Page 118 of Moretti Blood Brothers: Vol. Two Books 5-7

C allan crouched by the edge of the water line and splashed his face. Scrubbing, he tried to wash away everything.

Every fucking thing.

The confusion, the memories, the pain.

He was different now. Nobody would remain unchanged after what he’d been through, but it wasn’t just that. They had changed him.

They had fucking changed him in ways even he didn’t understand.

Without this permission.

Like he was nothing more than a lab rat to cut, prick, take from and put shit in.

Whatever they’d done to him, he was changed. He could feel it in every cell of his body.

What had they fucking done to him?

Callan threw back his head and screamed.

Out here in the woods, nobody could hear him. He assumed. Actually, he didn’t give a fuck.

That wasn’t completely true. He did care.

He cared that he could hurt someone. As a vampire, he’d been taught to curb his bloodlust and ensure he was always fed. They all were. Their parents taught them these skills from the moment they were born and able to comprehend. It was how they lived peacefully amongst humans.

Which they all wanted.

Right now Callan was wavering in that belief. He knew there was good and evil in the world in all species, but those motherfucking scientists had starved him, then given him fresh blood to gorge on, then starved him.

Rinse and repeat. Over and fucking over again until his natural predatory instincts began to rise.

That was just one of the cruel and disgusting things he’d endured for months, but his mind couldn’t focus on it all or he’d go insane.

Right now, his focus was on retraining his body and mind so he could gain some equilibrium. He craved the blood lust while knowing it was dangerous. For him and those around him. The need to sink his fangs and cock into those who appealed to him was overwhelming.

He’d had a powerful sex drive before and it was getting even stronger. Some days he could barely look at the thing between his legs, recalling the way the scientist had run his hand up and down his shaft, until he was hard, and he eventually came.

The sick fucker.

He’d been restrained by Tungsten cuffs and straps. While he’d kicked and struggled the first few times, in the end he’d just let them jerk him off. It was just another bodily fluid they were taking so what the fuck did it matter?

His pride was shot to death at that point, but he knew their faces. Each and every one. The only one that had been scratched off his mental, I am going to kill you list, was the human female who had saved him. And she smelt like vampire.

No, Callan wasn’t the same.

He was different, that’s all he knew. His entire body ached, and every day it was getting worse. It was why he had to stay away from everyone.

Because he’d already fucked up...

Human and vampires—nobody was safe around him.

Until he knew what he was becoming or unbecoming, he had to lay low and hope he hadn’t already started a chain reaction that couldn’t be undone.

Then one day he would hunt out those on his list and destroy them.