Free Frostbound by Sharon Ashwood Page A

recognizable. After Talia had lost her humanity, she’d thought there was nothing left to take—but the horror had come back again. She’d still had something to lose. Still more pain to endure. One more time.
    Perhaps the last time. Michelle was all she had left. Now there was no one. Pink tears began to stain the pillowcase. Grief was finally finding release.
    Michelle had been the one to anchor Talia, to patiently remind her that not everything was obliterated because she’d been Turned. She’d helped Talia pick the threads of her true self from the tangled, damaged mess she’d become. If it hadn’t been for her cousin, Talia would never have gone back to teaching.
    And she was only one of the many, many people who had loved Michelle. Tonight, a light had gone out of the world. And it was my fault . Talia sobbed in earnest. There was no way to bring her cousin back. Not even an ancient vampire could save someone after their body had been so badly broken.
    Talia’s tears slowed, the last thought pushing her from sadness to fear. It should have been me who died . A vampire would have known the difference between a human and one of their own. That meant the murder was either a huge mistake or a warning.
    Who wants me dead?
    Talia’s stomach cramped as cold terror washed through her. There was her sire, who had reason to hate her. She’d escaped from his clutches and also swiped a small fortune on her way out the door. But would he really risk Queen Omara’s wrath by coming to Fairview and beheading the locals? She had counted on the fact that he would not.
    And then there was Talia’s family. Dad .
    In his eyes, she was no better than a rabid dog. The Talia he’d raised from a baby had died the moment the vampires took her for their own. If he caught her now, he’d butcher her without mercy.
    Strike the monsters before they kill or corrupt an innocent human . That was what her whole neighborhood— the tribe—had believed. When you saw the crossed-blade symbol of the Hunters, you knew you were dealing with monster-killing machines, bred for the job and trained from birth.
    Talia pulled up the right sleeve of her sweater. Twin Hunter sabers, crossed at the hilt, were inked on the inside of her forearm. Against pale vampire skin, the fine detailing would never fade or blur. Nor could she ever get the damned thing off. Everything she wore, however fashionable, would be long-sleeved. Forever.
    She made a fist, the design shifting along her skin. She’d never been big, but she’d always been good with firearms. She’d also been a risk-taker to the point of stupidity. She’d wanted her father’s approval and at sixteen, she’d made her first kill. A ghoul. He’d given Talia the tattoo as a reward.
    It was hardly a reward now. Everyone knew the Hunters’ symbol. If the nonhumans ever saw the tattoo, she would be torn to shreds. Of course, now that she was one of the monsters, the Hunters only saw her as something fit to kill. Undeath was filled with interesting ironies.
    Talia pulled the sleeve down again. What was she? Hunter? Monster? Teacher?
    Prisoner.
    Talia blinked, tears of frustration and sadness misting the lights into a blurry wash. The pillow felt cool against her cheek. She’d been in that room, on that bed, almost long enough that it was starting to smell more like her than the hellhound.
    It smelled like grief.
    Then grow a spine, will ya? She took a long, shaky breath, fumbling for enough anger to push her into action. Half her instincts screamed to hop the first night bus heading out of town. The other half was crying out for vengeance.
    Either way, she had to get out of Lore’s bedroom. What would happen if he found out I was a Hunter? Ground vampire patties with extra ketchup, probably.
    No one was going to save her but herself. Heroes on white horses were a myth. I am not a victim . She rolled onto her back, scanning the room for escape possibilities.
    First, she needed a tool to get out of