From my current editing project, Christian’s Kisses Book 3.
Warning: This scene contains graphic content.
FYI for new readers: Carver is a vampire hunter that Christian turned into a vampire as revenge for killing a group of his vampires. Vampires can go “rabid” when starved-which happens in this scene.
Darien tossed the hunter down on the cold stone floor and planted a swift kick in his stomach.
The impact woke Carver, and he slowly opened his eyes. He could hear muffled voices and the sound of Master Vallore’s laughter. From his angle, he could only see the expensive leather shoes of the vampire standing in front of him.
“Feeling hungry?” Master Vallore grabbed a chunk of Carver’s hair, lifting up his head. “I will take great delight in watching you feast on your hunters.” He slammed Carver’s head back down, kicking him in the mouth before walking away.
Carver winced in pain, holding his mouth as tears came unwilling to his eyes. His whole body ached, an intense hunger burning in his chest. He could smell blood, and his head slowly picked up off the floor as he watched Master Vallore and Darien cut his men so they would bleed.
“Here—a parting gift from your Master.” Master Vallore gazed at the bloodied knife in his hand, the harsh lighting in the small room reflecting off its surface. “You are a hunter so you should kill like one.” He tossed the weapon in Carver’s direction, the blade sliding across the floor and spinning in a quick circle in front of Carver’s eyes. Standing in the doorway, a low, sinister laugh escaped Christian’s upturned lips. “Happy hunting.”
Master Vallore and his Elites left the room, the sound of the door slamming deafening. The muffled whines from Carver’s wounded hunters echoed in his head and stung his ears.
He lay on the floor for a few more minutes, every noise magnified as he felt the heavy pulse of his blood pumping through his body. His mouth quivered as he looked forward and uncontrollably licked his lips.
There was a small river of blood snaking its way toward him. The tease was intense, with every inch the blood drew closer, the wider Carver’s eyes opened, his pupils fully dilated. He was trying to resist the temptation, but the drive to kill was stronger than his own will.
Master Vallore had made him into something he despised, something that he could never get away from. Breathing heavily, he began to hyperventilate, the blood trail getting closer as it made its way down the sloped floor that led to the drain Carver was laying on.
Closing his eyes as he gritted his broken teeth, the excruciating pain of his action almost out shadowed his need to feed. But then, the small stream of blood hit his cheek, its gentle kiss warm and thick. Carver’s eyes shot open, his nostrils flaring, his intense hunger shoving aside his sanity and waking the monster within.
He reached a shaky hand out in front of him, his fingers grabbing frantically at the knife. After a few swipes, he caught it. He held it in a tightly clenched fist. Gathering a burst of inhuman strength, he rose to his feet, his slow eyes following the path that tempted him to its source.
Carver appeared before a bleeding hunter. He slammed his hands onto the stone wall forcefully before licking the hunter’s bleeding face. He slowly let his tongue glide over the dirty skin, the man cowering under him and begging him to stop. Carver’s lip quivered, the taste greater than anything he had ever ingested. Breathing heavily, Carver’s hungry eyes gazed distantly into the hunter’s.
“Stop!” The hunter screamed, pulling angrily at the chains that tied him to the wall. “Don’t do this! Resist—”
With an artful swipe of his hand, Carver sliced the hunter’s neck, releasing a fountain of blood that covered his skin. He lapped at the fast flowing wound like a thirsty dog, but wasn’t able to satisfy the hunger.
The taste drove Carver mad, and he ran to his other hunters, slashing at them furiously with his knife. He had lost himself to the hunger, now becoming what he hated. Master Vallore had gotten his revenge—a torturous end to a hunter that dared to wrong the great Master.