Page 12 of Blood of a Huntsman

Now that he'd heard of Luke's early days, Bash wondered if he'd been fair to himself. He lived around another newborn: Chloe, who'd been turned the same day as him, and took to vampire life like a fish to water. Of course, he felt like a mess next to her. But, though she hadn't known it, Chloe had been born for that life.

He doubted Luke had adapted to vampire life easily. Bash wondered how many weeks, months, or even years had passed before he’d adjusted to his changes. He opened his mouth to ask when a scent hit his nostrils, so intense and heady he felt like he could faint.

Blood.

So much blood. It hit him like a punch to the guts. Bash growled, a feral, bestial sound no man should have been able to make, as his head snapped east, his mind blank of anything, anyone, save for his next meal.

He crashed into the passenger door, which flew open under his strength, and launched into a run, hunting his prey.

He found them at the invisible border of Oldcrest. People. Students. He knew them, recognized their faces. And it didn't matter. Two were dead, bled dry, their bodies ripped open, limbs torn. One, just wounded, not quite dead, though her cuts were deep and wide. A girl, no older than Emilia.

A sack of blood he was going to drain.

The girl was attempting to crawl to safety. She'd seen something in his eyes.

She could try to get away. She should try. He liked a chase.

Bash smiled, and his tongue darted out in anticipation.

His first real meal. This was going to be so much better than the putrid blood bags he’d had to put up with. The beast that crawled at the surface had been unleashed and was entirely in control. The man—the huntsman, brother, guardian, protector—was gone.

Dead.

Then something collided with him. Hard. Something heavy and dangerous.

Bash fell to the ground, but before he'd regained his footing, the creature who'd attacked him had him pinned, one hand around his throat, nails digging into his skin.

He thrashed, growling, and the grasp tightened. Finally, the monster retreated, slowly, reluctantly, as if realizing it'd been beaten.

Now, Bash could see clearly.

The vampire holding him down was a devastatingly beautiful and familiar woman, blonde hair flying in the air. Her eyes were a torrential sky, bright silver, as if made of lightning.

Catherine Stormhale.

"Are you in control?" she asked slowly.

Was he?

After tonight, he'd never think so again.

Bash made no reply.

She let him go anyway.

"Good. We have bigger problems. If you can't handle the blood, get out of here."

Bash didn't think, didn't take the time to look at the blood, and avoided the accusing gaze of the poor victim he'd almost massacred. He just ran, and ran, and ran, until he'd reached Night Hill; then he ran faster, closing the doors of Levi's home, as if to shut the rest of the world away.

He closed his eyes, willing himself to forget what had just happened.

But he couldn’t afford to forget.

“Levi!” he screamed, calling the master of the house forward. “We have a problem.”

---