His jaw clenching in concert with the tension in his body, Zane pounded his claws into the man, but he got as good as he gave. The attacker’s claws were sharp and relentless, and only now Zane noticed that the intruder’s hands were covered in cutoff gloves, protecting his palms while allowing his claws to emerge.
“Shit!” Zane cursed.
A nasty grin flashed on the hybrid’s face and disappeared just as quickly as he continued to use his claws against Zane. Despite his average size, he matched Zane in strength and ferocity, dealing blow after blow without showing any outward signs of exhaustion.
Zane drew his arm back to prepare for a strike when a kick into his kneecap temporarily halted his movements while he tried to absorb the pain. In the next instant, he felt a searing sensation on the front of his neck, followed by the smell of burnt flesh and body hair rising into his nose. Silver! Zane recoiled from the pain and toppled backwards. The action sent him careening to the floor.
His attacker landed on him. With his glove-clad hands, he pressed a silver chain against Zane’s neck. Zane fought for air, his hands instinctively coming up to his neck, trying to pry the silver away from his skin.
“Finally got you,” the assassin bit out.
Zane recognized an accent, most likely South American in origin, even as he fought against the silver’s effect. As it was the only metal that could injure or kill a vampire, he feared silver as much as the next vampire, but even though the pain was excruciating and incapacitating, Zane knew he couldn’t give up. He wasn’t ready to die.
His fingers singed when he touched the chain, but he continued nevertheless, ignoring the taunting grin on the stranger’s face. “Murderer! You’ll pay today!”
Not if he could help it. Zane kicked his legs against the asshole that held him down, but with his energy quickly draining from his body as the effect of the silver intensified, his kicks had no more effect than the frantic yapping of his dog.
His eyes darted toward the animal, but there was no help to be expected from it. Maybe if he’d had a fully grown dog who was trained to fight, but Z was more likely to lick the guy to death than bite him.
“Wait until Müller finds out I found you. Now I’ll get my reward,” the assassin announced and lifted his torso, reaching into his jacket with one hand as he pressed the silver chain against Zane’s neck with the other.
Zane wasn’t surprised that the intruder had been sent by Müller. Sooner or later, it had to be expected. But he couldn’t allow the bastard to win.
Zane removed his hands from the burning metal, unable to stand the pain any longer and reached above his head for anything he could use as a weapon. His fingers encountered a cold, wet cloth, and he gripped it. Just as the attacker’s hand emerged with a stake, Zane flung the cloth into his face: it was the same he’d used to clean up the dog’s shit.
As the poop-covered towel hit the hybrid’s face, the hand on the chain loosened for a short moment. It was enough for Zane to jerk it from his neck, freeing himself.
The assassin yanked the towel from his face, just as Zane swiped his claws across it, ripping open his left cheek. The half-vampire howled, and Zane tossed him off, slamming him against the stove.
Zane scrambled to his feet and jumped, kicking both his feet into the stranger’s chest. As several ribs cracked, his opponent picked himself up and, murderous intent in his eyes and dog shit on his cheeks, blindly barreled toward Zane.
Zane snarled and sidestepped him. Now he had the upper hand: his enemy was pissed, and it made him an emotional fighter who didn’t think.
“Your time to die,” Zane whispered behind the intruder’s back and jumped onto him, locking his head in a vice grip. The stake still in his right hand, the attacker tried to twist, but Zane tightened his grip like a noose at the same time that he kicked into the back of his knees, making him collapse.
“Fucking bastard!” the guy pressed out, his hands flailing.
Zane’s eyes swept over the kitchen to find where the silver chain had landed. Keeping his opponent’s head lodged in his arm hold, Zane pushed him ahead of him. He snatched a towel from the counter and wrapped it around his damaged palm, covering as much of the surface as possible. Then he forced his prisoner to his knees and picked up the chain with his towel-covered hand.
As he kicked the assassin facedown, Zane released his arm hold and wrapped the chain around his neck, twisting it into a knot at the nape. “See, that’s how it’s done right.”
The hybrid screamed in agony as his flesh burned. His attempts to remove the chain were futile. Zane now used both his hands with the towel as a barrier against the silver to hold the chain tightly around his neck. The stake dropped from the assassin’s hand.