Family is What You Make of It
The still hunter stared down at the caravan slowly trundling past, human slaves pulling carts piled high with boxes, lower caste Upyr servants walking next to them. A ring of lax guards escorted them, warriors in lacquered wood and waxed leather armor, half focused on the perimeter, half eyeing the humans with carefully disguised hunger. No matter how they tried to hide their lust for flesh, Wolfgang knew they only stayed their blades because someone higher up the food chain owned every ounce. He raised his hand, exposing pale skin from under the dark cloak then flicked a finger forward. Shrieking loudly, shadows dropped from above landing on or near the guards, denying them effective use of bows.
Wolfgang leaped from the thick branch into the largest group clustered near the main wagon, sharp blades and sharper teeth finding exposed skin, openings in the protection. The guards, not wholly inexperienced, rallied quickly. The vampire, already spattered with Upyr blood from a few precise hits, laughed uproariously as they tried to work together to take him down. He danced to avoid thrusts and slashes then lunged in to latch onto one hapless fool who let down his guard. He spun his victim then stabbed deep with his long dagger, his mouth wide to bite hard on his throat then ripped it open, spraying blood everywhere. He shoved the dying man towards his fellows, fouling their attacks as the screaming guard blocked their blades before falling senseless to the ground.
Half lost in battle lust and focused on the four opponents in front of him, he did not see or hear the approach of a fifth behind him. A loud shout of warning and the sound of pottery breaking drew his attention briefly. A tall, brunette male, well-formed but obviously a slave judging by the chains chaffing his wrists, stared at him wide-eyed as he stood over the motionless body of another Upyr warrior, the rim of a broken vase gripped in strong fingers. If Wolfgang had still breathed, the beauty of the man would have stolen his breath away. Nodding briefly, he turned back to the battle and waded into the squad, bobbing and weaving, tangling their blows. He handily dispatched the remaining members of the squad.
“No!”
The king turned again and found the man pressed up against the side of the cart he had been pulling, one of his own hunters crowded into the males space, gripping his longish hair and opening jaws wide over his exposed neck. The slave trembled with fear but defiantly raised the pottery shard to slash across the vampires face, trying to push him away at the same time. The hunter hissed and raised a fist. Wolfgangs hand shot out and caught it as it descended then blinked, his mouth slightly open in shock and confusion. He had no intention of moving, of interfering in a hunters prerogative and yet he had not only closed the distance in the space of a human heartbeat, his fingers were like steel around the other vampires wrist. Growling in warning, he yanked his fighter away from the male and stepped in between them.
“Mine.”
With a hiss and a brief nod of his head, the other vampire spun on his heel and called out to his fellows clustered around another group of humans. “Save me some!” Wolfgang could feel the heat rising off the human behind him, the scent of his sweet sweat invaded his nostrils... intoxicating. He could hear the fear and adrenaline driving the strong heart. Fangs descending, he turned to take his prize and was again surprised. Rather than cower in fear or attempt to fight, the human had dropped his makeshift weapon and had stepped closer to him, his long fingers pulling his shirt away from his neck and muscular shoulder, exposing the vulnerable artery. He stood there, trembling in fear but defiant.
“T-turn me... please.” The brunette bit his own lip to try and stop the flood of words and failed. “I... I want to make them pay! I want to make them all pay!”
