Suddenly, however, someone grabbed her throat and slammed her hard against the wall, the impact of which would have knocked out a lesser being. Instead Thea shook off the confusion and glared into the face of the vampire she’d been dancing with. Her neck was clasped in his strong hand as he held her suspended above the ground.
The son of a bitch was fast and strong. He had to be pretty freaking old to rip her out of her top running speed.
Goodie for me, she huffed.
His grip tightened around her neck and although uncomfortable, it didn’t elicit the panic he was hoping for. Instead Thea grabbed his wrist and twisted with all her might, the answering crack extremely satisfying.
The vampire dropped her with a roar, and she darted by him only to encounter his companions. They were on her before she could run. Ducking and diving their punches and kicks, Thea blocked where she could and swiped one off his feet. As much as she was holding her own against the bastards, they were pushing her farther and farther away from the entrance.
Finding a gap in their attack, she dove between two of them and tumbled into a roll, shooting up onto her feet and into a run, eyes to the door—
His leg came out of nowhere.
A roundhouse kick to her chest.
She heard something crack, she couldn’t breathe, and it wasn’t because she was soaring through the air like a fucking bird. Pain cracked up her spine and her neck rolled before she was grounded again.
As quickly as she hadn’t been able to breathe, air flooded her lungs, and the pain dissipated. She got to her feet on shaky legs, realizing the vampire she’d danced with had kicked her as if she were merely a football, and she’d hurtled through the air and slammed into the edge of the stage.
Outraged by his show of strength, unnerved even, Thea fell into a defensive stance, glaring at him as he moved through his vampire friends. She’d picked up most of what she knew about other supernaturals during her time with Ashforth, since the man was obsessed with the paranormal. She’d met her first vampire at Ashforth’s and from him, she’d learned that the older a vampire was, the stronger they were.
This guy had momentarily collapsed Thea’s lung. With a mere kick to the chest.
So, he was old.
He cocked his head, eyes narrowed on her chest. “I heard the damage … now I hear nothing. You healed instantly. What are you?”
“I’m out of here.” She saw an exit door off the right side of the old stage and made a feint toward it. They chased and Thea leapt with the grace of a cat; she pushed her feet off one of the galleria pillars, using the height to jump over their heads in the opposite direction. Her landing was just as graceful, but two of the vampires ruined the suaveness of the entire maneuver by catching her. They pulled her into a brutal fight, growing more and more frustrated that she was landing hits while they failed to.
Becoming impatient, Thea sought to end it, to incapacitate, and so she snapped the neck of one of the vampires, knocking him out cold.
“Oh, you’re dead now, little girl,” the other vampire threatened. “We will fuck you up and have a lot of fun doing it. Ever been tortured? You will not like it, I assure you.”
Memories flooded Thea at the threat.
Nightmares that unfortunately were real.
And just like that, the savagery of survival instinct took over. First, she disoriented him, moving this way and that until his back was to her. Then she leapt with a light grace onto the top of a theater chair and used it to propel her onto the vampire’s back. Before he could even react, she punched her fist through his back with every ounce of supernatural strength within her, gripped tight to his heart, and ripped.
The hot muscle in her hand crumbled to ashes seconds before his entire body obliterated into dust. Thea dropped to her feet as the three remaining vampires stared at her in mounting rage.
Three blurry streaks sped toward her, surrounding her so she couldn’t find a way out. Outrage and fear flooded her as she found herself captured by two of the vampires. They held fast to her wrists, holding her outstretched. As much as she strained, she couldn’t detach them. Her original hunter stepped toward her, his eyes pure silver.
“It was never stipulated whether I was to keep you alive,” he snarled. “So, you’re dead now, bitch.”
It was difficult for Thea to feel anything approaching the word agony. Pain, yes. Agony, not so much. Ashforth was the only one who seemed to know how to inflict it.
But until that point, no one had come close to hurting her like he had.