Slade, Book 1 in Team Greywolf Series

by Eva Gordon

  “We do not kill our kind,” said Slade.

  Wolfstrom snorted, “Ah, but we do. We have.” He glared at Slade. “Did not the packs of Europe kill my grandparent’s pack?”

  Slade stood, and his fangs protruded. “Your Nazi werewolves were tainted with the blood of Griswold of Bedburg and broke our most sacred oath by aligning with evil humans.”

  “Griswold had the right idea about killing inferior humans, but unfortunately, he failed to clean up his cannibalism. No table manners,” Wolfstrom said cryptically.

  Cricket swallowed. The packs that aligned with the Nazi’s were direct descendants of the evil 16th century serial killer werewolf Griswold. The malevolent lycan, who slaughtered hundreds of humans for food, had boasted of having twenty offspring. His descendants exhibited Griswold’s cannibalistic behavior and were finally culled by the 18th century. Unfortunately, a few escaped and intermingled with packs. Recent DNA testing could identify them, but only if they did something worthy of suspicion, since with proper upbringing many believed they would grow to be well-adjusted lycans.

  Slade snorted. “I suppose working with the Third Reich benefited Griswold’s get.”

  “My grandfather, Dr. Gunter Wolfstrom made a mistake in judgment by working for humans as if they were our masters. We are the superior species.”

  “Yet, you seem to work with humans at the moment.” Slade smirked.

  “This time they understand we are the masters.”

  “So if you have packs, why are you kidnapping foreign werewolves?” Slade asked.

  Wolfstrom walked over to his private well-stocked bar. “Drink?”

  “No, thank you, but perhaps my companion is thirsty.”

  Wolfstrom narrowed his eyes at Cricket as if it galled him to acknowledge her existence. “You, I find most intriguing. A runt who survived the change.”

  “That’s me all right, your majesty.” She kept her eyes downcast.

  Wolfstrom opened a cabinet and handed her a bottle of water. “I imagine you are more human than wolf.”

  “That’s one theory, sir.”

  “As you know, we don’t bring in omegas, but I must say, I’m grateful Henrik chose not to kill you. If you can survive the change, what other possibilities about your biology will we learn?”

  Slade growled. “Let her go, and I’ll do whatever you want.”

  Wolfstrom chuckled. “Release a member of the LIA? You must think me mad.”

  “Use the amnesia drug Henrik used on me. Let her forget the last week.”

  Cricket gaped at Slade. Was he really willing to sacrifice himself to save her? Not to mention volunteering her to lose a very important memory vital to the LIA. We need to talk, hero.

  Wolfstrom turned to Slade. “So you don’t know?”

  “Know what?”

  “Did you think we eliminated the omegas because of their lower status?”

  Slade narrowed his eyes. “I assumed omegas were murdered since they didn’t fit in with your master race of lycans.”

  Wolfstrom glared at him. “We executed omegas because our amnesia drug does not work on them or humans.” He smiled at Cricket. “Nor does it work on her. Too human.” Then he returned his attention to Slade. “However, the drug didn’t work on you, at least not long term. Too wolf.”

  Slade cocked his head. “Huh?”

  “That’s right, Prince Slade. If a werewolf is genetically more human, as in the case of omegas and Cricket, or too wolf as in the case of you and your long gone Yukon pack, our synthesized drug doesn’t hold.” He poured himself a brandy. “Don’t worry. Henrik is working on a better drug for alphas with too much wolf.”

  “And what is your specialty, Dr. Wolfstrom?” asked Slade.

  “My experiments are far more complex.”

  Cricked bristled. His grandpa, Herr Gunter Wolfstrom, had experimented on humans and werewolves, hoping to create the perfect biological weapon. He had worked on ticks. Rumors were he created Lyme disease released in the U.S. from Plum Island. If they didn’t escape, and soon, she imagined she’d end up as his personal guinea pig. Whatever Wolfstrom’s agenda, she must find out and inform the LIA. But how to escape the fortress? Before they updated Slade’s brain.

  Wolfstrom winked at her. “What a stroke of luck you have a degree in biology.”

  “I helped in our lab, more of a lab tech than a scientist,” she lied. How much did he know about their state of the art DNA lab?

  “My dear, you are welcome to join us, or, if you prefer, volunteer as one of our test subjects.”

  Slade lost it. He growled and began to shift. “You touch her, and I’ll gut you!”

  The king’s guards moved in front of Wolfstrom. Each powerful alpha snarled at him. Slade wouldn’t have a chance against three.

  Cricket grabbed Slade’s arm. “Hold on, his offer to help in the lab sounds intriguing.”

  Slade’s muscles felt so tense, he might just explode into full wolf rage.

  “Tsk, tsk, Prince Slade, you act as if the runt is your mate.”

  Slade glanced at her and then back at Wolfstrom. “She’s my partner.”

  Wolfstrom smiled at her. “Either way, you will never leave our territory.”

  That’s what you think. “Well, when you put it that way, perhaps I can be useful.”

  “What about the ones you kidnapped?” asked Slade.

  “Our new pack members? Tonight you’ll meet them in the dinner hall.” He commanded his guards. “Take Prince Slade and Cricket to their separate quarters.”

  The guards bowed. “Yes, master.”

  Slade entered the grand dining hall filled with more than one hundred werewolves. He sighed in relief on seeing Cricket escorted to sit with the omegas. Collarless. Good.

  She glanced at him, but then quickly looked down.

  Slade wanted to hold her tight in his arms. Not now. He reined in his desire. Outnumbered, they wouldn’t have a chance to escape. Even if they could the cliff surrounding the castle was a sheer drop.

  She wore white coveralls provided by their sinister host. He sat at the table with the alphas who, like him, wore red coveralls. They sniffed as he sat and glared at him. He glowered and didn’t bother sniffing them back in greeting. Not with brainwashed zombies or worse, traitors.

  The betas wore blue, and the omegas wore green. Color coded. The guards, some alphas and others betas wore the black uniform. Cricket stood out in all white, vulnerable as a sacrificial vestal virgin.

  The aroma of beef and other exotic meats filled the air, but he had lost his appetite. What the hell had he been good for? He failed to protect his pack and now broke his promise to Rylee to protect Cricket.

  A familiar scent occupied his nose. Randi? The beta chatted with another lycan. Just shooting the breeze. Did he know his fiancée had been murdered by Wolfstrom’s men? Obviously not. The amnesia drug must have worked. Then he recognized the other missing betas, Erik and Allen. They, too, seemed at ease. Was that his fate? Forget his pack. Forget Team Greywolf? Forget Cricket? His soul ached. Abella.

  “Welcome to Wolf’s Lair,” said an alpha with a German accent.

  Slade turned. “Prince Raulf.”

  He sniffed twice. “Prince Slade, it is an honor to meet another member of the royal Pentad line.” He referred to the original five ancestral wolves bitten by Wolf Wizard Stallo.

  Slade bowed. “Indeed.” He furrowed his brow. “Do you remember who you are?”

  He sneered. “Of course. Unlike the others, I willingly joined the pack.”

  Had Raulf gone over the edge because of his mate’s death? Had he suffered morphopsychosis and Henrik convinced him to join? “I’m sorry you lost your mate.”

  Raulf chuckled. “You sound like my soft brother, King Alrik.”

  Slade’s hackles rose. How could he make light of such sorrow? “I’m talking about your mate.”

  He smirked. “I killed her myself. Of course, I made it look like an accident.”

  “What?”
He must be mad.

  “The bitch loved a human, but Alrik insisted we mate.”

  “Even if you didn’t love her, you broke the most sacred of oaths.”

  “I loved her, but her heart belonged to the inferior ape. Besides, she did not share my view on lycan superiority and refused to join me.” He smiled. “I had considered administrating the amnesia drug. Watching her fuck the ape, changed my mind.”

  “So, she knew you were aligned with an oath breaker.”

  “Like my brother, she thought we could continue to live with humans. Humans are like locusts bent on destroying the planet.”

  “You had your shrink murdered?”

  “And yours as well. Henrik is a master swordsman. On my orders.”

  Slade glared at him. “They will be avenged.” No wonder, Dr. Warner let Henrik in, thinking he was his former orderly. No alpha would fear a so-called omega.

  An attractive blonde alpha woman grinned at Slade, her long canines white as new fallen snow and sharp as a katana sword. “I’m Agrippa.”

  Slade bowed. “Madam.”

  Raulf chuckled. “I think the two of you would make a perfect match.”

  Agrippa sat next to him. Her ass brushed against his side. “Indeed, we would.”

  Buxom with a shapely figure, she nonetheless smelled corrupt. No chemistry. Where Cricket smelled of wild honey and rose petals, Agrippa stank of weeds imbued with pesticides. Slade narrowed his eyes. I know her. He’d seen her photo. One of the missing mental patients. Dr. Warner’s alpha patient who suffered from morphopsychosis and deemed too dangerous to return to her pack. Heavily medicated. “You are Sandra Lupus?”

  She gave him a questioning look. “No, no, my handsome male, my name is Agrippa.”

  Her memory was gone, but what about her psychiatric issues? “Agrippa what?”

  “Just Agrippa.”

  “Here at Wolf’s Lair we don’t have surnames,” said Raulf.

  An omega brought them a pitcher of beer and poured each a mug. Slade drank, and then scowled at Raulf. “So bring brain erased werewolves to isolated Patagonia.” He snorted. “What the fuck for?”

  “We bring forth the age of Ragnarok.”

  The other alphas at the table grunted and raised their beer jugs. “Ragnarok!”

  Slade’s hackles rose. No fucking way! Centuries ago, a pack of rogue oath breakers pledged to give rise to Ragnarok, a re-adaptation of the Norse apocalypse. They intended to rid the world of mankind and take over the planet. A British werewolf, Harold Wolfskin, poisoned the waters in England with cholera in hopes of destroying a huge portion of the human population. His mission to eventually spread disease. Depleted, humans would declare lycans as their lords. European packs killed the oath breaker and most of his pack, stopping him from releasing the next wave of disease, thousands of plague-ridden rats into several cities. Later, his kin joined The Third Reich, but with their own goals to wipe out all humans.

  Slade narrowed his eyes at Raulf. “A splinter group of the Nazi Werewolf soldiers attempted Ragnarok, but failed.”

  “You are correct. Our predecessors failed, but no longer.”

  Slade tightened his jaw. What plague did they think they could unleash on humans? Times were different. Today’s high technology, instant global communication, and organized tasks forces, not to mention lycans occasionally aiding humans, how did they think they could wipe out humanity? “You’re all fucking oath breakers. Why bring me in?”

  “You, Prince Slade, can be a great asset to us.”

  “How is that?”

  “You are of the royal line. You can be one of our elite leaders.”

  The other alphas at the table stopped eating and stared at Slade. By the scent of their anal glands, not in admiration, but scorn. Perhaps they felt unfairly passed up to accommodate royal blood. Such sediments were common amongst normal werewolves back home. Even Rylee had not been a fan of the royal lines. Slade smirked at the male and female lycans. “What about them?”

  “They will serve and perhaps someday marry one of our offspring.”

  I’m on a mission. Go along with them, fool. Escape and bring down the force of Team Greywolf on their fucking plan. Now to be convincing after his initial disgust. He rubbed his brow. Time to calm his emotions. “My pack was massacred, and I have no mate. I will consider your offer.”

  Raulf narrowed his eyes. “You joined Rylee’s Lycan Intelligence pack and must be thinking of escape.” He looked toward Cricket. “Along with the runt.”

  Slade fought to keep his fangs in at Raulf’s clear threat toward Abella. “If Henrik knows the drug doesn’t work on me, how do you plan to convince me?”

  “Don’t worry, Henrik is a brilliant chemist, and he’s fine tuning the drug.”

  “So I gathered. He fooled us all with his omega scent.”

  “Indeed.”

  Slade glanced at the beta’s table. “Randi seems to fit well.”

  “He and the others never once felt like an amnesia patient.”

  “Mind control or brain washing?”

  “New, better memories.”

  “False memories.” Brain washing, all right.

  “Imagine waking up knowing you grew up with a loyal pack and you are a member of the superior species.”

  Slade shrugged and bit into his steak. As much as he suffered from the loss of his pack, he hated the idea of never remembering them. Abella. He’d never forget her. “What about Cricket?”

  “As a reward for capturing you, Jack, the human can keep her.”

  Slade stiffened. Mine. He laughed with an edge. “Why? Didn’t you pay him enough to get an expensive prostitute?”

  “We don’t keep human females, and the runt is human enough for him. I understand why he wants the attractive she-wolf for himself.” He smiled. “Prince Slade, are you not happy she gets to live?”

  “I prefer she return to our territory.”

  “Not possible.”

  He snorted. His vision clouded and fur prickled along his back. The wolf itched to escape and rip Jack’s heart out, but not until he ripped off his balls. He growled. “No one will touch her.”

  “Don’t worry. He may not get to keep her. Wolfstrom has taken a special interest in a runt who survived the change.”

  Fucking hell. Either his Abella would end up as some human’s plaything or Wolfstrom’s guinea pig.

  Agrippa ran a long black painted fingernail along his taut arm, stroking it as if it were his cock. “Oh, sweet Prince, perhaps I can alleviate your frustration.”

  Slade flinched from her touch. “Not necessary.”

  She pouted and handed him a covered silver platter. “Here, try our mouthwatering delicacy. It’s Wolfstrom’s favorite.”

  Raulf laughed. “Yes, please do.”

  Slade uncovered the platter, took a whiff and cringed. “Are you mad?”

  Raulf grabbed a piece of the meat and slowly chewed it. “Trust me, we eat only grass fed humans.” He wiped his lips. “I wonder if a runt would taste even better?”

  Slade stood and smacked the platter with the human meat off the table. The crash silenced the room.

  Famished, Cricket quickly ate her steak, but almost choked as the clatter interrupted the meal and Slade’s fierce growl echoed. He stood, in hybrid wolf form, ready to pounce on Prince Raulf. The din of conversations stopped. Not good.

  She stood, but a guard snarled. “Sit!”

  Fine. Just trying to save Slade and prevent a blood bath.

  Slade glanced at her. She shook her head and hoped he read her thoughts. Go wolf now and our mission is over.

  He slowly sat back down, while an omega dashed out of the kitchen and began cleaning the mess. Whatever had been on the platter must have really disgusted him. A chill coursed through her as she stared at a similar platter on her table. Cricket turned to an omega female next to her. “Is that what I think it is?”

  The omega smiled and offered the plate. “Never tried human?”

 
Great! They may be werewolves, but human enough to be considered cannibals. Bile threatened to escape her throat. Cricket lifted her hands and shuddered. “No way.”

  The others laughed and then returned to eating and drinking.

  “Someday you might get used to it,” said the omega.

  They’d broken innumerable oaths, but cannibalism ranked up there as the worse. Over the years, she’d mingled with humans and grown fond of them. Mia, her new best friend and Enforcer Dominic’s mate was human. “Why should I? It’s not like we don’t have plenty of meats to choose from.”

  Another older male omega shook his head. “True. We raise cattle and other livestock. We eat human to assert our superiority.”

  Cricket lost her appetite and, for once in her wolfish life, considered becoming a vegan.

  The doors opened. Henrik, followed by three guards and his human pup, Jack, entered. “Prince Slade, how are you enjoying your stay?”

  Slade narrowed his eyes at Jack. “Touch Cricket and you die.”

  Everyone turned to stare at her. Geez, thanks for making me a target.

  Henrik grinned. “What will you do? Attack us all at once?” He turned to Jack. “Return to your quarters.”

  He smiled as if he’d won something. “Yes, master.”

  Did he not know they ate his kind? Maybe Wolfstrom’s humans didn’t give a shit, knowing they’d be spared from the dinner menu. Or was cannibalism an additional initiation requirement? Donner party meets man-eating werewolves.

  Henrik scowled at the pack. “Go back to your meal!”

  Dinner and conversations resumed.

  He grinned at Slade, leaned in, and whispered something in Slade’s ear. So close, she worried Henrik might bite off his ear to even the score.

  Slade lowered his head.

  What could he say to cause Slade to act like a reprimanded pup? Me? He probably threatened to kill her on the spot. No other way to control her alpha protector.

  The omegas at her table talked amongst themselves, but didn’t include her. Oh, brother. You are a bunch of brainwashed mean-bitches anyway. Not that she wanted to make small talk with some weird creepy cannibalistic pack members, but more intel would have been nice. She glanced at Slade.