Oakenden, Ten Years BeforeThe pain was persistent. The sort of pain that Logan knew that was only a hair from agony. He knew that he was in hospital and drugged to take the edge off of his suffering as he had fleeting, foggy memories of whirling lights in an ambulance, and people talking to him, reassuring him that he was being looked after, the off-white halls and flash of neon lights as he was wheeled through the hospital, people staring at him in horror, and moments of waking surrounded by blue curtains as nurses checked in on him their voices blurring and the meaning lost.He had run from the monster, from the scene of gore and horror in the kitchen, fleeing down towards Gillian’s room in the hope that she would be home, seeking help whilst knowing there was nothing that she could do against the monster. In the bedroom, the monster hand brought him down and pinned him facedown on the ground.He’d felt the warm stickiness of blood running down his cheek, into his eye and mouth as

Montlimer, Ten Years BeforeLogan spent his time moving between the common room and the junior library, trying to escape his grief in books and TV shows. He gradually got to know the other students by name and face as they made their appearances in the common room. They were curious about him, but there was an unspoken rule that he quickly worked out – they didn’t ask about his past, and he wasn’t to ask about theirs. And that was fine with him – he couldn’t talk about what had happened to him and could understand why they didn’t want to share what they had been through.Conversation mainly revolved around the school, teams that he should join, the teachers that were more or less fun to study with, and which students were hooking up with each other after lights out.Logan’s roommate Wade was seeing Katrina from across the hall, and they alternated nights in each other’s room, requiring Logan to either spend an uncomfortable night listening to the opposite bunk bed creak, or to take hi

Ertonport, One Year BeforeShe should never have brought him home, Meguitte thought as she opened a bottle of wine in her kitchen and filled two wine glasses. It was a mistake to bring a stranger to where she lived. She could not recall ever having done so before. The only person who ever came into one of her homes was Thaelen.Logan leaned against the handrail of her balcony looking out over the ocean. “Amazing view,” he commented as she brought the wine glasses out to join him.“I like the ocean,” she said. “I was… hurt once,” she paused, surprised to find herself talking about it. “And saved by someone. My father, in a way, but more of a friend or brother. He took me on a ship to a safe place with a beautiful bay and I lived there, happily, for many years…” She had said too much, betrayed too much, and took a mouthful of the wine to silence her betraying tongue.“You are a vampire,” he filled the silence, stating it as calmly as if he were naming her star sign, rather than a supern

Ertonport, One Year BeforeThey made love throughout the rest of the night into the morning and slept with their limbs entangled. Meguitte woke early afternoon at the slightest stirring from him, her instincts triggered by the presence of a man, and a mostly human man at that, in her bed, and she lay in the glaring bright of the day and watched him sleep.She wasn’t sure what to do with her unexpected and complicated mate. His Lycanism was a hurdle she did not know how they would overcome. Could she even turn him vampire? And she knew so little about him, his likes, his dislikes, how he spent his time when he was not searching for a cure for his condition… But now that she’d had him in her body, in her bed, she wasn’t prepared to let him go. He was hers. He was her mate.She would walk through fire for him. She would bleed for him. She would suffer for him.She leaned her face into his hair and breathed in his scent, the layers of man, and something more earthy, more primal – the wolf

Ertonport, One Year Before“You know of Logan?” Meguitte asked as she took one of the armchairs set around a glossy coffee table, before the very-well done fake fireplace with its elegant portrait of Connery in clothing from a previous century.Logan took the seat to one side of her and Connery the other. The door opened again, spilling noise into the room, as a waiter brought a tall glass garnished with celery and mint and set it before Meguitte with a bow.“Oh, thank you,” she flushed, picking up the warmed glass. Of course, Connery had heated her some blood. He met her eyes and smiled as the waiter withdrew and the room hushed again. “Thank you, Connery.”“I always keep a fresh supply for you, Meguitte, of your favorite type,” he purred. “Of course,” he continued before she could respond. “I know of Logan Wren who arrived in my city three months ago and has been drifting between supernatural hangouts and businesses ever since, slowly infiltrating our community.”“I prefer to view i