Killer Cruise (Project 26 Book 11)

by Mark Woods

  But whereas normally he always took her from behind to prevent any possible chance of her falling pregnant – something neither of them wanted and that could end up having dire consequences for both of them if it ever happened – this time he had fucked her twice. Once the way she always wanted, in the missionary position, and then once again the way he liked it. Lukaas had then left her, still dripping with his seed over her soiled and dirty sheets whilst he went off to go and vent his rage.

  It had taken him three days to find the Vampyre who had been responsible for marking her and when he did, Lukaas had found him through one of Lottie’s other lovers.

  The guy was a soldier from another unit, someone Lukaas had seen around but never had much to do with. This one night, he was going around boasting about this ‘tasty little piece’ he had been with who, he claimed, was a dirty little slut that let him do whatever he pleased to her. Lukaas had paid the man little interest and largely ignored him in the past, but that night, had heard him mention a strawberry birthmark, shaped like a heart, located on one of the girl’s thighs – exactly where Lottie herself had a mark – and known instantly who it was the man was talking about.

  Incensed with rage, Lukaas had followed the man outside and killed him – beaten him to a bloody pulp – and it had been then, as he had died, that the man had spilled his guts.

  There was another who had fucked her, he told Lukaas as he lay dying on the floor – sometimes at the same time as him. An American serviceman who liked to bite the girls he went with, and had a taste for human blood.

  If Lukaas let him go, the man swore he would lead him right to him.

  Lukaas had made the man tell him everything he knew; where the Vampyre hung out, what he looked like, and then he’d killed him anyway, leaving the man’s body there in the alleyway for someone else to find.

  Then he’d gone hunting…

  ***

  For the Vampyre, tonight had been a busy night. He had already fed his fill once, much earlier tonight, and was now busy pretending to get drunk so that he could scope out more potential victims for later when he might need to feed again. The only problem was, any booze he drank always went straight through him, quite literally, leaving him constantly needing to piss. It was one of the few disadvantages of no longer being alive. Drink tended to do that now – go straight through him.

  The Vampyre always chose to piss in alleyways whenever he needed to go, both because it was more private and because other patrons tended to notice someone who when he urinated, did so in streams of dark, red blood. The one time he had tried to use a stall, several years back, the splash back he’d left behind left the small cubicle looking like an abattoir.

  He had only just made it out of the establishment before someone went in there behind him and the screams had started.

  In an alley such as this, most of the blood would wash away long before anybody noticed. It did mean, however, that he would probably need to feed again much sooner than he’d planned, to help replace some of the vital life fluid he was currently pissing away.

  As a steady stream began to flow, the Vampyre had the sudden sense of someone watching him. His preternatural senses focused on the rear of the alley he was in and spotted a pair of eyes, staring back at him from further up the alley, hidden in deep shadow.

  “Hey, you back there,” the Vampyre called out. “You looking for a fight, or you looking for a fuck? Cos either way, you’re picking on the wrong fucking guy. Why don’t you just go do yourself a favour and fuck off, okay? Before you make me have to come back there and fuck you up, you hear me?”

  The Vampyre was doing his best to try and make himself sound much more brave and assertive than he actually felt. He had a strong inclination who – or what – might be waiting for him back there, and figured a show of strength, or forced bravado might just be enough to scare the other creature off.

  When whoever – or whatever – it was, waiting for him back there at the end of the alley, slowly and deliberately began to growl, the Vampyre felt his earlier suspicions starting to pay off.

  “Look, I think we both know what all this is about,” the Vampyre said hurriedly, zipping himself up. “Maybe we could, I don’t know, just talk about it perhaps? That bitch I fucked, I mean. That is what all this is about, right? Because I fucked her when I knew she was yours?

  “Hey, you know…how about a compromise? Maybe we could share her or something...I mean, she tasted soooo sweet, it would be such a shame for me to give her up entirely...maybe we could come to some kind of arrangement or something, you know?”

  “No,” the deep, husky voice replied, speaking out from the other end of the alley, deadly menace evident in its tone. “I really don’t think that’s something that’s ever likely to happen...”

  As he finished talking, Lukaas leapt from the shadows, transforming into his wolf form at the same time, even as he launched himself at his prey. His razor sharp claws lashed out, slicing through the Vampyre’s throat, almost decapitating the immortal and sending him sprawling to the floor. Dark, crimson blood sprayed out all over Lukaas as he viciously continued his assault upon his victim, slowly tearing the other creature apart before the Vampyre’s preternatural abilities could kick in and help him heal. Caught totally unawares – convinced he could still talk his way out of trouble even in his last, dying moments – the Vampyre never stood a chance. He was obviously a young blood, Lukaas thought, and probably had little prior experience of dealing with Lycanthropes, but that was no excuse.

  He needed to be made an example of – it was, Lukaas thought, a matter of pride.

  Within a couple of minutes, it was all over, bits and pieces of the immortal now quite literally decorating the whole alley.

  After covering up his tracks, and making the death look like the work of a Hunter, Lukaas made his escape as swiftly and quietly as he’d come. By the time anyone from inside the pub came out to investigate what was keeping the Vampyre from buying the next round, Lukaas was already gone.

  ***

  One of his brethren and fellow pack members was sitting there, waiting for him when Lukaas finally returned to the tiny attic loft he rented on the other side of town.

  “You,” his pack brother told him as soon as Lukaas climbed through the window of his small apartment, “have been very, very stupid. Very stupid indeed. The Alpha will be pissed.”

  “The Alpha doesn’t need to know,” Lukaas replied. “Not about tonight. Not unless you tell him.”

  Lukaas had taken precautions with the Vampyre after he was done; stuffing the creature’s mouth with garlic to make it look like a Vampyre Hunter was responsible, rather than a Lycanthrope. Covering all his bases so that there would be no possible way that any of him or his kind would ever get the blame, or so he thought. As far as he was aware, he had left behind no evidence that might possibly end up instigating a turf war between their two species and so, as far as he was concerned, the presence of his pack brother here right now was unnecessary.

  Because of his actions tonight, another dirty, stinking Vamp was off the streets, and though Lukaas knew The Alpha would not be happy if he learnt about it, as far as Lukaas was concerned, what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him…

  “I’m not talking about tonight,” the other wolf replied. “Though no doubt The Alpha will be pissed about that too. No, I was talking about that bitch that you’ve been fucking. You’ve gotten too close, become attached. You should have just let the bloodsucker have her, walked away. You know, don’t you, there is no way The Alpha will ever allow you to take her as your mate?”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lukaas snorted. “She means nothing to me. The Vampyre was taunting me, offering me a challenge by fornicating with my bitch, even after I had already marked her as mine. I couldn’t let that go. You know that.”

  “That bitch,” the wolf continued, “will prove to be your undoing. The Alpha knows everything. I have been tailing you for weeks and you never even
noticed – and all because you have been too busy sniffing around that human bit of tail. I already told him everything, and tonight’s little performance will just be the icing on the cake when I share that with him too. The Alpha wants you home. He has summoned you back, back to the pack.

  “As of tonight.

  “He believes that you have begun turning native; that you have forgotten your roots, gotten too close to the humans, and have lost sight of the best interests of the pack. Your actions tonight will no doubt only serve to help fuel those suspicions.

  “He wants you back in New York, no questions asked, and will not take no for an answer.”

  Lukaas thought about refusing – he could probably take this young pup in a fight – but then decided it really wasn’t worth it. He was too old and long in the tooth now to become a Ronin – a wolf without pack. No instead, he decided, he would go home and face the music; take whatever consequences for his actions and behaviour the Alpha saw fit to punish him with, and hopefully, that would be the end of it.

  Lottie would be fine on her own back here in London. The war was over after all, and the woman was a survivor. Maybe one day, in a year or two, when he had finished paying his dues to his Alpha, he could even try and come back for her.

  Lukaas had packed his bags and left that very night, without looking back.

  Now, standing here by the docks, almost two months later, Lukaas idly wondered now if his and Lottie’s paths really would ever cross again.

  Maybe that was why she was always on his mind so much of late, he considered, because maybe, somehow, the two of them were connected in ways they did not know. Destined to be together; fated to meet again at some later point in both their futures.

  Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part…

  What’s happening to me? Lukaas wondered. Lottie was just a dumb human, there was nothing special about her, and yet…

  A part of him still missed her, couldn’t seem to get her off his mind.

  She means nothing to me, Lukaas told himself, and did his best to try and convince himself he believed that, even though, deep down, he knew he was only lying to himself.

  He had no idea she was pregnant.

  And if he had, he never would have left her …

  Five years later…

  Lukaas’ Story

  Charlotte Winterton stared out across the waters of the deep blue ocean, from the upper deck of the luxury cruise ship, The Bellastaria – destined to finally take her back home to London after several months abroad – and did her best to try and relax.

  Behind her, Charlotte’s new husband, Doctor Henry Arthur Winterton, wrapped his arms around her and gently held her close.

  This was to be the last leg of their recent honeymoon, spent travelling the Americas; a luxury cruise voyage that would take them both back to Portsmouth, England, from where they could then begin the slow journey back to their new house, waiting for them in London. A slow journey, because they would be stopping off to visit with some of Henry’s relatives along the way before they eventually reached their new home.

  It was hard to think they had been together now for almost four whole years.

  Henry had been her Doctor. He had helped her all the way through what had ended up being a very difficult and troublesome pregnancy, and had been her rock, her life-saver all throughout the horrific labour that had followed. He had even stuck by her, stayed with her, and helped oversee her subsequent treatment and recovery, even after everything was all over.

  And somewhere along the way, in all that time spent together, the pair had fallen in love. Or rather, Henry had fallen in love with her. It had taken Lottie – Charlotte now, she reminded herself – a long time to accept how she felt about him in return. Eventually though, in time, she had finally succumbed to both his – and her – desires and five weeks ago, almost to the day, they had been married.

  Now, finally they were returning home to England after an extensive honeymoon. Not as lovers, but as Mr and Mrs. Winterton; newlyweds, and now husband and wife.

  ***

  Thinking about her ill-fated pregnancy again after all these years sent a shiver down Lottie’s spine, even now. The difficult and almost life-threatening labour she had been forced to endure had left her unwilling to ever again risk getting with child. Thankfully Henry, having been there at the delivery and having seen what she had given birth to, was perfectly alright with her not wanting any more children.

  Charlotte thought that was probably a good thing.

  If he had wanted to press the issue, they probably – definitely, she thought – would not have been together right now.

  The baby, when it had eventually come all those years ago, after hours of painful labour, had been a monstrosity, some kind of freak.

  Half wolf, half human, just like the creatures from her dreams.

  The baby had been born covered in a fine coat of hair, a wolf-like snout protruding from its face, and sharp, vicious fangs emerging from its jaws.

  Thankfully, it hadn’t lived. Not quite still-born, the creature had died shortly afterwards, after no more than a few hours of life.

  The intensity of her labour had almost killed her too – and probably would have if not for Henry. When she saw what she had given birth to, Charlotte had temporarily lost her mind, but when she was eventually released from the County asylum six months later, Henry had been waiting for her.

  He had taken her in – her sister, Elizabeth having refused to have any more to do with her after witnessing the devil child her loins had produced – and had cared for her, overseen her rehabilitation, and eventually, at some point, the two of them had become lovers. Secretly and illicitly to begin with, for polite society frowned on Doctor-patient relationships, but then more openly as time moved on.

  To start with, their love had only been a physical one – Charlotte refusing to allow herself to become emotionally attached – but, eventually, after some time, Henry had worn her down.

  It was only after she was finally able to come to terms with the fact that he really wasn’t going anywhere, and that he really, truly cared for her, that Charlotte had eventually given in and had agreed to marry Henry.And she hadn’t regretted a single moment ever since.

  The days since their wedding had been amazing, and amongst some of the best days of her life.

  The sense of relief that she now felt at finally making their relationship all official and legal, after years of being shunned by polite society for living in sin, was immense, and if their first five weeks of marriage together were anything to go by, Charlotte was sure they had a very bright future ahead of them indeed.

  Right now, she felt as though she had been reborn, rejuvenated, and given a second chance to begin her life anew. It felt like she were dancing on cloud nine, like she was walking in mid-air, and Charlotte didn’t want to lose a single minute of that feeling.

  But it was just then, as she looked down that, to her amazement, from somewhere on the deck below, Charlotte suddenly saw her ex-lover, Lukaas, staring right back up at her, and it was all that she could do not to scream.

  Henry felt her tense and asked what was wrong, but when she looked back again, he was gone.

  Must have just been my imagination, she tried to tell herself. It couldn’t possibly have been him…

  But Charlotte knew what she’d seen.

  Lukaas was here.

  Here on the ship.

  But why now? She thought. Why here…?

  ***

  One of the main things that Henry had helped Charlotte with during the course of her rehabilitation back into society, after being released from the asylum where she had been committed shortly after giving birth, was the reoccurrence of her dreams.

  Slightly different from those she had experienced before, and appearing far less frequently than those she had experienced during her pregnancy, the dreams, or nightmares, had started coming at least once a month; usually around the time of the full moon, and always a
round the same time as her menses.

  In these dreams, just as in the previous ones she had always told him about, Charlotte claimed she would always find herself running through the woods again, but this time not as herself, instead as a she-wolf; the sights, sounds and smells of nature all around her flooding and overwhelming her senses.

  And as with all her previous nightmares, these dreams would always end the same – this time not with her screaming as she was torn apart from the inside, but instead with her doing the ripping and tearing as she ravenously devoured a small, defenceless animal, tearing at it with her teeth as she fed upon its flesh; sating an appetite and hunger the like of which she had not experienced since back before when she had been pregnant.

  The dreams, when they came, dredged back memories that Charlotte had long thought forgotten. Memories of her waking up outside her sister’s house, the bloody body of a cat or other small animal clutched tightly in her arms half-eaten. On those nights when the dreams returned, Charlotte would often, once again, find herself awakening in a similar state to that she had back in those days; often outside, naked, her hands and feet dirty and filthy where she had been scrabbling through the woods on all fours, supposedly hunting for prey.

  This time though, one thing at least was different. This time she was not alone, for whenever she would awaken, Henry would always be there, beside her, to help keep her calm and try and comfort her.

  Henry would always tell her on those nights when she would awaken and find herself outside that she had merely been sleepwalking; that he had followed her to keep her safe and that the dreams were just that, dreams and nothing more. In time, Charlotte even began to believe him.

  She had no reason to even suspect he might be lying.

  Henry began prescribing her medication to help reconcile her sleep patterns, keep her in bed, and make the dreams come less frequent – and for a while, the pills he gave her actually seemed to work. After a time though, Charlotte’s night-time excursions resumed, and when she again found herself waking up with dirty feet, she slowly began to suspect that the pills didn’t stop her, they only helped her to forget.