~~~
A lone man crossed the threshold from one kind of darkness to another.
There was no sound other than the quiet chirping of crickets and the rustling of other tiny beasts that roam the night.
He slipped through thick leaves, humid with the night’s air. Deep greenery surrounded him on all sides. Trees of various essences, some even tropical, stood all around him and gave silent witness as he lifted his face skyward.
The moon hid herself behind the clouds, refusing the man and his desire to see her, to feel her gentle light upon him while his own private forest sheltered him from the harsh reality of his existence.
The rich odors of plant growth so dense that it could have dated to antediluvian times wafted in the calm night air and allowed nothing of the city below to penetrate.
For the man stood upon a great glass encrusted tower that rose like a spike toward the heavens and the overgrown garden surrounding him had been birthed by the hands of man. The last three floors of the skyscraper were devoted to a space open to the sky and the riot of leaves and wild growth had begun as blueprints upon paper.
But the wilderness cares not for men, nor their orderly plans. In time the natural world had imposed itself in the most unlikely of places and that the tower top held the apparent chaos of nature itself while so many floors below, the world of modern finance and industry believed itself an indomitable and orderly master; well, the irony of it was to the man’s greatest pleasure.
With a groan, he shrugged off his simple white shirt and his massive form glistened in the darkness.
As thickly muscled as the most devout bodybuilder, he shrugged his shoulders, rolling them, loosening them while his skin rippled with their movement.
And across the skin of his torso, black patterns criss crossed in every direction. Spirals of strange symbols interlaced along his ribs to an intaglio of darkness emblazoned over his entire body.
To the untrained eye, he would have appeared to be tattooed in an intricate tribal style. To a very rare few, a handful of learned occultists hidden away in obscure corners of the world, he would have appeared to be a living book.
For the symbols comprised ancient runes meant for one thing--a forgotten language destined to bridge the gap between the realms of the living and of the dead.
His skin rippled again, although this time it was not of his doing. Rather, it was the symbols themselves that shifted and seethed across his body.
And, with a sound that echoed in cavernous tones, a deep voice rose in the darkness.
“You seek to drown me out, Braze. There where each day the clamor of puny men hides you from me, silencing my council.”
The man did not answer and the twisting runes continued their serpentine dance across his skin.
“So hear me now and listen well. Ware the female. No good will come of her.
“But, more than this, listen to your instincts and prepare yourself for battle. Powers have begun to stir and when subtlety turns to action, I believe our very existence shall hang in the balance.”
Brazier Abraxis shrugged in response then said, “Have you not prepared me? Have you ever ceased to teach me despite all that comes between us?”
Has even death itself posed a barrier to you and your cursed lessons?
The voice sighed with the sound that wind makes when whistling through the teeth of a bleached skull.
“Aye...so I have, Braze. So why do you continue to defy me in these petty ways? Why would you deny me?”
The man did not reply for a moment, weighing his words before saying, “I would never deny you...father.”
Then he turned away as the moon slipped from the clouds at last and the reflection of it in his eyes went from rich amber to golden yellow.
He tilted his head back and howled to the sky, wishing that his brethren would take up the call. Desiring more than anything that he did not stand alone when he was meant to lead, meant to be lord to his fellows.
The howl grew to a roar as he withheld himself no more, allowing at last the savagery held fiercely at bay, loosing the leash of his self-imposed mastery.
The howl rose far above the city and its sound was not that of a man, but that of a beast.
It’s sound was that of a wolf.
***
To be continued in
Her Billionaire, Her Wolf: Part 2, Lust and Lies
While the author is hard at work on Part 3 of Her Billionaire, Her Wolf, you may be interested in The Divine Fornication Series, where several characters found in Her Billionaire, Her Wolf first made their appearance:
The Divine Fornication Series (An Erotic Story of Angels, Vampires and Werewolves)
Her Billionaire, Her Wolf--His Every Desire (A Paranormal BDSM Erotic Romance) Page 7