Twoshot Vancha

Larten was quivering with rage. “If you were not a Prince…”
“Don’t let that stop you,” Vancha said with a vicious grin.
For a moment Larten held back. Then, with a roar that had been
building inside him since Alicia was killed, he threw himself at Vancha and
lashed out.

Larten’s fist connected with Vancha’s chin and the Prince went
sprawling. He crashed through a group of vampires and they tumbled
around him like skittles, yelping with surprise.

Larten was on Vancha before the Prince could rise, punching, kicking,
keen to cause maximum damage. He was normally a refined fighter and
would never strike an opponent who had been knocked down. But he had
lost all self-control. It wasn’t the same as when he’d killed the foreman,
Traz, or the people on the ship. On those occasions he had become an icecold
killing machine. This time he simply exploded and lashed out like a
child throwing a fit.

Vancha protected his face from the worst of Larten’s blows while his
head was spinning. The damage to his stomach and chest didn’t bother him,
but he couldn’t let Larten strike his chin cleanly again, as another direct
shot might put him out of action.

***

The Saga of Larten Crepsley: Brothers to the Death, Chapter 9