Free American Vampire by Jennifer Armintrout

Derek stand and grab Jessa’s arm, wrenching it toward him.
    “Stop it!” Jessa shouted, pulling back, but Derek was stronger.
    Before he could realize what exactly he meant to do, Graf was on his feet, pushing through the maze of tables in the center of the floor. He willed himselfto slow down, to look less like a supernatural creature and more like a human, but it was damned difficult to do when Derek was raising his hand to smack her.
    Sure, he was planning on eating her, but that didn’t mean Graf liked to see a woman get knocked around. And he didn’t treat the ladies bad, either. They never saw it coming. Hitting a woman was a low, vulgar thing to do, and he’d be damned if he sat back and watched a punk like Derek do it.
    “I suggest you put your arm down, before I break it,” he said, and though he kept his voice low, he knew everyone in the bar had heard. Not that they needed any inducement to eavesdrop; they’d all been watching him, waiting to see what the new guy was up to.
    This was a sticky spot. If he hit Derek, would the cast of Deliverance decide they didn’t like some mysterious stranger wandering in and beating up the locals? Or would it establish a kind of grudging respect, like all those prison movies claimed?
    There was only one way to find out, and Derek wasn’t going to give him much of a choice. “Don’t tell me how to treat my woman!” he shouted drunkenly, pushing Jessa back. She stumbled backward into a table, but at least she was out of striking range of Derek’s fist.
    “Far as I can tell, Pilgrim, that’s not your woman. Your woman is at home, probably waiting for you. Why don’t you run along back there.” Pilgrim? Grafcursed his love of John Wayne movies, and prayed he still knew how to throw a decent punch. He was more of a lover than a fighter. More pertinently, he hoped that if he did land a decent hit, it wouldn’t shatter Derek’s head like a pumpkin thrown into a mailbox. That would be embarrassingly difficult to explain to all these people, and he didn’t have the energy to kill this many witnesses.
    “You son of a bitch,” Derek shouted as he lunged. He grabbed the front of Graf’s shirt and hauled him off his feet, literally wiping a nearby table with him.
    So much for worrying about not appearing weak and human enough. The inbred yokels at the tables around them scooted the chairs back and howled with laughter.
    “Don’t you ever talk about my Becky that way!” Derek warned, and while Graf tried to remember if he’d said anything derogatory about Derek’s wife, Derek got a swing in. His fist connected with Graf’s jaw, and, vampire or not, a hard punch from a strong man was not a pleasant experience.
    Graf swore and held up his hands. “I don’t want to have to hurt you,” he mumbled. That made the yokels laugh again, and Graf couldn’t blame them. He was getting his ass handed to him.
    He waited for Derek’s next swing, and ducked it, taking advantage of the human’s momentum to grab him and hurl him to the floor. When he flippedonto his back, confused at his suddenly changed perspective, Graf took a handful of Derek’s T-shirt and pulled him up as his fist shot down. Derek’s head snapped back, blood gushing from his nose.
    “Now, are you going to keep your hands off Jessa?” Graf growled, pulling his arm back again. When Derek didn’t answer, Graf punched him again.
    “Stop it!” Jessa shouted, running to pull Graf back. She shot him a dirty glare as she knelt on the floor beside Derek. “What are you trying to do, kill him?”
    “I’m trying to stick up for you!” Graf got the distinct impression that his valor was unappreciated. “Unless you want to be his punching bag?”
    “I don’t want you to make him your punching bag!” She helped Derek to his feet and pushed him toward his friends. “Get him out of here, you guys.”
    “And you best get your friend out of here, too,” June called from behind the bar. “He can come