Oliver's Hunger
Page 2

 Tina Folsom

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He knew the dangers of drugs too well: as a human, he’d been down that road, but thanks to Samson, he’d turned around and made his way out of the hellhole it was leading him toward. He had conquered the demons once. And he was determined to do it again. But it seemed more difficult this time.
Giving up the sensations that went through his body when he fed from a human seemed like an impossible feat. Wasn’t this what it meant to be a vampire? After all, he fed to survive. Generations of vampires before him had done the same. Had they too fought with themselves every night before they went out to hunt for fresh blood?
There were still plenty of vampires who fed off humans every night. Most of the men at Scanguards seemed to be an exception, but did that mean it was wrong that he wanted something different?
“God, why?” he cursed under his breath, knowing that for tonight he’d lost the battle.
He stalked to the entrance door when he heard footsteps coming from the living room.
“Going out?” Blake’s voice cut through the silence in the home.
Oliver didn’t turn to face him even when Blake stepped into the hallway, knowing his eyes had already turned red, indicating that he was about to lose control. He was in no mood to deal with his so-called half-brother.
“What’s it to you?”
“Look at me!” Blake ordered.
“Don’t think just because Quinn and Rose asked you to keep an eye on me, you’re suddenly my keeper.” The two lovebirds had left for a belated honeymoon and traveled to Quinn’s old castle in England, but unfortunately, they had made sure Blake stayed put.
“I’m not blind, Oliver. I can see what’s going on.”
Oliver took another step toward the door. “Don’t get involved in things that you don’t understand!”
“You think I don’t understand? Hell, I’ve been around vampires long enough to know what’s happening.”
He felt Blake approach and tensed. A second later, Blake put his hand on his shoulder, and Oliver whirled around, slamming Blake against the nearest wall in a split-second, then holding him there.
“You think two months with us makes you an expert?”
He had to hand it to him: Blake didn’t flinch, even though he could crush the human with his bare hands if he wanted to.
“No, but we live here as a family. I would be totally dense if I didn’t see what you’re going through.”
Oliver snarled. “I liked you better when you were dense and clueless. Before you found out who we are.”
Blake huffed indignantly. “I was never dense and clueless! So, get your fucking paws off me, because I know you can’t hurt me.”
“Can’t I?” he taunted, even though he knew Blake was right. Quinn would have his hide. It didn’t mean he’d have to advertise that fact to Blake.
“Quinn will punish you.”
“You think you’re closer to him than I am? You think if push came to shove, he’d take your side?”
Truth be told, Oliver doubted that Quinn would take sides at all. During the short time the four had all lived together, Quinn had tried to be impartial and not interfere in the fights he and Blake seemed to have on a regular basis. Even Rose had shrugged it off, claiming there was just entirely too much testosterone in the house, and it was therefore inevitable that quarrels ensued.
Blake narrowed his eyes. “I’m his flesh and blood. As well as Rose’s.”
Oliver let out a bitter laugh. “You’ve barely got any of his blood left in you. You’re his fucking fourth great-grandson! His blood is already so diluted, I can’t even smell it on you anymore. But the blood that runs in my veins, the blood that made me into this, it’s still strong. And he knows it. I’m his son—”
Blake suddenly chuckled. “Fuck, you’re actually competing with me.”
Oliver pulled back, loosening his grip. “It’s no competition when it’s pretty clear who’ll win it.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, little brother. You might be a vampire. But don’t think you’re stronger than me.”
Oliver couldn’t help himself, but he had to cut Blake down a bit before he got too self confident. “You weren’t talking like that when I bit you.”
Instantly, Blake’s face reddened like a ripe tomato and his chest puffed up. Yes, he could still push the punk’s buttons whenever he wanted to.
With more force than he had expected, Blake pushed him off, freeing himself. Then he jabbed his index finger into Oliver’s chest.