Page 188 of Bitten & Burned

I vaulted a stone wall, landing with a thump on the other side.

“Hey, watch it!” some guy yelled, but I was already gone.

Up this street, down the next, nose to the air, following the trail all the way to the Blackthorn—thick here, but trailing away too… She’d gone another way. Where?

I pivoted hard, caught her scent again, and chased it down a different street. This one was weaker, too, but still solidly her.

I splashed through a fountain, not even realizing it until cold water hit my feet.

Two women grabbed each other, leaping out of my path. Their eyes went wide.

As well they should. I was a hunter. In their city. Hunting.

“Sorry,” I muttered, already out of earshot.

Cobblestones gave way to stone slabs, then to a well-worn road. Her scent strengthened.

I knew it was her. I was close now.

I left the road and plunged into the woods. Branches scraped my face. Brambles clawed at my legs. I gritted my teeth and forced my way through a tangle of thorny vines.

And then, her scent hit me like a wall. Not faint. Present.

I must have crossed a threshold—the air was denser and colder, as if I’d stepped into another place entirely.

I slowed, creeping forward, each footfall deliberate. Listening for anything: a movement, her breath, or her heartbeat. Something that could lead me to her.

“Quil…”

My ears prickled. That wasn’t the bond. That washer. Her voice. It was thin and wispy, but it was her.

I crept closer, parting a tangle of bushes, and saw it.

A stone fortress. Old as the hills, but steady. Enormous—far larger than Halemont. Then again, Halemont was a home, not a fortress.

I drew in a deep breath, her scent curling in the air.

It didn’t matter how thick the walls were. I’d find her. Stone wouldn’t stop me.

I sank lower, every step placed with care so no twigs snapped and no leaves crunched. I slipped through unkempt gardens, past overgrown rosebushes and weeds that strangled the flowerbeds. Cracked cobblestone paths spread out before me.

A large estate, but not well-maintained. That either meant the occupant didn’t care or was rarely here.

I had a sneaking suspicion I’d stumbled on Dun Drummond.Where that bastard Silas lived. The land he’d promised my kin. They’d flourish here, no doubt.

I moved from the side to the front, spotting two guards posted by the door. From the way they scratched themselves and spat on the ground, I’d say they were Ashbornes—my cursed kin.

Well… not cursed. Just ignorant. And high on bloodroot. Braindead.

They’d be easy. True, they were great hunters, but I was better. Trained as an Ashborne, then again as a vampire. All those years feeding from animals, I’d even learned from watching the mountain lions and bears. I’d mastered their tactics before I killed them and fed.

So, as for these two bloodroot addicts in the dead of night? Easy.

I stilled, ducking into the shadows while the guards scratched and picked at themselves.

The one closest to me twitched, sensing something—but not quickly enough.

I swept his leg, dropping him fast, and twisted his head until I felt the bones give. He collapsed with a dull thud.