Page 5 of Bane of Hate and Silver (Primordial Inheritance #1)

Almost to his destination he smelled it.

The unmistakable scent of fresh, human blood.

Like a shark in an ocean of people, he stalked toward it.

His throat began to dry. His nose began to burn.

Closer and closer to the source he closed in.

The distinct dripping pounded in his ears.

It wasn’t far now. Unable to continue at his slow pace, he closed the distance between him and the dripping blood in moments.

In a blur, he was in the alley. There, just past a big angry-looking man, was his prey.

The large man who had obviously let the blood out of its human vessel fell at his feet, his neck broken, bloody knife clattering to the pavement.

Nick didn’t register the face of his prey, all he saw was the trail of blood running down her neck and into her cleavage.

She whimpered only once more before his fangs were in her throat.

He drank. One last scream faded across the open alley as she fell into her killer’s arms. With each passing second, the thirst inside him was satiated.

The intoxicating smell of fresh blood diminished as he consumed it.

“Let go of the girl!” a low voice said from behind him.

When the body was empty of every last ounce of blood, he pulled his fangs out of her cold, dead neck and licked the last drop off his bottom lip.

“Get your hands in the air, vampire,” the voice growled.

Releasing the now empty vessel, the body fell to the alley floor with another thud.

Raising his arms, he turned toward the interrupting voice.

It only took a moment more to grasp the reality of the situation.

“Really?” he said. “A gun, wolfficer? What is a gun going to do to me exactly?” he asked the werewolf officer of the law.

The brawny man flinched, realizing his fatal mistake.

“Too slow.” Nick rushed forward with vampire speed. In less than a second, he’d overpowered the officer, hand buried deep in the werewolf’s chest. The officer strained to look back at his cop-mobile.

“Run!” the werewolf shouted at the same time that his heart was ripped from his chest. The body fell just as the passenger door of the car opened, and a teenage boy ran for his life.

Luca woke abruptly as a door slammed and someone yelled, “Get the hell out of this house!” Carson was roaring in anger about something or another, again. Luca rolled over and closed his eyes, content to ignore this rather regular occurrence.

“She was never yours, you bigoted brute,” Kyle shouted back, apparently finding a shred of defiance deep inside himself and acting on it.

Luca’s eyes opened sluggishly.

There was a sound that meant one of them had gotten punched. Luca assumed that the soon to be bruised one was Kyle.

Sitting up, Luca tried to shake himself awake and untangle himself from the twisted bedsheets.

He wobbled as he stood, kicking at the sweat drenched fabric still clinging to him.

Once free of his linen confines Luca pulled on shorts and moved to the door.

He met Kyle on his way up the stairs. As expected, Kyle’s lip was bleeding.

“Did you know about this?” Carson shouted, upon seeing Luca at the top of the stairs.

“Nope,” Luca lied and followed Kyle to his room.

Kyle started haphazardly shoving his belongings in one of three large duffle bags he pulled from his closet. Luca stopped at the door and watched.

“Hayley’s brother told him,” Kyle explained, without turning around.

“Which one?” Luca asked referencing Hayley’s many brothers.

“How should I know?” Kyle snapped as he continued.

“Probably Adam,” Luca said.

“Probably.”

“Where will you go?” Luca leaned against the doorframe and yawned.

“I’ve got a place,” Kyle said, then smiled mischievously. “You didn’t think I was gonna stay in this frat house forever, did you? I’m a married man.”

Luca shrugged. He’d moved into the Den around ten years ago, Kyle had been here before that. Kyle leaving after he and Hayley had tied the knot hadn’t really occurred to him.

“Come by the apartment later,” Kyle said, picking up bag after bag, slinging each one over his shoulders. He looked like an overstuffed pack-mule as he walked toward the door. “It’s on the floor above Hayley’s parents.”

“I bet they’ll love that,” Luca joked.

“We’re married now,” Kyle said. “They’ll get over it.”

“You’re sure?” Luca asked, rubbing his eyes, still feeling a bit groggy.

“Ehhh,” Kyle waved his hand in a swiveling motion to indicate that the real answer was maybe. “Can I borrow the Jeep?” Kyle asked, looking down at his belongings.

The image of Kyle trying to get himself and three large bags balanced on a motorcycle came to mind. Luca chuckled.

Kyle shifted until he could dig the keys to his motorcycle out of his pocket.

“I’ll bring it by Hayley’s later.” Luca caught the keys when they came flying toward him.

“It’s my place too,” Kyle chided.

Luca made a face.

“You’re right, it’s Hayley’s.” Kyle conceded. Despite being thrown out of the house he’d lived in for over a decade, Kyle was in good spirits. Of course, he was generally in good spirits. It was just in his nature. “Throw down the Jeep keys,” Kyle requested as he thudded down the stairs.

Luca walked back to his room. His bedroom was the largest room in the house, the master suite.

It was a fair bribe for someone with Luca’s lineage to become Carson’s Beta, instead of putting forth the challenge for Alpha.

At first, Luca had laughed it off, but now he was thankful for the space to escape.

Shutting the door behind him, he searched through clean and dirty clothes and clutter until he found where the keys had been dropped the night before. Housekeeping wasn’t Luca’s strong suit. Luca opened the window and tossed the Jeep keys into Kyle’s outstretched hand.

“Be careful with my Jeep.”

“Don’t crash my baby,” Kyle called back, looking forlornly toward the driveway and his motorcycle.

Luca laughed and pulled his window back down, turning to prepare for the day.

Jules was unable to resume sleeping after the night’s dreams. She had read a few more chapters and then dressed for work early. Deciding to take a stroll down her street before sunrise.

She’d chosen this street for its ambiance.

The cottages that lined the rocky coast were homey and individualized, but often vacant this time of year.

Jules struggled to understand the vacation home mentality, seeing the waves crashing on the rocks from her back porch was her favorite part.

It always felt like she was chasing a peace she would never find, like the waves chasing the shore.

As the time for her to leave for work approached, she walked back to her own house and started her car. It was still dark out during the few minutes’ drive to the coffee shop she frequented. Not because the dead drank coffee, but because her best, human friend worked the early shift most days.

Per-usual, the coffee house was relatively empty inside while the drive-through was a mass of honking cars and impatient drivers. Jules saw Monica handing the same old man his coffee order. “Is there anything else I can get you, Mr. Boyer?”

“What do you think?” he snapped grumpily.

Monica smiled regardless and wished him a good day. Jules approached the counter as Mr. Boyer made his way back to his usual little table.

“Does he ever go home?" Jules whispered to Monica once she was close enough to keep from being overheard.

“Yes, between ten and noon,” Monica said and they both giggled.

Monica was several inches taller than Jules, with caramel skin, and brown, curly hair that she let grow down past her shoulders.

Monica had graduated the year previous, before Jules started working at the school, and was in the middle of a gap year, which she’d promised her parents would be used to think about her future.

Jules suspected it had more to do with the fact that her boyfriend, Tai, was taking classes at the local community college so he could save money and continue helping his parents with their family restaurant.

Jules knew that Monica planned on going to college but wanted to wait for Tai to finish his first couple of years, so they could take on the adventure of moving across the country together.

Monica had her whole life planned out, down to the year and moment she wanted Tai to propose.

Always put together, looking immaculate even serving coffee.

If life worked out for anyone, it would be Monica.

Life rarely worked out how one planned, but she hoped in Monica’s case it would.

Monica picked up the forty-ounce tumbler she always carried and walked out from behind the counter. “I’m taking ten,” she called to her co-worker, who was in the back.

“Okay!” they shouted in return.

“Are you still coming over tonight?” Monica asked.

Jules nodded as they sat down at their usual table.

“Good. How was your night? Mine was fine. Tai and I just hung out with my family. I got into a fight with Ethan because he didn’t knock first, and Tai and I were making out. Thank God that’s all he saw. So, what about you? Anything eventful happen last night?”

Jules smiled. The number of words Monica could get out in one breath was almost inhuman. “Actually, yes.” Jules lowered her voice. “Gabriel, Eileen, and I had a run-in with a pack of wolves.”

“Did anything dramatic happen? I mean, to be honest, we both knew that was going to happen eventually. But what do you mean ‘a run in’? How many were there?” Monica waved her white and silver sparkle acrylic nails for emphasis.