Volik (Bonded Souls #1)

Chapter 1

Volik

My shoes connect with the sidewalk harder than I intend, scattering yellow leaves around my feet.

Considering my mood, I am glad the cement did not crack.

Taking a moment, I fill my lungs with the scent of the town.

The air is… the same.

The damp chill of morning mist. The decaying foliage. The clinging aroma of the people who inhabit this street on the outskirts of town.

It is all the same.

Frustration rakes down my spine because the scents are lying.

Something is not the same.

I lift my hand and run my fingers through my hair, acting like I am simply smoothing it back, but I press the side of my palm against the base of one of my horns.

I am tempted to lift my other hand so I can grip both horns, where they connect with my skull, and pull.

It would make me look insane to anyone who might be looking out a window, but tugging on the damned things is the only remedy that helps this intolerable headache.

Yet another thing that is not right.

Vampires do not get headaches.

Our bodies regenerate too fast. Everything heals itself. But this—

I clench my hand into a fist and force it down to my side as I press my tongue against the roof of my mouth, seeking relief there too, because my jaw also aches.

I have a vague memory, from centuries ago, of feeling a similar sort of pain in my mouth. And my mother telling me it was my body readying itself for my fangs to descend.

But my fangs are still right where they should be. And my mouth cannot fit any more teeth, so I do not know what in the gods is going on.

Annoyance growing, I start forward down the empty sidewalk.

For the sake of everyone, I should just turn around and jump right back home.

It is not a good idea to be around people. Not when I am feeling like this. But I have paced my house for the last half of the weekend, and I have to get out.

Maybe going somewhere else, somewhere new, would be smart. I could visit an unknown place as a distraction. But every time I even think about fleeing to another location, my mind insists I need to be here.

Reaching the end of the block, I take the left turn toward campus.

I make it four strides when a rustle sounds in the bush ahead of me, and a scraggly-looking squirrel jumps out, landing on the sidewalk.

I stop.

It stares at me.

I stare back.

It tilts its head. Like it’s judging me.

I open my mouth and hiss at it.

It darts into the street with a squeak.

Feeling slightly mollified, I watch it run across the blacktop, jump onto the opposite curb, and turn away from a pair of legs standing next to a mailbox.

Great.

Lifting my gaze, I watch the back of a man as he speed walks to his front door, leaving his mailbox hanging open.

Hissing at a squirrel might have been overkill, but I have been living outside this town for a decade, and I have never caused any issues. I walk this exact route more days than not. And that man’s scent is soaked into his yard and house, so he’s not new here. He’s just a coward.

I roll my eyes and continue walking.

A minute that feels like a year later, I reach campus.

This is still a residential neighborhood, but for the next several blocks, this side of the street belongs to the school. And behind the university is a forest that stretches many miles in either direction, bordering the town and extending north even farther.

Turning off the sidewalk, I step onto one of the many walking paths that crisscross through campus, cutting between and connecting the sturdy brick buildings that each host a different topic of study or purpose.

Passing under the gaudy arch that designates this as Stalden University, I take another deep breath, tasting the air.

Something…

I pause and close my eyes as I let the next inhale linger on my tongue.

Something is different.

I open my eyes and glare at the cloudy sky.

Fall semester started a few weeks ago, so a lot of new bodies arrived, changing the way the air smelled. But I have been here every weekday since. I know their scents. I know the way the air should feel here.

But it’s like that something is a ghost. A scent in some other dimension, disrupting the air waves here but still intangible. Like a mirage I can feel but cannot see.

My skull creaks as pain rolls through my bones, and I clench my jaw.

It is related.

The headache that should not exist and the scent I cannot smell… it all has to be related.

I scan the grounds. The students strolling across the lawn. The voices bouncing off buildings. Looking for anything that stands out.

But nothing does.

Nothing feels dangerous.

Giving in to my irritation over the whole morning, I undo the buttons at my cuffs and shove my sleeves up.

The cool air connects with my overheated forearms, and the clash of temperatures makes it look like my body is steaming.

Someone gasps behind me. Another downside of a new semester—new students who have never seen a vampire before. But I ignore them and head toward my office.