Chapter 4
Morton woke with a start.
Alone.
He lay on the couch, naked, and Graham had gone, likely off hunting. He opened his senses, but to his relief, he was alone in the house. No intruders.
He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. The room swam a bit, reminding him he was weak and hungry. Shifting on the couch, Morton grimaced. His ass was also sore from the pounding Graham had given him before he’d left.
Morton stood and reached down to pick up his earlier discarded clothes. As he walked toward the dark kitchen, he left them on a nearby chair. He opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of blood He twisted the cap off, leaning against the open fridge door.
Closing his eyes, he swung the bottle up and let the cold, thick blood slide down his throat. He hated the need
