Bound (A Faery Story 1)

they needed to. When fighting a vampire, Beck knew it was more

important to rely on his fighting instincts than his eyes. Sometimes a

vamp could move faster than the eye could track. It came down to

anticipating the next move. Vampires were immensely logical

creatures. They trained and tended to do everything by the book. It

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was why Dante had trouble fitting in. Dante thought more creatively.

In this case, the vampires’ slavish devotion to the method came in

handy.

In his mind, Beck numbered them One through Fifteen. Eight had

tumbled straight into Two across the ring the vampires had formed.

Both were struggling to get to their feet. It gave Beck a chance to

concentrate on the next assault. It would come from Twelve and Five.

Beck thrust out with his sword, catching Twelve in the belly as he

kicked out in perfect precision, shoving Five back. He twisted his

body slightly to take out Ten and Three in the same fashion.

Instinct took over as his sword bloodied. He no longer thought

about Meg or Dante or even Cian. He and the sword moved in perfect

precision. The blade became a simple extension of his being. Beck

relaxed, letting his hearing confirm the order in which his brain told

him they would attack. He danced as they attacked, his sword finding

purchase in their strong bodies. Every time he sank the steel into

another body, his hunger grew. He wanted to kill. The horn blared,

calling an end to this round of fighting. It was an intrusive sound.

Beck breathed deeply, fighting the instinct to attack the little

gnomes as they ran onto the field to pull off the injured competitors

who called for quarter. He wanted to skewer the little ones. They

would look good on his blade, the dark voice in his head whispered. It was their fault. They had walked onto his killing field. They should expect death. They were dragging off his prey before he even had a

chance to finish them. It was his right. He turned to raise his sword