Big Bad Wolfie

84) Friends With Heroes

I can tell we're wearing him down.

  I know that because he pulled out new daggers, but these were different.

They're curved, almost hook like, and black and shiny. Glistening with their deadly poison overcoat. They were attached to him with laces up his arms so his hands and claws were still useful.

My heightened vision zeroed in on the new, especially deadly weapons, and they glared back.

My fangs grew even further out of my gums instinctually, as my senses registered the new threat.

"Get back!" I told the group. "They're poisoned. If you get one cut you're dead."

  They all held their ground, poised to attack.

  Stupid idiots.

  Why do I make friends with heroes? They always pull sh*t like this.

  I'm aware I'm a hypocrite. You don't have to tell me. Just let me complain.

They kept fighting, Wolfie and happy changing into their wolf forms to try a new angle. I tried to take the brunt of the attacks because of my tolerance to the poison.

About time I make up for totally freezing and being useless for the first half of the fight.

It became less of a fight and more of everyone dancing around the blades to avoid imminent death.

Which I would definitely prefer.

I, on the other hand, got a little more ballsy with my advances.

The more danger that comes near my friends, the more the fire that the bomb left inside me flares.

My talent became less of a warning instinct in the back of my head to stay away from the threat, and more of a gnawing need to attack and extinguish the threat from existence.

My morals are out the window as I sliced his warrior's knife across his stomach while he was distracted with stopping Marco from pulling out a gun.

He was successful, but One hand flew to the bleeding wound while his other one shot out return the favor.

He's getting frantic.

I grabbed his arm before he could make contact and used his momentum to flip him on his back. In a frenzy myself, I re-gripped the knife and tried to stab it into his eye.

Preferably multiple times.

But that didn't happen.

He reached one arm up to stop the murder weapon from piercing his eye.

  Buzz kill.

  And the other shot out towards my neck to tear me off of himself, but I sunk my teeth into the flesh of his hand before he could reach me.

  I crunched my jaw down hard until I heard the bones in his hand crack under my fangs.

He roared, and his grip on my stabbing hand loosened.

Big mistake.

Not as big as attacking my friends, but it opened me up to shove it down further.

I missed his eye, but I managed to cut through the skin on his cheek.

I watched the blood leak out like dark sludge. My gums pulsed with the impulse to feed now that I get to see it so up close and personal.

Not because I'm hungry, but because I want to feed from my enemy. To take something from him and use it for my own good.