Mine, Bitten

Chapter Twenty-Six

Varian

            It was foolhardy; he knew that much, walking straight into the snare to receive the bait and what made the level of foolishness tenfold was the undeniable hunger heightening with every inhale of air laced with her blood.

            Her blood had such a magnetic pull on him; he couldn't deny it even if he tried.

            He risked centuries of evading the Scientist to retrieve her.

            Talon was right-what the hell was he doing? He didn't have a plan-simply strolling right through the doors with the mentality of pummeling every bastard that came his way wasn't exactly a well-advised, strategic plan-he grinned, but it was a satisfying notion.

            He felt the length of his fangs, pushing at his gums, piercing the insides of his mouth, the tips throbbing to puncture the sweet throat that beckoned him.

            He growled low in his throat, struggling to fight the yearning that came with the extended canines.

            Damn. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. He wouldn't reconsider involving Talon-it wasn't his fight, aside from that, he wouldn't endanger another of his kind when he had struggled for centuries to keep them hidden from the Scientist-all his efforts would be for nothing.

             The hunger grew with each step that brought him closer to her-instead of giving into the blood-lust that seared within; he channeled the compulsion, using the intolerable urge to his advantage, and directing all that intensity to his intended targets that greeted him inside.

            A grin pulled at his mouth. Ah, game.

            He leveled a hard, calculating glare, studying each individually.

            Just three?

He was slightly insulted.

            His nostrils flared, detecting a peculiar, odor.

            He frowned-garlic- and shook his head at the absurdity of it

            It would have no real effect on him.

            He could smell their fear; it was as pungent and distasteful as the garlic.

            The taller of three, standing exact in the middle, pulled a tranquilizer gun from his belt, aiming it directly at his chest. Damn he hated those.

            "Stay right there, blood-sucker!"

            Varian smirked-eying the three a little more closely, clearly the middle-man had gall, the one to the outer-left fidgeted too much, betraying his anxiousness, the one to the far-right was antsy, but not nearly on flee-mode as the latter.

            'Antsy-right' pulled another t-gun and Varian was keen to note the slight trembling in his hands as he pointed it.

            The smell of fear intensified, his only warning, and with that, he shifted his body just as two tranquilizer darts whizzed by him.

            This propelled him forward, moving with such abruptness that he rendered his intended momentarily stunned.

            He swiped the gun from the middle-man, wheeling around to send a powerful blow to the man on his right, throwing him to the air.