulled himself up immediately and was thus able to evade the next blow. Cain jumped to the side, kicking his attacker in the hip, catapulting him against the opposite wall.

“Fucking murderer!” he cursed, glaring at the jerk.

The vampire growled, narrowing his eyes as he prepared for a counterattack. “She didn’t have the right blood! Bitch deserved it!”

The crazy vampire was clearly delirious, his mumblings not making any sense. Bloodlust was written all over him: his breathing was ragged, his eyes bloodshot, saliva dripping from his mouth as from a rabid dog. Unfortunately, another thing was true too: like other vampires in bloodlust, he seemed stronger and more ferocious.

As they fought, trading blows, kicks, and hits, Cain frantically looked for any weapons he could use to subdue his opponent without killing him. He had a stake in his jacket pocket, but he wasn’t going to use it. Zane’s order had been to take the crazy vampires they’d been hunting alive. If they could capture one alive, they would have a chance of figuring out what was going on.

With his next blow, the rogue vampire swiped Cain’s neck with his claws. Blood ran from the stinging cuts.

Fury charged through him, and he pushed back, pulling up his knee and driving it into the guy’s nuts. As his torso folded over, Cain kicked upwards once more, sending him against the cabinet behind him, making the supplies on it rattle and the items stacked in the shelves fall out.

Cain pinned him against the shelving unit, his arm across his opponent’s neck. “Gotcha!”

The rogue’s eyes danced first to the left then to the right, his arms reaching out. “No you don’t!”

When his attacker’s arm pulled forward, Cain saw him holding a piece of wood.

“Shit!”

Releasing the guy’s neck, Cain reached into his pocket in the same instant as he made a half-turn getting out of the way of the swinging arm that held the makeshift stake. Palming his own stake now, he completed the turn and slammed it into the guy’s chest.

Noise behind him made him turn on his heels, while his opponent disintegrated into dust. He raised his stake, ready to attack whoever had entered, when he sighed in relief.

“Thomas,” he breathed. “About time!”

Next to Thomas, Eddie popped his head into the room. “Sorry, there was

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