Elders Prize – Lilith Saintcrow

On the one hand, it was clearly working to keep him occupied, and adding to her store of knowledge as a bonus. On the other, it probably wouldn’t do to get overly comfortable with this… with him. His gaze, dark and still, hadn’t left her once since he hopped up on the bed. Being watched this closely was unsettling as fuck.

“Leman are very rare.” Carefully, visibly choosing each word as he sank further, finally coming to rest sitting, mirroring her own position. “Most sanguinant spend centuries without ever confirming your kind exists, though we are on the whole instructed very carefully by our Makers or elders. It is part of the Ecologue—ah, what every member of the Blood should know.” His hands settled loosely on his knees. Straight-backed as a dancer, he didn’t seem uncomfortable in the least wearing boots while sitting tailor-fashion.

Rare. Okay. Layla wasn’t sure that was a compliment. She braced herself against the bed; it was getting to be a habit. “For a normal sanguinant, the moment one receives the Gift, there is danger.” Recited softly, like he’d given this speech before. “A fledgling may glut and suffer bloodcraze, and that often brings true-death. When dawn loses its grip, then one is an Elder and the risk of glut is much reduced, though still present. Of more concern is the killing sleep, when a sanguinant goes dormant, sinking into lethargy.

Starvation occurs then, and can bring true-death. Age adds strength and experience but also ossification —a rigidity, physical and otherwise. We become inflexible, apathetic, numb. And that⁠—” “Brings true death,” Layla supplied, eager to be a good student. Research was her primary role, after all. “Right?” “Indeed. Very good.”

A nod, and a slight smile. He was so straight- faced, the tiny movement had an outsized effect. “The only cure is a leman.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the writer’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Elder’s Prize Copyright © 2025 by Lilith Saintcrow Ebook ISBN: 9781641973694 Trade paperback ISBN: 9781641973748 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 100% human-created. No part of this book was created with “AI”. OceanofPDF.com For M. S., who who persevered. OceanofPDF.com CONTENTS Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Epilogue Excerpt from Fledgling & Archon, Book Three About the Author Also by Lilith Saintcrow OceanofPDF.com CHAPTER 1 Lookout duty was of course a necessity in any vampire-hunting team, but Layla Cartland wished it didn’t involve pretend kissyface with fellow soldiers.

“There’s that grey Acura again,” she murmured, shifting against warm, gritty bricks. A hot August night, soaking with humidity, had already plastered the pretty black sundress to her lower back. Even bare arms and legs offered no relief; the air was thick as cottage cheese and her toes were sweat-slippery inside cotton socks and combat boots.

“Same license plate— and will you quit that? It tickles.” “I hate having my back to the street.” At least Pete stopped rubbing his stubble on her hair. He was the only one short enough for her to see over his shoulder, and nobody would suspect a couple supposedly making out between two separate nightclub entrances of good taste, much less surveillance. It was the second spot on their rotation, the only bare patch of wall in sight, and next they’d move to an alley-mouth half a block down. She couldn’t wait.

Layla could probably count the fact that stocky, snub-nosed Pete inevitably got a chubby as a compliment to her own mild attractiveness, though the cheap cologne he dabbed on for every operation involving decoy or lookout made her sneeze. The wall she was propped against thudded faintly with dueling bass beats, a giant’s drowsy pulse.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

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• Title: –
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• ISBN: 9781641973694, 9781641973748
• Pages: 236
• Language: English (en)

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