This would ordinarily trigger an immediate and involuntary shift to full-hound mode. There was just one exception to the rule--when the blood was his own. He coughed and more blood trickled from the corners of his mouth.He blinked his eyes to clear his vision and saw the tall fat man gearing up to deliver another blow with the Louisville Slugger. He watched the fat end of the bat swoop through the warm desert air like a dive-bombing Japanese Zero at Pearl Harbor. The tall fat man was incredibly strong, and the blow was like a cannonball to the gut. Lucien wheezed, spraying a fine mist of blood into the air. His body sagged, drooping in the straining arms of two other big men.The tall fat man twirled the bat in his right hand. “Look at me, freak.” He put the fat end of the bat under Lucien’s chin and lifted it up. The big man went in and out of focus. “You’re hurting, right? Bet you feel like you’ve done ten rounds with Rocky Marciano. But you know what? I’m just getting warmed up.
