snarl to reveal hideous teeth, pointed and black, stained with the blood of the many lives he had taken. He stroked the air beneath his hands, as if petting an invisible creature, his nails daggerlike, each stroke precise.
“Foolish upstarts. They are so busy fighting over the scrap of a meal, they failed to notice the prize they had.” When he spoke, Drago growled each word, just as precisely as the movements of his hand.
“But you did,” Zacarias said gently. His cool eyes continued to sweep their surroundings. Drago would never confront him so calmly unless he thought he had the advantage.
Behind them, Dominic was very aware of the second vampire on the scene, but around him, tentacles burst through the ground, running along the floor of the forest, seeking prey. He heaved the vampire off him, rolling on top, slamming the rotting face into the ground among the tentacles, even as his fist pushed through the mass of writhing parasites to get at the heart.
Tentacles immediately circled the vampire’s neck and skull; more pulled at his legs and arms in an attempt to drag him underground. Dominic’s fingertips reached the cold, withered heart. The undead shrieked and redoubled his efforts to throw Dominic off him. The absolute silence of the hunter was unnerving. The vampire had no idea whether Dominic was one of his fellow recruits for the masters , as his parasitic blood indicated, or whether he was a highly-skilled hunter, as his earlier commands indicated. Dominic had invoked the name of the prince, something no vampire would ever do.
Dominic’s fingers burrowed around the blackened organ, feeling more parasites wriggle against his palm as he enclosed the prize in his fist and began to extract it from the vampire’s body. The tentacles fought him for possession. Overhead, lightning forked in readiness. Thunder rolled ominously. The sound was horrendous, the sucking of the undead’s acid blood trying desperately to hold on to the heart, the high-pitched shrieking of the vampire and the wail of the parasites already spilling out of the body, abandoning their host.
The tentacles frantically jerked at the undead in an effort to draw him beneath the earth, out of Dominic’s reach, but Dominic rose, the heart in his fist, dripping parasites and acid onto the ground as he leapt away, commanding the lightning. The bolt slammed into the body before the tentacles could save it. He tossed the heart into the white-hot blaze and directed the energy across the blackened ground until every tentacle and every parasite was incinerated. His arm and hand burned, the flesh nearly eaten away down to the bone. He rinsed his flesh in the edges of the light to take off the blood and kill any remaining parasites that might have gotten on his skin.
Deep inside his body, in the veins and organs, the parasites rushed to hide from the blinding heat, giving him, for one moment, a reprieve from the constant agonizing torture. Never once did he allow his appearance to change from his vampire persona to that of a Carpathian hunter. Only when he was finished did he look up to meet Drago’s eyes. He snarled, pulling back thin lips to reveal serrated, bloodstained teeth, his growl a challenge.
“That is my food you are toying with,” he snapped and strode through the trees to put his body between Zacarias and the new threat.
He knows who I am, Zacarias warned. He would never openly challenge me if he did not have some nasty little surprise up his sleeve.
“You have no idea who this is,” Drago snarled. “He is a prize beyond compare.”
“I remember you from the old days,” Dominic prodded. “Drago, a whining, sniveling coward. You always disappeared in a battle.”
Drago smirked. “I managed to live another day while so many others fell.”
Dominic studied his enemy. Drago’s hand continued those precise strokes, down low, close to his hip, as if he might be petting a dog. His tone had a strange cadence, each
The Cowboy's Surprise Bride