Vengeance (The Captive #6)(37)
Another one came from the left, rushing at them out of the snow and honing in on Tempest. William threw the bow over his back and yanked a stake free as the creature’s hands seized hold of her arms. The blood filling the air had nothing to do with the bodies in the snow, and everything to do with the flesh of her forearms being torn open by the creature.
Red burst before his vision, turning the world into an entirely different hue. A roar tore from him. The complete unraveling into a bloodthirsty creature he’d endured a few times after being turned, took him over. Then, he’d unraveled because he’d let his hunger and anger get out of control; Aria had been able to help calm him with blood bags and by talking calmly with him. Now, death was the only thing that would calm the beast raging within him as he sought to destroy the thing hurting her in such a way.
His ears rang; saliva filled his mouth as bloodlust pulsed through him. His arm slid around Tempest’s waist, he pulled her back as the creature’s nails tore fresh gouges into her arms. Crimson blood stained the snow, but he couldn’t tell the difference between her blood and the haze coating his vision. He swung out with the hand holding the stake, slicing across the creature’s cheek as it lunged toward Tempest with its fangs fully extended.
The torn cheek fell open to reveal the jawbone and teeth beneath, but it didn’t slow him as his fangs snapped at Tempest. The sliced flesh flapped in the wind, the sight of it would have been almost comical if he hadn’t been so infuriated. He pulled back on Tempest, but the creature kept hold of her in some kind of crazy tug-o-war that spilled more of her blood and caused a cry of pain to escape her.
William leapt forward, swinging his elbow out and smashing it across the starving vamp’s face. It released a mewl when its sliced cheek was smashed up against its teeth and jawbone. Its hands slipped on Tempest but it still didn’t release her. Its ruby red eyes glowed, and William would bet money his eyes were the same color as the creature’s. He grabbed hold of the vamp’s head and yanked it to the side. Without thinking, he sank his fangs deep into its neck.
Blood sprayed into his mouth, it tasted worse than the pinecones he’d eaten one lean winter in the forest, but he didn’t release his bite. The creature howled, its fingers tore into the flesh of his arms, but he barely felt the rending of his skin. William ripped backward, tearing out the thing’s neck. He spat the fetid flesh and blood into the snow before driving his fist into the vampire’s nose. It caved beneath the force of the blow, but the vamp continued to claw at Tempest.
Letting him go, William adjusted his hold on the stake and swung it forward, driving it deep into the center of the thing’s chest. With a ferocious snarl, he gave the stake a savage twist and pushed it upward. Bone and cartilage broke as he shoved the stake through the vamp’s ribcage until it pierced its heart. The vampire finally released his hold on Tempest. It staggered backward in the snow, clawing at the stake protruding from its chest.
William’s chest heaved; his fangs throbbed with the urge to destroy more as he stood over the body of his victim. A hand rested on his arm, he almost turned to snap at it or to drive his stake into whoever had touched him, but he recognized the warmth of Tempest’s touch before he could turn on her like a rabid animal.
His shoulders relaxed, he inhaled a shaky breath as he labored to regain the rest of his composure. “Are you ok?” he inquired, keeping his head turned away from her so she couldn’t see the thin grasp he had over his control.
“Yes,” she replied. “They’re only scratches.”
He wanted to turn and make sure of that for himself, but he couldn’t let her see him like this. Warm blood ran from his mouth, down his neck, and cracked as it dried in the bristles of his beard. Bending down, he grabbed handfuls of snow and scrubbed at his face and neck to remove the evidence of his insanity. He didn’t rise until the snow he used to clean himself remained completely white.
Turning toward her, he braced himself for her condemnation and revulsion before looking at her. He knew what he’d done pushed the lines of what was acceptable to vampires, but then he sometimes forgot he was a vampire. He’d reacted on instinct and an overwhelming urge to make sure she stayed alive and unharmed.
Snow covered her hair, turning it nearly white. Her cheeks and nose were red from the wind and cold, her brown eyes vibrant against the snow coating her. He saw no disgust in her gaze, only concern as her eyes ran over him.
“Are you ok?” she asked and reached toward him.
Before she could touch his blood stained clothes, he clasped hold of her wrists. Pulling her arms forward, he held them out to inspect them. The shredded sleeves of her shirt flapped in the wind, beads of blood still formed on her flesh, but the gashes had healed to scratches now.
Reassured she was fine, and he was in control again, he lifted his head to look into her eyes. They shone with concern as they met his. He didn’t deserve her concern; she didn’t deserve any of this. She’d endured difficult times, but she was practically an innocent in the brutality of the world. He’d spent his entire life learning how to become a killer, and he was good at it.
She should have been able to keep her innocence, but the vampires who had invaded her town had taken that choice from her. Now all he could hope was to keep as much of the brutality from her as possible.
He brushed the snow from the hood of her cloak before tugging it over her head. Turning away, he jerked the stake from the one he’d just killed before collecting the arrows from the others. He studied the swirling snow but didn’t see anything else out there, hunting them.