SWEET BLOOD
Without touching the bastard, using only his will and a flare of savage anger, James threw the Hunter against the far wall and held him there, two hundred and fifty pounds of thrashing, feral vampire suspended three feet off the ground.
He saw the hunger in Hunter's eyes, those slitted pupils fixed on Grace, even though James was tightening his mental hold around the buckhead's throat, killing him by degrees. The long fangs were dripping saliva, the mind inside the huge skull no longer capable of any thought besides feeding the thirst. Now he knew, they were not just ordinary hunters. They were almost like vampires, but feral. "Damn it!" He grumbled. If his assumption was right, then it was
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