Rhylan

by Emilia Hartley

The center of the space was dominated by a large rectangular bar where two servers were going mad in an attempt to keep up with drink orders. Pitchers of beer flowed to the patrons who eagerly guzzled at their beverages.

  Nobody took notice of the pair at first, Alex scanned about the room looking for someone normal. Failing that, he looked for someone that might be helpful. It looked like this was going to be a long night. Cynthia stood close behind doing her best to keep her shirt from flying too high. A woman near the door started giving the pair looks, then a table creaked as more stared. Within moments the entire bar was whispering about the newcomers.

  Alex coughed into his sleeve and the bar launched into uproarious laughter. Fucking bikers. They’re the least helpful people in the world. He coughed again to clear his throat and started talking to the person nearest. She was roughly Cynthia’s size and wore a tightly stretched tube top that barely covered her sagging boobs. A leather jacket spilled over her shoulders and a pair of leather pants, that left nothing to the imagination, disappeared into a thick set of motorcycle boots.

  “We’re looking for-”

  “A good time?” she asked, interrupting Alex. She had a smile that screamed fuck me but Alex wasn’t in the market.

  “No that’s not quite-,” he attempted but was cut off again.

  “You’re goin’ to have to talk to someone else, kid,” she said. She ran her hand down his shirt, feeling his abs. He gulped with discomfort. Cynthia growled and bared her teeth. Getting the hint, the girl backed away.

  The bikers from outside pushed their way inside, shoving Alex a little too hard as they passed. Alex grunted while his rage continued to build. Just deal with it for now. He only needed one person to give him directions and he could get the hell out of here. That was the problem, finding someone who wasn’t a jackass. Alex approached another table.

  “Get lost,” the biker said preemptively.

  Cynthia squealed when the girl sitting at the table tugged at the edges of her shirt. She reached out a hand and slapped the woman away.

  “Hey,” the biker shouted, “nobody touches my girl but me.”

  He stood to his feet, the chair he’d been sitting on clattered to the floor. This dude was bulky to say the least. He was probably three times larger than Alex at the waist, with arms wrapped in muscle and covered in old tattoos that showed their age. At full height, he dwarfed every other biker in the bar.

  Alex knew how this was going to go down; he knew how alpha males worked. He’d lived under the shadow of one his entire life; his sister was getting married to one. Alex was used to backing down, to hiding, to running away; but he wouldn’t dream of doing that this time. Even when his opponent could floor him easily; Alex had his pride.

  “We should go,” Cynthia whispered in his ear.

  Not this time.

  Alex stood and glared back at the biker that cast a long shadow over him. He wasn’t backing down. Alex’s heart pounded in his chest. The voice that had, until now, been silent began to whisper in his ears. Alex could do nothing to quiet its influence.

  Show them; show them what it means to be the top dog.

  “You want us to get rid of him, Mutt?” Alex heard from behind.

  “Naw,” the biker said, “I’ll take care of this one myself. He needs to learn some manners.”

  Mutt emptied his pockets on the table then cracked his knuckles and neck. The rest of the bar watched, the music cut out in the back while some laughed at the beating that Alex was about to receive.

  “They call you Mutt?” Alex asked.

  “That’s me,” He snorted and spat in Alex’s face.

  Alex wiped the saliva from his face. Cynthia started to step in to break up the fight but this wasn’t a fight he wanted stopped. He needed this right now.

  “Stand back, Cynthia,” Alex managed.

  “But-” she said.

  Alex held up a finger to hush her and she knew her place. The glare in Alex’s eyes said it all. She backed away to stand near the bar.

  Mutt reared back with his leather clad fist. He threw his entire weight into the punch. It moved so slowly Alex felt he could have dodged it blindfolded. He twisted his body out of the way and Mutt’s fist hit nothing but air. The force from the punch blew past his face and kicked up a small breeze.

  “Your one mutt that needs to be put down,” Alex said. The taunt pissed off his attacker even more. Good, let him throw all the punches he wants.

  He balled up his other fist and reared back again. Alex clenched his teeth and felt the rage boiling just below the surface; years of frustration and anger, years of feeling useless and small. He was ready to let it all out.

  Mutt’s fist flew towards Alex, but Alex wouldn’t let it strike this time, either. Instead he grabbed Mutt by the wrist and directed the punch into the wood of the bar. Mutt roared with pain as his knuckles cracked down into the wood.

  “What the hell are you people doing,” Mutt shouted, “Kick his ass!”

  Alex looked around the bar. The gang was already advancing on him with whatever weapons they had handy, a knife, a chain, a cracked beer bottle. He had seen people protect morons like Mutt his entire life.

  Typical.

  The sting of a pool cue cracked along his back. He didn’t even need to dodge the blow. His shifter strength allowed him that much. However, what he’d intended as a light shove instead sent the man flying and he came to a crash ten feet away smashing through a table. If they all wanted a fight he would give them one.

  Mutt reached out and tried to grab Alex by the neck to choke him, but he was still wasn’t fast enough. Alex used his strength to toss Mutt through the pub window with extreme effort. Mutt screamed as he tumbled on the wooden patio just outside.

  The bikers charged. Two tried to grab Alex by the arms but his strength was too great and he threw them both into Mutt’s table. The girls wailed and made for the exit as the brawl erupted.

  Another biker swung a chain that caught Alex around the neck. He strained against the tightening noose and pulled the biker along with his side of the chain, tossing him out the window and onto Mutt.

  A knife plunged into his side and Alex reared back in pain. As he pried the metal from his side, the wound flowed with rich crimson blood. He tossed away the weapon and grabbed the biker by the shirt, hurling him down the bar.

  Everyone in the bar was fighting Alex now, but the attackers could do little to overpower him. He was the center of a raging storm of fists, clubs, and knives that were used to almost no effect. He dealt with each of the assailants as they came. Each bruise and cut they made on his skin he wore as a badge of honor and yearned for more.

  He savored the battle, the little voice inside him raged with excitement. He laughed through a bloodied mouth at the biker’s attack as he threw them about the bar. With each punch he dodged or knife he snapped he lost himself just a bit more until almost nothing remained.

  Everything swirled around, like being stuck on a carousel for too long, he didn’t know if it was from blood loss or something else. The little voice inside his head came louder with each passing second.

  Kill! Hunt!

  “NO!” he shouted aloud.

  He snapped himself to his senses just in time to meet the receiving end of a shotgun. Mutt pointed the short double barrel at Alex’s face and smiled broadly.

  “You messed with the wrong man,” Mutt said.

  Boom!

  Everything paused. Alex looked behind him and saw Cynthia clutching at her ears from the deafening sound. As he watched the muzzle of the shotgun he saw it grow brighter and brighter. The pellets in the barrel ricocheted against their enclosure, seeking the only exit. His eyes widened at the incoming peril and his body moved on its own. Everything went back to normal, or so he thought.

  “Alex!” Cynthia shouted in fear.

  A deep rumbling growl reverberated in the air as Alex raised himself to his feet. His body was completely unscathed and the wall behind him cracked and spli
ntered from the force of the shotgun blast. Alex twisted at Mutt’s arm, bones snapped and his shotgun fell to the floor. His teeth grew into sharp canines and he readied himself to rip out Mutt’s throat.

  Alex wasn’t in control anymore.

  What the fuck?

  The wolf was standing there, threatening Mutt. Alex felt tired, waves of fatigue set in and he just wanted to rest. He had no control over himself anymore.

  “Stop right there, Asshole,” shouted a biker from behind.

  Alex’s wolf paused just at Mutt’s throat and turned to see the new threat. Cynthia stood with her hands over her head and the biker held a gun to her back.

  Kill him.

  Alex shook his head. The piece of him that remained tried to fight against the creature that controlled his body. With great effort he managed to release the broken biker to the ground.

  Kill them all. Strip them of their power!

  Alex grabbed at his head, and fell to his knees. He could feel himself split in two; the beast that had always been there, and the man he wanted to be. The battle inside him waged, he still held the leash he’d kept on his wolf but the chain was nearly broken. He fought as hard as he could to bring it back to heel.

  No, I don’t want it!

  “Alex!” Cynthia shouted again. The biker that held her hostage let her go and tended to his own, carrying Mutt from the bar.

  Alex opened his eyes to see her crying at the monster he had become. He reached out to Cynthia, struggling with all his might to maintain his humanity.

  You’re nothing without me.

  Alex brought himself to all fours and pulled harder at the chain inside. He needed to be free of the monster now. Every reserve of energy that remained in his mind was tapped as he began to feel his humanity return.

  “What’s happening to you, Alex,” Cynthia whispered.

  Nothing. I’m still me.

  He felt the wolf release his body and he fell to the floor. Cynthia lifted his head into her lap. Tears flowed down her face. Alex reached a hand up and wiped a tear away, pressing his hand into her cheek.

  “Alex,” she said, “I thought I lost you.”

  “You nearly did.”

  You will.

  The bikers around the bar climbed sorely back to their feet, shaking off the wounds they’d received. Cynthia helped Alex back to his feet and he again scanned the room. Only a handful of bikers remained. He knelt to the ground and found his prize; Mutt’s keys.

  “Two things are going to happen,” Alex shouted to the remaining bikers, “My girlfriend is going to get a set of clothes that fit, and one of you bastards are going to give me some damn directions!”

  CHAPTER 14

  Damn I look good.

  He didn’t. Almost every inch of exposed skin was covered in first aid bandages carefully applied by Cynthia. At least his clothes fit now. He’d taken a cycling outfit from one of the bikers, leather jacket, check; sturdy jeans, check; badass biker boots, double check. He clomped on the wooden walkway and sifted through the remaining motorcycles to see which matched the keys he took as a trophy from Mutt. Once he found it, he fell in love. It wasn’t just an infatuation sort of deal, it was true love.

  The old bike was well taken care of, sporting a matte black finish on the gas tank and fenders. The wide rawhide brown seat had custom engraved stitching that simply read ‘Mutt’. The chromed engine looked beefy and polished. He fit the key in the ignition and cranked the kick start, letting the beast roar to life. He thought he was in heaven but the second he laid eyes on Cynthia leaving the bar, he realized things could only get better.

  Her hips twisted seductively while she walked. Her simple red tube top hugged against her small boobs, her leather jacket looked comfortable and billowed open. Her long slender legs were just barely covered by leather pants that fit her like a glove, and hid inside her riding boots.

  “I look like an idiot,” she said.

  And the award for hottest girlfriend in the world goes to …

  Alex had to wipe away a smear of drool that formed at the corner of his mouth. And, he now regretted finding tighter fitting clothing as he readjusted his erection.

  “I think you look nice,” he said, gulping back his attraction.

  She rolled her eyes but Alex could see a smile forming. She knew she was hot and wasn’t afraid to show it. With her new riding boots she stomped down the stairs, zipping the jacket up as far as it would go to protect against the cold night air.

  “Do you know how to ride one of these?” Cynthia asked, throwing a leg over the bike behind Alex.

  “I think I can manage,” he replied.

  He carefully inched his way from the parking lot and twisted the throttle, eliciting a howl from the engine. Cynthia wrapped her slender arms around his waist to hold herself in place.

  “Be careful now,” Cynthia said, “The engine from this bike might just take your place.”

  With a quick laugh, Alex rode the throttle and the bike peeled from the dirt lot, out onto the open road. The single light at the front provided a hint of illumination so Alex had to rely on his heightened senses to guide him. The sound from the exhaust overpowered his sense of hearing and deafened him to everything else. He liked it. It gave him time to think. He’d become numb to everything going on around him, even Cynthia holding him tightly couldn’t distract him. What the hell is happening to me? His wolf was anxious; scratching and pawing at the edge of his mind.

  What the hell was that back there?

  Ever since the first attack by the bears all those months ago, he’d felt useless. He couldn’t even protect his sister from one measly bear. Cynthia. All he wanted to do was protect her, but he could barely control himself when he snapped at Otto’s bar. It took every piece of him to hold it together long enough to regain his humanity. What would happen if he lost it again?

  His mind wandered to his youth. His father only had harsh words and punishment for all the times Alex had fucked up. Thinking about it made him subconsciously grit his teeth. Dammit dad, why couldn’t you have just taken the time to teach instead of scold? Why couldn’t he have learned to control his wolf better?

  Alex didn’t have anything to say to Cynthia. Besides, it would have been pointless anyway as the motorcycle made it impossible to hear a damn thing.

  From out of nowhere, another engine bellowed out behind them, then another, and another. Soon they were surrounded on all sides by large bikers. Their jackets were different from the one he’d taken, were these guys part of a different gang? Alex wasn’t interested in finding out.

  Not now, just leave us the hell alone.

  Alex could already feel his strength start to surge. His mind was beginning to succumb to the instinctual urge to fight and survive. Amid the lurid smoke of the motorcycles he smelled something familiar, these bikers were wolves.

  Wolf bikers?

  The largest of the group seemed so damn familiar. A bushy beard with short cropped hair, hell even the motorcycle seemed like something he’d seen before, but he couldn’t place where. The giant of a man looked the pair up and down then gestured with one finger for them to pull over to the side of the road. Alex’s curiosity itched. The rage that began to consume him dissipated by the time the bike came to a stop on a grassy patch beside the otherwise empty street.

  The band of new bikers pulled over and settled their bikes to form a semi-circle around Cynthia and Alex.

  “You’re shifters,” Alex said, surprised.

  “Took you long enough to find out,” The giant man guffawed.

  He stood behind the gathered men and towered over them all by more than a head in height; he pushed past the group with slow plodding steps. Alex’s instincts were on alert but he didn’t feel any hostility from the wolves. The light from the surrounding motorcycles cast a halo around him and his shadow crawled over the assembled crowd.

  “Why the hell are you wearing that jacket?” he said with a gruff voice. “Ain’t no wolf on these mountains that
would be caught dead in that.”

  “It was either this or freeze,” Cynthia said.

  “Pipe down, Pup. I’m talkin’ to your man,” he replied.

  “Pup?!” she shouted. Alex grabbed her by the arm to hold her still. He’d seen her mad with rage before and her getting pissy was the last thing they needed right now.

  Here we go again.

  Cynthia didn’t seem to care that he was, well, four times her size.

  “Where you headed?” he asked.

  “Night Runner den,” Alex answered, still holding Cynthia at bay.

  “What the hell is a Night Runner?” he asked.

  “The Night Howlers and the Moon Runners got together recently. Renamed themselves the Night Runners,” said one of the other bikers. Alex just nodded.

  “Why the hell did nobody tell me that?” he asked. He looked over the other bikers and was met with shrugs. Then he rubbed at the side of his face with his hand out of frustration. In time he returned to face Alex. “You’re quite a ways from home, kiddo.”

  Holy shit!

  Alex remembered where he’d seen the man before. The photograph. The one Miss Bannon showed him just a couple days ago. He didn’t make much of it but he looked just like the man she’d said was Cynthia’s father.

  “Bruce?” Alex asked in disbelief.

  “What did you say?” He asked, surprised.

  “Bruce. That’s your name isn’t it?” Alex repeated. The giant leaned down to get eye to eye with Alex. His leather cracked and strained against the movement.

  “Where did you hear that name,” he asked.

  Alex wasn’t sure he should answer, but he’d already dug the hole.

  “Miss Bannon from back home had a picture. She showed a guy in the photo that looked a lot like you and said your name was Bruce.”

  “Damn, that old hag. Is still alive?” he said, “I half expected she’d be dead by now.” He laughed loudly, and Alex joined in awkwardly. “Yeah, my name is Bruce. But everyone that knows me calls me Crunch.”

  Cynthia reached out and slapped Crunch across the face. Everyone went silent and Alex freaked out.

  What the hell are you doing, Cyn!?