Laura Wright - Eternal Hunger

Training his guns on anything that moved, Alexander passed by credenti living quarters, small, barely furnished rooms filled with veanas and pavens , Impures and Purebloods, all huddled together looking terrified.

Alexander sniffed the air.

Where are you? Where are you?

In one room he passed, a young veana around ten years old caught his gaze and gestured to the room across the hall. Alexander nodded at the brave one, then changed course.

But before he reached the door, a massive Impure jumped out and clocked him in the face, then triple punched him in the gut. Grunting, Alexander fought to stay upright, fought his desire to shoot the shit out of the Impure and the room behind him. He scented Dare, but the half-breed wasn’t alone. There were veanas , innocents with him, some heavy with their swell. He had to take the perfect shot.

He heard the scramble of feet, movement behind the huge Impure, and when the paven dove at him, two knives in his fists, Alexander slammed his head into the paven ’s gut, then quick as a blink, reached around the male’s body with both Glocks and fired. Alexander heard a gasp, then a female’s terrified cry as Dare went down.

“Holy shit,” he heard Lucian snarl behind him.

Guns in his fist, Alexander rolled sideways, ready for more, but the huge Impure was up, rushing at Dare’s still body. Before Alexander could react, the Impure threw himself over Dare in a bear hug and they vanished.

“ No !” Alexander roared, raising his guns and firing into the floor where Dare’s body had just been.

As the innocents scattered like rats, Nicholas grabbed Alexander’s wrists. “Stop. Christ. He’s gone.”

“The recruits!” Alexander shouted, whirling around, ready for Dare or his Impures to flash, return.

“All dead, Duro ,” Lucian assured him. “It’s done.”

Breathing heavy, Alexander took in the sight before him, all the vampires in the Barracks, young and old staring at him with wide, frightened eyes. Was it done? Was it? He turned back to his brothers, who looked like they’d been playing soccer with their faces, and growled fiercely, “There’s no body.”

“They’ll have to know he’s dead,” Lucian said, eyeing Nicholas for confirmation. Nicholas nodded. “Dare was stone cold. The Order will know.”

Fuck, Alexander wanted to believe that. He stared at the both of them, his younger brothers whom he loved. Everything they’d known, everything they’d enjoyed for the past hundred years was gone. Peace had become war, and the days of self-governing had been given over to the ones who ruled without thought. The Order, the credenti , the Eternal Breed as a whole had become part of their lives now, and Alexander feared that even if he stopped the premorphing of his brothers, the connection to this old life and new world would not be severed.

“We need to take inventory,” he said, his tone commanding and controlled once again. “Sweep the entire area and make sure no recruits remain. Then we must see to the veanas and their balas , find out where they belong and to whom. After that, we’ll return home.” He turned his focus on Nicholas and frowned. “To wait and to watch.”

“You’re angry and confused. I get that,” Sara said gently. “I know you don’t want any more tests or pills or hypnosis. I’m done with all that, too.”

Gray’s eyes snapped up to meet hers. His attention at long last.

“Can you trust me this one last time?” she asked him. When he didn’t look away, Sara took a breath and continued. “My friend Alexander, he’s offered to help you.”

“That’s right, human” came a strong, clear masculine voice behind Sara. “You’d better buck up, because I’m coming for your blood.”

Sara looked up to see Alexander walking into the room, limping slightly as his injury attempted to heal from last night’s fight with Dare and his recruits. An hour ago, Dillon had given him her breath, but according to Leza the stab wound had torn cartilage and it needed a good twenty-four hours to mend properly.

“My brothers are coming to assist,” Alexander told her, though his eyes were on Gray. “Why not make it a party, yes?”

“A coming-out party,” drawled Lucian, strolling into the room, Nicholas behind him, both vampires looking like punching bags with eyes.

Sara noticed Gray’s attention shift from the blacked-out windows to the blackened eyes of the brothers. “Do we really need everyone?”

“Yes.” Alexander gestured to the pair. “Nicky, Lucian. Hold him down.”

Sara jumped up. “No, Alexander, please. He hates being contained like that.”

“Perhaps.” Alexander’s gaze was trained on Gray. “But not this time. Look.”

The pulse in Sara’s neck kicked, and she turned back to Gray. His eyes were on Alexander, his chin titled upward and his expression . . . She squinted. What was that in his metal gray eyes? Was that interest and a thread of . . . trust? Her heart lurched. God, how long had it been since he’d looked like that at her?

As he came to stand beside Gray, Alexander shook his head. “He knows he will fight, and he wants this done.”

“How do you know that?” Sara asked, her emotions running a race inside of her. Fear and hope battling it out for first place.

“Please trust in me, Sara,” Alexander said.

Nicholas and Lucian clustered around the bed, and Nicholas put a hand on Gray’s shoulder. “Easy now, Brother.”

Taking a deep breath, Gray stretched his arms out for the brothers to hold him. Sara’s mouth dropped open and she shook her head. He did know, he understood that whatever Alexander was offering might be the real deal. But how?

“You might want to turn away for a moment,” Alexander warned her, his hands gripping Gray’s skull.

“Not a chance,” Sara said, catching Lucian glancing her way, his devilish eyes flashing with begrudging respect.

Alexander struck quick, and Sara flinched as her brother sucked in air, his body going instantly rigid. Please work , she begged silently, no longer giving a shit about her own sense of failure. She just wanted Gray to recover, to talk again, to have a chance at a real life.

Suddenly, his body jerked, and as the brothers pressed down on his arms and legs to keep him steady, Gray cried out and went into full-on convulsions.

Unlike Trainer’s rank blood and diseased mind, Gray’s blood was uncommonly sweet for a human, and his brain was open and ready. Alexander moved through the man’s memories with experience, pushing his way back in history, jumping rapidly until he snagged on to an image that carried emotional weight. It took only seconds to find what he wanted and veer off the cerebral roadway to see the young, undamaged pair of children he sought: Gray and Sara. The image of little Sara made Alexander’s chest tighten, and the temptation to remain and watch her climb a tree, her bare feet raking up the bark with the effortlessness of a monkey, was powerful. But he had sworn to take great care and speed within the head of her brother and so he pushed forward, flying through doors in time, one after the other until he came to a late-summer evening, a young Sara walking up the stairs in a pitch-black house, a candle in her hands.

“Go back to your room and stop following me, Gray,” she whispered behind her.

But the boy must have continued because Alexander was following Sara up the stairs and down a hall. At a closed door, she turned and put her finger to her lips. “Stay here,” she whispered. “I’ll be right back.”

Sara opened the door and disappeared behind it. Alexander felt Gray’s impatience, his concern. Then the door opened and Sara came rushing out clutching a book to her chest, the candle forgotten. “Got it,” she said excitedly. “It was under the bed.”