Neon White Season One: A Tooth, Claw and Horns Chronicle

by Wulf Francu Godgluck

  “Are you done, little girl?” he snapped, feeling the darkness deep within unraveling, stretching its silky, black fingers throughout his veins. He hated this power, wanted to never rely on it, but…for his Raven, he would. Her voice cut off on a strangled note at the other end of the line. He could hear her swallow, more feel her do so as he wrapped onyx-clawed fingers around her heart and squeezed deliberately slowly. A demon Master did not necessarily have to be in another being’s direct presence to affect them.

  “Listen to me, and listen to me very carefully, Dacian. You either have the information I want or you do not. Yes, we fucked, it was good, but it seems, you—as with too many others—have forgotten why they call me Bla’Gar the Callous One. Best you remember!”

  Glass shattered on the other end, followed by loud thud of flesh hitting a hard, solid surface, Clarissa’s breath wisped through the receiver, weak and panting. Bla’Gar retracted his power. Giving her several seconds to gain control again.

  “Now, will you help me?”

  “I’ll try.” She blew out a breath. “You said he burns in moonlight. How?”

  “Experimentation. You are aware supernaturals have gone missing.”

  “Yes, to be precise, more and more Strigoi are being reported missing.”

  “My theory is someone is seeking immortality without its side effect. Raven was bitten by one of the creatures created by experiments, and now I fear the amounts of demon blood I give to help quench his hunger is making the matter worse. He does not have a sire, and I—

  “Demon blood? Bla’Gar, when did this happen? How long ago?”

  “Four days.”

  “You should have called me sooner, how quickly can you get to Maine?”

  There was an urgency in her voice, something Bla’Gar had difficulty accepting. Clarissa did not do serious bitch, her carefree nature stuck to her like tick, but not this. “Why Maine?”

  “It’s been itching inside me for a couple of weeks now—the missing supers and vampires—I couldn’t place it, and so I pushed it aside. Now this... I have no other choice, Bla’Gar. It’s a sign; I need to awaken Laevius.”

  Bla’Gar licked his lips, remembering the ancient vampire. One of the oldest, even older than Clarissa. Laevius was amongst the first Strigoi ever sired. His lover, Androles being the oldest. Their love story however, bore a dark sinister taste, and Bla’Gar hoped that Laevius had come to his senses during his four-hundred and fifty-two years of sleep. The world did not need to be drenched in blood for a second time by the Impaler.

  Niko stared over the garden from the second story window of the mansion, watching Bla’Gar.

  The demon was unsettled, angry, and fuck, Niko didn’t like seeing the devil pissed off. There was scary...then there was fucking demon Bla’Gar, all red-skinned and scarred, with horns and spines. He wasn’t even gonna mention the anatomy between the demon’s legs. One dick was more than enough for Niko, thank you very much.

  He grimaced again when a howl tore through the mansion, the sickening melody of an animal, its limbs mangled and twisted, struggling for its last breath.

  When Bla’Gar had dragged the hissing Enforcer through the front door, Niko hadn’t been able to believe it was the same Raven whom he had spoken to several weeks ago.

  Something about this whole situation was off: Bla’Gar’s reaction to the detective’s death, to alpha Seth’s disappearance, to the countless hours the demon spent in the dungeon.

  Raven’s scent was another question mark. After Niko’s mating bite had taken effect, his sense of smell and hearing had shifted to overload. Bruce helped him still, to distinguish the scents and sounds he couldn’t understand. One of which was the scent of vampires. It had burned his nose, the smell of faint bleach, mixed with different sets of body odor, some having both male and female scents. It was a confusing glut for his nasal cavities. Apparently vampires smelled like those they drank from, along with whatever other chemicals were present in their meals’ blood. It was the reason why they were so hard to track down on scent alone.

  Detective Raven had a strange, sweet odor. Repugnant, it made Niko’s stomach turn, the way it clung to the man. No, a vampire. He wasn’t human anymore.

  But it was Detective White’s appearance that sent shivers over Niko’s flesh. Silver hair, and not the kind one would find on an aged person. This silver seemed to have a lucidity that didn’t match any natural or chemical-induced hair color. His porcelain skin appeared so soft that if one would touch it, it might rub away like powder, but those satin-black eyes, consuming even the white of his eyeballs, were what froze Niko’s bone marrow. They sucked you in, drew you deeper into their intense, dark cavern, while a feeling overcame you, a cold lapping tongue running over one’s flesh, spreading its dance to ice your soul.

  A second blood-curdling howl raked over his skin. Niko shuddered, blinked briefly and watched Bla’Gar end his call, turn and dash towards the mansion, more than likely racing to the creature.

  He spun away from the window, his gaze traveling the length of the room, following the path the moon touched. Her silver breath washed over the massive body on the bed. A whispered light that danced and rippled to the cuts and folds along the muscled flesh of Bruce’s black skin.

  Niko swallowed; the beast had become his eternity in such a short spell. It still terrified Niko what he felt for Bruce. Ever since that bite, his world had changed soul-shatteringly fast.

  No matter the confusion his overpowering emotions and senses wrought, he had to admit he’d grown fond of the Lycan long before...

  That night, music had pumped a pulsing zenith around him, sweaty bodies meshed and moved in liquid lust to the sounds of the club he frequented. But Niko had been hiding in the sea of desire. There was an asshole stalking him. Yes, he was paranoid since his parents had found out about his first couple of ventures into the gay clubs. Having an overbearing asshat for a father, and a mother who preached the Catholic life as if it was the only thing keeping her alive, was not easy for a baby gay.

  The first prickle had stuttered up his spine while he’d stood outside in line. A sensation of hot breath on his neck had made his skin pebble with ice-cold sweat. Each time he’d turned to confront the guy, there had been no one near enough to breathe on him. The group of guys who had stood behind him had been too invested in their conversation, and too far away for one of them to actually be rasping down Niko’s neck. He’d pushed it away as paranoia or, more than likely, he was coming down with something. By the time he’d reached the entrance and paid the cover charge, the back of his neck had been irritated and burning from rubbing it each time the prickle had pestered him.

  That sensation had followed him into the club and hunted him from its dark corners.

  He’d thought losing himself in the dense crowd would work, but...it hadn’t.

  The large club had felt too small, and not fucking crowded enough, and the discomfort of the invisible-stalker-ghost, like a leech to his skin, had been getting too fucking creepy for Niko.

  When a large hand had groped his ass and a tongue swiped along the back of his neck to his ear—all warm—he’d shivered from the wetness. He’d bolted for the back fire escape into an alley.

  Perched with his hands on his knees to catch his breath, he’d tried hard not to throw up. The world around him was dead. The humming buzz of the club a gray sound he’d hardly heard over the oscillation of his own racing heart. Niko hadn’t even looked back at who it was, too freaked out of his own skin.

  A growl had sang through the dark, making the still-wet hairs on his neck tingle and stand on end. Niko’d had to look up, falling down on his ass into the mucky sludge of the alley at what he’d seen.

  A black-hooded stranger had stood at the end of the alleyway, thick and bulging legs spread, arrayed in skin-tight leather pants and massively evil shit-kicker boots, while a leather-hooded jacket had concealed the colossus’ face.

  Niko had shivered, taking in the male’s daunting frame, l
arge and bulky. He’d reached up, gripping the raw-faced brick wall to pull himself back on his feet. A numbness of fear infected his legs, making them wobble when he’d paid closer attention to the man’s fists. Niko had flared his nostrils, fighting against the raw knot that had webbed itself in his stomach.

  He’d been certain this was a ploy set up by his parents to scare him out of being a fag.

  Those massive, dark fists had uncoiled, and yeah, fuck, Niko had to go piss himself upon seeing those fingers sporting sharp, coal-colored nails. The urine had burned the sensitive skin of his inner thighs as it stained his jeans. Fuck, all he’d wanted to do was hang out, dance, and maybe get drunk, now he was human meat for some freakazoid monster.

  Heightening the situation, moonlight had spilled down the alley as the winter clouds had given way, revealing a bare chest, warm, dark, rippling flesh ghosting off vapors that mixed with the cold night air.

  Niko had tensed as the moonlight had revealed a massive jaw, strong and prominent. It had to move while parting lips to display a flash of white, sharp teeth. Amber eyes glowed molten from under the hood’s shadow. The beast had growled, the reverberations shaking Niko’s bones as a thick cloud of warm breath met icy night, drifted from that snarling mouth. So dense had it been, the man might as well have had puffed out a haze of smoke.

  Niko had turned tail and sped towards the opposite end of the alley, his movement hampered by the pissed-stained jeans clinging to his legs, rubbing a fierce rash into his skin. Those shit-kickers in violent pursuit, he’d been sure kicked up asphalt as they’d bitten into the concrete, meeting the ground hard and loud, echoing off the brick walls.

  His lungs had grabbed for breath by the time he’d come to the end of the alley, cars zipped past, the flash of police lights a glimmering hope of safety.

  “Where are you going, human boy!” a demonic voice had rumbled. He’d been nabbed by his jacket’s collar, yanked back into the darkness and spun around. The massive archfiend had towered over him, holding him against the wall with Herculean strength.

  Niko gulped, if his heart hadn’t killed him with its chaotic velocity, thrashing madly against his ribcage, the prodigious man-thing definitely would.

  The warm, overwhelming scent of raw sweat had knocked the air from Niko’s lungs, and Niko had almost pissed himself a second time when the brute had given a low-pitched growl. Hot breath had spilled over Niko’s face and scraped the soft vulnerable flesh of his neck. He’d whimpered when a warm, fat nose had nuzzled along his left cheek.

  “Aren’t you the cutest human, I’ve ever seen?” The following deep groan had shaken Niko. He hadn’t been able to place the tone, the words a dark tremulous mass to his ears. “I’ve been watching you, puppy.” Fingers had pinched his chin. “And I want what I see.” That gilded gaze had mapped Niko’s skin, tongue peeking out to lick across the beast’s lips.

  And, fuck, shit, pancakes! He was going to get his ass slaughtered and massacred.

  Niko hadn’t been about to be a midnight rape snack for anyone, not when he could put up a fight. Even if it had resulted in him scarred and mauled to a meaty pulp.

  He’d twisted his knee, brought it up right towards the monstrosity’s bulge. A large clawed-hand had stopped him, growled, and then the fucker had pressed between Niko’s thighs, bring his massive black chest right into Niko’s line of sight, so close the heat of it had scorched his cheek.

  The rough-hewn flesh had grumbled with loud breaths as it had expanded. Small, faint hairs in little curls had been sprinkled over the black skin. And, oh-oh, Niko had taken in the chest harness spanning the man’s bulk, a single silver O-ring linking the strips of studded leather together in the center of his upper torso. Niko had glimpsed down at the leather pants, not that he had been able see much with the way the beast had crammed his bulge to Niko’s groin, but those leathers hadn’t been the type you’d slap on for a motorcycle ride. This man wasn’t just a beast, but a leather, fucking daddy, or some shit like that.

  He’d glared up at the bastard’s face, the strong jaw hard and tight, fat lips curled back showing his canines.

  Those liquid-honey eyes, glowing lustfully, had inspected Niko’s face, the gaze dipping lower, down Niko’s shirt, exposed by the gap his jacket offered, and farther down. He really couldn’t have worn a tighter muscle shirt and a snugger pair of jeans. The knot in his stomach had snapped with nervous tension as that gaze had devoured him. The black man had sneered before he’d grunted and brought his golden gape back to meet Niko’s.

  Niko’s breath had caught in his throat and his chest had pulled tight when a warm hand had cupped his cheek, nails gently scraping along his skin. Those talons loved to travel, it seemed. Niko’s muscles had rippled and jumped under them as sharp edges gently blemished a path down his neck, over his shirt and across his right pec and nipple to the center of his lower abdomen.

  He’d closed his eyes, trying to drown the whimper spilling from his lips as those claws had rasped over his jeans, my cock, and down his inner thigh.

  “I scared you...” the beast had murmured, and Niko had opened his lids. The fiend had sounded almost sad, the glow in his eyes had gone tender.

  “Dude!” Niko had choked out. “Have you seen yourself, you’re fucking Skeletor!” He’d bitten his lip; he really shouldn’t have been speaking. Not with the behemoth still pinning him to the wall. He’d still felt that minty breath blow hot on his face.

  “Sorry,” the beast had said and looked away. A long heavy sigh had passed the giant’s lips, before he’d brought that golden gaze back again.

  Niko had pressed himself into the wall, or had attempted to, when a long arm and a big black hand had braced itself against the bricks next to his head. He’d been paying too much attention to that left hand and none to the right one cupping the back of his head, fisting his hair, and—

  Warm lips had embraced his, while a tongue had sought entrance, lapping at his mouth. The animal had snarled, making Niko gasp, giving the beast the perfect, fucking opportunity to shove his fat tongue past Niko’s lips and softly caress Niko’s taste.

  Those lips had been arrogant but careful, meek in their hunger while the bastard’s tongue had indiscriminately interrogated his mouth.

  Niko had clenched his fists, closing his eyes at the sweet kiss lighting a fire through him. He’d bitten the fucker’s bottom lip when he’d retracted his tongue to flick at the seams of Niko’s mouth.

  He’d tasted the tang of iron in that bite, the pain forcing the beast back, a growl breaking from his lips while dark blood had dripped from the bottom one. It was all the time Niko needed to knee the fucker in the nuts. The big brute had stuttered back, not even clutching at his crotch, a grim smile on his face as he’d licked his kissers.

  Niko had spun and fucking made his legs outwork a marathon runner’s, all while his heart had attempted to give him a blood overdose and his lungs had striven to choke him to death. The beast’s raucous voice, deep and gravelly, sank fangs into Niko’s bones as it had rang out behind him, “I’ll let you run, puppy. I’ve know your scent. I will sniff you out.”

  Niko had kept running, too scared those words would be licking his neck in the next second…and disbelieving that the fire in his blood had cooked a hellish lust in his groin.

  Four weeks later, he’d met the beast-man again in a fucking tea store of all places.

  Niko had been staring at the university report before him on the table. He’d been failing his classes, not because he was stupid, but for the fact that Niko had been bored with their subject matter. His father clasped an iron hand around his future, strangling him to own up to his inheritance of the family business. He didn’t want this tradition passed to him, but he hadn’t known what he wanted to do with his life either. Still, his parents had never given him a choice in the matter, and that’s what had goaded him the most. There’d been no luxury of a gap year after high school to contemplate and figure shit out. Ever since he could remember, he had be
en told of what big shoes he would need to fill when he graduated from business school and partake in his father’s oil empire.

  That thought had always left a sickening twist in his gut. If it wasn’t his father, it was his mother’s sermons about God, how the ‘Almighty Fear’ would strike Niko down for even breathing wrong. He didn’t know how he was going to explain his low grades—the ‘I’m stupid card’ wasn’t going to work in his favour—and he was sure he would get more than a religious earful.

  If it’d been a case of telling his parents to go fuck themselves, it would have been far less complex than it was. The Faler’vons were not only amongst the wealthiest of families in Québec, but his father had far more influence and power beyond that of his company. He could have easily spread the word, giving Niko a bad reputation and creating a situation where it would have been difficult to find a job to sustain himself.

  After his parents had gotten word of his sinfully deviant activities, they had cut his allowance to almost nothing. His father had become vicious, slamming Niko against the wall with a hand around his neck. He’d told Niko exactly what a bad choice he was making, but more importantly, what a bad reflection Niko would be on his father’s white liberal-supporting empire. Then he’d booked Niko a whore to try and sway his mind towards the right direction. Niko had stared at the woman, feeling sad for her, till she’d removed her clothes and spread herself for him… Yeah, the lady had run a mile a second, all covered in vomit.

  A shadow had crept and towered over him. Niko had looked up, mapping his gaze across the table with its teapot and hand knitted doilies, embroidered flowers on the floral tablecloth, straight past the decadent cupcakes. Dark-blue jeans, cupping a very large bulge had filled his gaze. He had swept his inspection up past the black belt and across the pink flannel that had sat snugly against a very firm, beefy body. Then past the dark skin of crossed arms with bulging muscles to the handsome face.