01-11-2015, 05:44 PM
((Sure if you like! We could use more vampires! Also Red, I love that you've apparently read the books! ))
Tyson had plenty of strength---the Omega tended to select for that, that and pure sociopathy---but what he lacked was fangs. Wrath's could extend longer than a tiger's, and he bit into and through that cold clammy hand as it tried to lock around his throat. Yes, he'd pay for it with a mouthful of toxic ichor leaking from Tyson's wound, but it should be enough to at least break his concentration enough that he could flip him, and get him chained up and possibly gagged. Then it would be a fairly simple matter of getting Butch to come by with the Land Rover and hustle him in, get him shuttled off to the underground compound that would be his new home. The tunnels underneath the Brotherhood's compound were even getting new additions put in by a fleet of laborer-doggen---a minor warren of holding cells specially lined with steel spikes so the sluts inside wouldn't risk throwing themselves at the walls and potentially losing their babies, a guarded nursery and maternity clinic, even special rooms just for fucking. All to house this slut and whatever future bretherin they were able to catch for him.
Crowing delightedly, Rhage followed Reed down, flipping him expertly over and snapping the restraints in place. Zipties and steel at wrists and ankles; no sense risking them breaking out. He paused a moment and whipped off his shirt beneath his leather jacket and stuffed it in Reed's mouth. "Stay," he told him, as one might a misbehaving dog. Then he lunged into the fight against Tyson.
Tyson had plenty of strength---the Omega tended to select for that, that and pure sociopathy---but what he lacked was fangs. Wrath's could extend longer than a tiger's, and he bit into and through that cold clammy hand as it tried to lock around his throat. Yes, he'd pay for it with a mouthful of toxic ichor leaking from Tyson's wound, but it should be enough to at least break his concentration enough that he could flip him, and get him chained up and possibly gagged. Then it would be a fairly simple matter of getting Butch to come by with the Land Rover and hustle him in, get him shuttled off to the underground compound that would be his new home. The tunnels underneath the Brotherhood's compound were even getting new additions put in by a fleet of laborer-doggen---a minor warren of holding cells specially lined with steel spikes so the sluts inside wouldn't risk throwing themselves at the walls and potentially losing their babies, a guarded nursery and maternity clinic, even special rooms just for fucking. All to house this slut and whatever future bretherin they were able to catch for him.
Crowing delightedly, Rhage followed Reed down, flipping him expertly over and snapping the restraints in place. Zipties and steel at wrists and ankles; no sense risking them breaking out. He paused a moment and whipped off his shirt beneath his leather jacket and stuffed it in Reed's mouth. "Stay," he told him, as one might a misbehaving dog. Then he lunged into the fight against Tyson.