Page 29 of Fangs for the Memories (Budapest Bites #1)

I step out into the street, and instantly my nostrils are assaulted with the scent of vampires. The overcast weather is perfect for them to walk abroad, and the clouds are heavy with unshed snow. Plus, it’s as cold as the grave, a temperature they enjoy.

My lips lift in a protective snarl. The last thing I want is vampires anywhere near my mate. While she remains in the werewolf owned store, she will be safe, but once she’s in the street…

I regulate my breathing, looking to pinpoint the lead vampire. If I take that one out, the rest will disappear like smoke.

Then I see him. The vampire from the caves. The one Dominik called rogue . He stands in the deep doorway of an abandoned building across the wide street. Trams rattle past and he is gone.

“Fuck,” I swear under my breath. I might not be able to see him, but he is still there. “Take Grace home,” I growl at my driver, pulling out my phone and seeing the text from Viktor, warning me about a potential vampire nest in my area. “I have something I have to do.”

I was too busy with a delicious little mate to pay any attention to his texts, and I curse under my breath, quickly sending him a reply.

The old crumbling building is the source of the scent.

I have to clear them out, given this is my patch and the store relies on my protection.

I cross the street in the blink of a human eye and reach the door, set into an art deco ornately carved stone doorway which hardly anyone will pay any attention to, hurrying past in the snow.

The scent of decay and vampires is almost overwhelming as I step inside. Scaffolding, eons old, climbs the interior like a metal spider web. The floors are mostly rotten, in some places gone completely, and plaster from the ceiling lies in heaps, undisturbed by any attempt at upkeep.

I swiftly shed my clothing and shift into my were form.

I haven’t been hunting in a long time, and I miss having kills under my belt, whether it be deer for food or vampires for sport. And now the latter will be especially sweet if they’re sanctioned by the Király.

While the rogue is still here, he has at least twenty others with him. Given how they are hiding, I can only surmise they are from the cave and not fit to be out in the light. It’ll certainly make them easier to kill.

But it’s him I want. The one who thought it would be good to capture me and my mate and hold us prisoner. That sort of behavior will only ever result in one outcome.

“Ferenc.” The voice blows through the damp and damaged building as I sidestep a rotten floor. “I have a proposition for you.”

I prick my ears. Vampires are great at grave magic, but werewolves have been living alongside vampires for a long time, and we’re used to their tricks. The voice is coming from above me. I negotiate the creaking staircase to the next floor, my fangs getting ready to tear off heads.

“You have nothing to offer,” I respond. “Save for your throat to my fangs.”

“I could say the same.” The voice floats back to me.

Like any vampire will ever best me.

“What do you want?” I growl. “Because if it’s anything to do with the vault, I will hunt you down.”

“If you want your human mate to stay safe, you will help me.” The voice waxes and wanes, the overall stench of vampire in this place making it hard to pinpoint the damned creature.

“You won’t get close to her,” I snarl. “Your threats are boring.” I stop moving, stop stalking, stop hunting. Instead I wait and listen. “I’ve heard them all before, and no one has ever taken what’s mine.”

Downstairs, the door slams, sending shockwaves through the building. Above me, I hear an ominous rumble.

This place is empty for a reason.

The weight of the snow on the roof is too much for the now delicate structure, weakened by decades of neglect and poor renovations.

This place is a trap.

The ceiling groans and bulges. I dodge to one side but put my foot through a rotten board, which costs me precious time.

Time I don’t have. More than enough time for the entire roof to come down.

The last thing I see is a deluge of white snow and a hundred years of dirt.