Raphael had never dealt with an opponent in this particular state before.
One moment of inattention and the thrall was on him, both arms locked around his shoulders, the fangs driving into the artery before he could create distance, the pull of feeding immediate and greedy.
He didn't panic. He seized the thrall's arm with his free hand, bent at the knees and waist, used his own body as the axis, and threw him forward.
The thrall lost his balance and his mouth came off the wound, but the hunger had overtaken everything else, the black membrane split open and the jaw worked furiously, desperate to get back to the blood.
Raphael clicked his tongue.
"Stop making that sound. Do you know you have bad breath?"
He drove a fist into the open mouth. A fang snapped. He seized the next one and wrenched it sideways until it came out at the root, and threw it across the room.
"You like to bite? Good. Try this."
