Eternal Hunger by Laura Wright

credentis all over the world,” Alexander continued, his voice devoid of all emotion now. “This is the one where I began my life.”
    Sara looked up at him, curious by this new bit of information. This was his home, where he was born, and yet he looked as though he would rather be anywhere else. Despite her own flirtations with anxiety at the moment, she curled her arm around his waist, offering him whatever support she could. He growled low in his chest and leaned in to her touch.
    As they walked, Sara eyed the people around them. They were completely covered from head to foot in homespun clothing. “Why is everyone dressed like that?”
    “They remain in their own time,” Alexander said with a bitter edge to his tone. “The Purebloods and Impures that live within these walls and the walls of every other credenti are uninterested in the modern world and her conveniences. Simplicity is how they must live—it is in what they wear, what they see, what they talk about.”
    Sounded pretty restrictive to Sara, but she wasn’t the kind of person to knock someone else’s choices. She gestured to men and women walking past them. “There’s fabric wrapped around their throats and wrists.”
    “Yes.”
    “What’s that all about?”
    “All males and females embrace the ancient ways and texts of the Order.”
    “The Order?”
    “The Eternal Order. Vampire law, vampire gods.” He sneered. “They are responsible for this. They determine how a vampire should live to remain pure inside and out. And until a vampire’s true mate finds him or her, the points on their bodies—neck and wrists—where blood is most commonly taken, are covered.”
    Sara was pretty taken aback. It was so primitive. “And everyone here goes for that? Abides by the law?”
    “If they wish to have a peaceful existence they do.”
    “But you and your brothers—”
    “Got the hell out,” he finished for her.
    They continued down the street, passing homes with farmland behind them. Men and women—male and female vampires—continued to stare, their gazes ranging from shock to disgust to fear. Just like Alexander, they could easily pass for human in the looks department, but unlike him, they were bone thin and noticeably shorter than an average human.
    Sara wondered why that would be, but the thought barely had time to register. Beside her, Alexander had stopped, his body frozen in place, a low feral sound erupting from his throat and filling the air around them. Sara had never heard such a sound; it was like an animal caught in a trap, and her heart suddenly ached for him. He was staring at something to his left and she followed his line of vision. There, a few feet away, standing in front of a small one-story home, was a male, a female, and a child, who appeared to be somewhere around twelve years old.
    When she saw Alexander, the girl dropped her gaze to the snowy ground, but the male and female beside her stared at Alexander with looks of shock that quickly morphed into expressions of disgust. The November air chilled Sara to her bones, but it was nothing compared to the coldness that emanated from the two creatures before her. Every instinct, every nerve in her body screamed at her to run.
    She dug her nails into Alexander’s waist. “Who is that?”
    “The veana who gave me life,” he uttered, “and the paven who did everything he could to take it away.”

13
    I t had been a hundred years since Alexander had laid eyes on his mother and her true mate, Theydon, and yet their scent still made him sick. It was the scent of hate, of abuse, of neglect, and its pungent stench sent a wave of fury through what remained of Alexander’s soul. Had the Order set this up? Forced him to come here and prostrate himself at the foot of the very monsters who had driven him away?
    Beside him Sara whispered, “They don’t look happy to see you.”
    “This was a mistake,” he uttered tightly, his nostrils flaring, releasing angry little puffs of air