Morganville - 10 - Bite Club by Rachel Caine

realized that I didn't want to be him anymore. He'd taken it too far.
    Meeting Claire made me realize that I could be something different. Something better. The first time I saw her, black-and-blue but with this strange little core of strength...I recognized something we had in common. We didn't quit. And we suffered for it.
    I started out wanting to protect her, and the more I was around her, the more I realized that she was one girl who could take care of herself. I wasn't used to chicks being equals -- and Claire was, and is. She's not that physically strong, but she's quick and smart and fearless, and if sometimes I get overprotective about her, she's the first one to remind me of that.
    But I want to be ready, if it comes to a fight again -- which it will. Not just against the normal human bullies and criminals; those were a piece of cake. No, I want to be able to defend her against the vampires, and that is a whole lot harder. Weapons are good, and I never turn those down, but the reality is I can't count on always having one. I worry. There have been a couple of times -- more than a couple -- when only the fact that Michael had vampire strength he could throw in with mine had saved us.
    And that really bothered me. I couldn't depend on Michael, either. Or anybody else.
    Mixed martial arts -- that was the ticket. Hit your guy however you can, and put him down fast. My kind of fighting, and something that could work on vampires, if you knew what you were doing. I'd been itching to try it, and when the flyer came in the mail, it seemed like somebody up there liked me after all.
    Michael had pulled me off to the side after Claire left to say he didn't think it was a good idea. I told him to stuff it, but in a nice way, because even though he's got fangs and a thirst, he's still my bro. Most times. Took me a while to accept that, but I'm almost okay with his whole night-stalking lifestyle now.
    Doesn't mean I don't want to be able to kick his ass if I have to, though. The chance to learn martial arts from a vampire...that was way too good to pass up.
    I know how to do the real kind of martial arts. I mean, I had karate until I was thirteen and decided I was too cool for it. So I know how to put on a gi and tie a belt and be formal on the mats. Turned out that was good, because the instructor -- some dude named Vassily, with an Eastern European accent straight out of an old movie --
    wanted to start out that way.
    I was okay the first couple of passes, when he got me up to spar. It was like fighting anybody else, no big thing, until he started using vampire speed and strength on me. I couldn't help it; that made me angry, and anger kind of makes me forget the rules. I went for his knee. He hit me like a wrecking ball smashing a wall, and next thing I knew, I was shaking it off with a giant ache in my chest. I'd been lucky. He could have caved in my ribs and Swiss-cheesed my heart if he'd hit full strength.
    Then don't let him hit you again, loser. I could almost hear my dad's voice, dry and mocking. He was dead now, but in my mind he was always there, always watching, and always judging. He'd hated vampires. I didn't much like 'em, either. We'd always had that in common.
    I didn't think about walking away. I went back to the mat and bowed, and the second I got a chance, I attacked with everything I had. Full-on blitz. I knew I was going to get hurt, maybe badly, maybe killed, but I wasn't going to be humiliated. Not by a vampire. No way in hell.
    I got him. Hard. I could see the shock in his face, and the rush of rage, and as I stood there with the bloody taste of victory in my mouth, I actually wanted him to go for it, come get me, because, damn, I felt alive, actually alive.......
    But he shut me down, said something I didn't register, and bowed me off the mat. I don't remember leaving or kneeling down. I just remember thinking, Next time, next time, next time, regular as a bell ringing in my head and drowning out every