Page 45 of The Baritone's Rival

That was a terrible idea.

He knocked her hand to the side as the next one attacked, slashing him across the face. There was sharp pain and shock as the air met his exposed flesh.

He twisted away in reaction, which ran him right into the male vampire. He struggled, but the asshole had his claws clamped down around Trent’s arms. Not good. The vampire flashed his fangs. The lamplight glinted off them.

“Stay back.” Trent pulled his arms back as hard as he could, but he was stuck. He was strong, but he was still human.

Being trapped triggered a raging torrent of memories, running through Trent’s head one after the other like an out-of-control film projector. The night he arrived at his stepfather’s coven at fourteen. Being locked in the basement by one of the punk vampires. The two days he waited for his mother to realize he was missing. Waking in the middle of the night to the cold hand of that same asshole holding him down by the shoulder. Unable to move. Unable to move.

His breathing got heavy as the images flashed through his mind’s eye. Only the growl of his captor broke the hold of the vise that squeezed in his chest.

“Maybe I’ll bring you back to the covenhouse,” the vampire said, his high cheekbones and hollow cheeks making him look more ghoul than anything else. “I’ve never had a thrall. I can put a cage in my bedroom for you.”

“Fuck you.” Trent spit in the vamp’s face, wishing that his saliva was filled with deadly venom.

“You’ll wish you didn’t.” The vampire pulled back like a cobra andstruck, pain shooting through Trent’s neck as his fangs pierced the skin. Trent’s struggle melted away as the monster drank.

His vision was clouding when he heard a high-pitched screech, followed by a roar, loud and piercing, the sound of a lion defending its young. Without a warning, the vampire was thrown from him, crashing into the nearby wall, and warm blood was trickling down his collarbone. His blood.

Oscar was moving fast. His face was a mask of fury. Trent had never seen him like that, never even imagined it was possible. His claws were fully extended, like sets of razor-sharp knives, and his movement was smooth and deadly.

Trent had lost too much blood. Consciousness was slipping away, but before he was completely gone, a final image burned into his brain.

Oscar, covered in the blood of the vampire who had attacked him, a mindless figure of rage and death. His eyes were glowing red.

Chapter 15

Oscar

Oscar hadn’t known it would be like this. He’d heard the stories, understood the theory of the crimson surge. If his mate was in mortal danger, the demon inside of him would take over, giving him a burst of power to save them. Sounded simple enough. He had thought he would havesomecontrol, some hold over what was happening.

He was wrong.

Elliott had him pinned against the refrigerator, his ex-boyfriend’s eyes bulging with exertion. Oscar could smell his breath; all smoke and rotting meat. He’d turned his head to escape the odor.

That’s when he saw the vampire sink his fangs into Trent’s perfect neck.

The room was bathed in red mist as the demon surged through his blood. His limbs moved of their own accord. He snatched one claw loose from Elliott’s grip and plunged a sharp finger into his eye.

Elliott screamed, a piercing sound of terror and pain, as his eyeball popped. Oscar was dimly aware that his legs were moving. He kicked Elliott in the chest, sending the now half-blind man tumbling to the hardwood floor.

Everything was a whirlwind then, the demon beneath his skin pulling him into a frenzy as he ripped the vampire off Trent’s neck. Oscar’s claws plunged into the vamp’s torso, cracking ribs, wrapping around the man’s cold heart, andpulling.There was a sick sound of flesh and sinew as the still-beating organ emerged from his torso.

The guy dropped to the floor. He wouldn’t recover from that.

He was on the woman now, even as she sped to her compatriot’s side, shaking his lifeless corpse. One moment, Oscar was observing from a few feet away, and the next, he held the woman’s severed head in his hands, her body lying crosswise over her partner’s.

Oscar looked down. Shock and surprise stared back at him from the woman’s face. His eyes went to Trent, who collapsed down to the couch in a full-on faint. Letting the vamp’s head fall to the ground, he sped to his side, putting his ear to Trent’s chest.

His heartbeat was there, still strong. The vampire hadn’t taken too much.

The red fog cleared from Oscar’s eyes. He had control of his body once again. He took in the destruction he had caused. Blood pooled on the cabin floor, spilling out from the bodies of the two vamps and staining the oak planks a deep maroon.

Two. Only two bodies.

Elliott was gone. He must have fled after Oscar destroyed his eye. Yet again, he should have been dead, but he wasn’t.

It didn’t matter. Oscar turned his attention back to his unconscious mate. He picked up a pillow with a red and white flannel cover from the other end of the couch and set it behind his head. He deserved to be comfortable as he recovered.

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