Cursed (The Brookehaven Vampires #4) by Joann I. Martin Sowles Page A

by my hair. I screamed and fell back. He jerked me up the steps and dragged me across the porch as I kicked and screamed.
    Zane jerked me to my feet as he got to the door. He held me with my arms pinned, so I would stop hitting him. I had my back against him, and all I could do was scream and stomp my feet like a child. And I did.
    In the yard, Oliver was on his knees. I saw both terror and anger register across his face as he caught sight of me trapped in Zane’s grip. Oscar didn’t have a chance against his brother, and he knew it, and when Oliver was focused on me, Oscar took his chance and scramble d across the ground and out of Oliver’s reach.
    Oscar was fast, but Oliver was stronger, and Oscar was well aware of this fact. Plus, with Oliver’s added desperation to get me away from Zane, Oscar had no hope. Oliver lunged for his brother, jerked him back by his ankle, and with one blow to the side of his face, Oliver confirmed who the stronger brother was.
    A moment later, Oscar scrambled to keep himself upright as he high-tailed it into the surrounding tree line and out of sight. Oliver probably could have caught him, given Oscar’s current struggle to stay on his feet and all, but Oliver was after Zane right then.
    “Mine!” Oliver growled as he barreled toward us.
    Zane hauled me into the house and slammed the door before Oliver could reach us. Oliver crashed against the door and Zane let go of me, so I ran. Zane was preoccupied with the door and the measly deadbolt that was surely not going to keep Oliver out for long.
    There was nowhere for me to escape. The entire house was in lockdown, except the front door. I ran to the kitchen. With a fairly good-sized kitchen knife in one hand and really heavy frying pan in the other, I was as ready as I could be. That son-of-a-bitch was not taking me away from Oliver. Ever !
    I crouched down behind the kitchen island and waited. Oliver was roaring my name from outside while pounding his way through the front door. Zane had somehow secured the door, and it was taking longer for Oliver to get to me than I had thought it would.
    While I hid, Zane called my name several times in that creepy movie-killer kind of way, getting closer each time. My heart was pounding, thudding in my ears.
    When he came into the kitchen, he said, in the most menacing voice, “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
    The back of my hand burned even more, distracting me, but I readied myself. I was crouched with my back against the island, waiting for him to come around either side. I was not prepared for him to come at me from over the top.
    I dropped the knife when he grabbed my hair, but I double fisted the pan and swung. I clocked him upside the head and knocked him off balance. He fell off of the island and onto the tile floor with a heavy thud, a groan of pain and surprise escaping him.
    I bolted from the kitchen.
    Oliver was still shouting my name. It sounded like he was throwing himself against the door. I ran to the front of the house as fast as I could. Somehow, Zane was there before me. It startled me and I screamed. Oliver pounded even harder and roared my name. The steel door groaned with every blow—the hinges would soon give. Would it be soon enough?
    I still had the frying pan grasped in my hand. I readied myself for Zane to come at me. Unfortunately, he had the knife.
    His eyes bore into me as I watched him. He paced. I could see that he was evaluating me and getting ready to attack. He was also bleeding from the side of his head, and I knew he had to be hurting. I got some satisfaction out of this fact, however, I wasn’t sure if the blood was due to me hitting him or Oliver slamming his head against the headstone. Either way, there was a spark of satisfaction in me. And I bet Zane was wishing right then that he had never touched me.
    Stupid freaking demented angel!
    He lunged at me with the knife, obviously afraid of my mad skills with a frying pan. I jumped back and he missed.