I've pulled out a small snippet of your writing. I'm looking at ONLY the problem of interpolated exposition.
It's here. These are thoughts and explanations that would not be in the mind of someone fighting for his life.
I felt her aura flare and her power intensify with her rage, and my lips curled back into a nasty leer. She lunged for me, her pain momentarily forgotten, and her fist ripped back and thrust at my face fiercely. I ducked and I shoved my palms into her chest to push her away. Immediately I shrieked and reeled back, cupping my right hand. A cross-shaped burn seared my palm and I looked up to see the glowing pendant around the hunter’s neck. I had accidentally pressed my hand into the cross; igniting the reaction the symbol has against the flesh of my kind. I hissed ferociously at the girl.
Her leg kicked up and connected with my side, and I gave in to the force of the blow, falling to the ground. My opponent gave me no time to recover, and her foot struck the back of my neck with a great force. If I was human, or even a weaker vampire, it would have for certain snapped my neck in two. Her hand clutched the fabric of my shirt and pulled me to my feet before I could react. Her fist collided with my head and her knee shot up into my gut. My vision blurred, but I could still feel where she was. She let go of my shirt and attempted to strike me again, but I caught her fist, forgetting her other one.
There is another sort of exposition. May I recast the passage to show it?
Basically, there's no need to list every movement in this fight. The fighter, the POV character, only 'sees' and 'notices' things of quite immediate importance. That is ... he sees a blow coming towards him. He sees the woman's aura. He feels pain and fear.
But he doesn't necesssarily take time to notice that he himself is snarling or that somebody's let go of a shirt before they hit him.
When you add all the movements and thoughts and action and description that would be in the mind of an observer, outside the fight, rather than just the few things the fighter would concern himself with -- that's exposition.
Her aura flared. Her power intensified with her rage. She lunged for me, fists pounding.
I ducked and shoved her away. Pain. Pain beyond bearing ripped through me. I shrieked and fell back. She wore a cross. I looked down. A cross-shaped burn seared my palm
She attacked again. Hissing, disoriented, terrified, I dodged a roundhouse kick, riding the force of the blow, falling to the ground. Her foot struck the back of my head. A killing blow, if I'd been human.
She grabbed my shirt and pulled me to my feet. Her knee slammed into my gut. The world went black. I couldn't see, only sense where she was. It was enough. I caught the blow aimed for my face.
I'd forgotten her other fist.