by Dalia Wright
No one in their right mind chose to give something up like that.
“You're a good person, Evo.” I'm not sure about your sister. She's a little like Arina. They don't have such an innocent vision of the world. “I wish there were more like you.”
Evo shrugged, accepting the statement. “Don't mistake niceness for weakness, though.” Steel wrought his eyes, and he grasped Luelle's hand firmly. “It's been some people's greatest errors.”
She examined the muscles bulging under his shirt, the stocky, robust build of his body. Something about Evo hit all the right spots with Luelle. Kind, charming, but with a glimmer of something else beneath the surface, that suggested not all was calm seas and blue skies when it came to the younger werewolf's personality.
The charm that emanated from him also contributed to the attractive nature of his virile form. He certainly set her senses to overdrive, with the steady waft of pheromones from his skin, along with a nutty, fresh taste that made her mouth water. Heigan gave off an odor like rotting fish, something pungent and awful that made her gag when she slept next to him. Evo pleased every facet of sensory information at her disposal. Her heart twitched in a way she never thought it could, and her stomach had something wedged in it, though she didn't think the feeling was anything like butterfly wings flapping in there. More like leaping frogs.
Wouldn't it have been nice, if my parents had shuttled me off to someone like Evo, instead? It was, after all, an insane thought; Evo would have been nine at the time. Not mature or powerful enough to warrant a marriage with a proud old family.
Still, Luelle dreamed of impossibilities, because dreams gave her better feelings than reality did.
Even with her new lease on freedom, she knew she wasn't yet out of the woods. Until this conflict resolved itself once and for all, she would be under scrutiny of the clans.
Knowing that Elinor had posted extra guards to protect the Springmoon Hotel brought no comfort.
The Hotel housed the wounded, the bloodied, the dying – all of these the scents which attracted werewolves if not contained effectively.
Evo kissed the top of her hand, lips brushing her knuckles. “Maybe when we're not having shit thrown at us from all sides, we can sit down and discuss... certain things. If you catch my drift.” He followed the remark with a boyish grin. Luelle got the cadence of his meaning only too well.
She permitted herself a smile. His comforting presence made her want to close her eyes and fall and sleep in his arms.
It would be nice to forget everything, and not see the nameless people coming into the hotel, wounded under the excuse of her name and status.
Chapter Two
In the dead of night, Evo walked with his older sister, and they basked in the gentle light of a full moon. Both of them wielded their guns, imbued with vanadium-tainted bullets and silencers. He preferred a Springfield XDM Compact, enjoying the increased round usage and accuracy it offered. Sometimes, he and his sister went to the shooting range to practise their accuracy, and it always turned into a murder-fest of paper, with numerous bullet holes peppering their targets.
He talked with her, all the while daydreaming of Luelle Armanev. Those green irises cut into him like spring grass, heavy with the reminiscence of summer. Her voice was soft, measured, providing a sense of music into the air, and igniting a ball of desire tight in his belly. Already his lust-fuelled mind drifted to fantasies, sometimes sweet, sometimes obscene. It didn't matter that she belonged to another werewolf – she clearly hated his guts.
Evo planned to kill Heigan and claim her properly for himself. If, of course, she liked him enough. He suspected she might not react well to being pin-balled out of one marriage and straight into another.
I want her, he shivered, breathing in deep, fighting to control the besotted emotions infecting his brain. He wanted Luelle to look at him with love, to have her gasp beneath him as they shared body and soul together, perhaps with both of them consumed by passion. He wanted to grab her by the hair and yank her neck back, bite into it and screw her roughly.
His sister caught some of the tension in his face, for she clapped him on the back and smirked. “Well, well, little brother. You're not by any chance thinking about Luelle, are you?”
Evo grunted. “Perhaps. You smell different, by the way. I can't quite put my finger upon it.”
“Must be all the sex I'm getting,” Frey responded, as she reached for a cigarette from her pocket, struck the lighter to it and lit up. Her hands trembled, however, belying something else under her nonchalant demeanour. “For real, though, I keep having this weird taste in my mouth, like someone's shoved a wad of pennies in it. Kinda feel like chain smoking just to forget about it.”
“You don't think you're falling sick, are you?” Evo snapped out of thoughts of Luelle long enough to focus on his sister.
“Not sure. We'll see.” She took a deep drag of her cigarette, watching the smoke furl out of her lungs. “Speaking of seeing – there's been some sightings not so far off from Sapareva Banya of a bunch of werewolves, numbers unknown, and it sounds like they know there's a sanctuary in this province. Just not where.”
“Well then, we might need to move Luelle after all!” Evo exclaimed, concern spiking his system. There were only five werewolves in the hotel and four guards. Elinor certainly couldn't be expected to stay at the hotel when she had her people to organize for security and contacts in the upper mountains and the city regions. Evo didn't think, however, that their small hotel and the people at their command could cope with a small scale invasion – if any of them wielded guns. Especially Frey. For all of Frey's bravery and show of bravado, Evo knew that when it came to any sort of physical conflict, her fragile body would be no match for the savagery of a feral.
Images of his beloved sister, torn apart from limb to limb pervaded his consciousness. He resisted the urge to retch. He also knew persuading Frey to get the hell out would greet him with a middle finger and an expletive, and a curse to mind his own business.
Problem is, Evo thought wryly to himself, if she dies, I honestly don't know what I should do with my life. Everything that I am today is because of her. And that's the truth.
It uplifted and depressed him in the same moment. Truth be told, he expected to forge a path of his own with Frey, perhaps one day be in charge of numerous hotels around the world for werewolves to take refuge in. and attach the Radev name to that.
With the introduction of Luelle into his life, it changed everything. First seeing her as that battered husk shocked him to the soul. Werewolf injuries healed fast, and to have that many bruises and wounds suggested that she endured beatings for days and weeks at a time.
Those bastards.
His nose caught something in the air. It made him alert, even as his breath frosted in the cold night, puffing along with Frey's cigarette. “I smell a werewolf. Unfamiliar.”
Frey casually put her hand onto her Taurus, still smoking away. “Retreat or inspect?”
“Inspect, of course. Could be a scout,” Evo snarled. He briefly considered asking Frey to head back to the hotel. Eventually he settled on gesturing her to follow, and fingered his own small handgun. Proud, older werewolves considered guns scummy and weak, and whilst it was true that the metal itched uncomfortably in Evo's hands, it gave an edge over his kind when physical combat failed.
The scent emanated from the central park, where a grandstand for outdoor theater and other entertainments stood, and a statue oversaw the hissing and banging of the geyser beneath, mixing the unpleasant scent of rotten eggs into gusts of wind.
A spike of anticipation entered the unidentified werewolf's odor. Evo knew he didn't have much time, and instantly began transformation, his hair and bones twisting with ease under the light of a full moon. He ran as he did so, his gait widening, fingers stretching with claws. A snout growing out of his nose and mouth. The shift itself did something strange to his nervous system, dulling it as if a blanket had been thrown over his brain.
Every single pain cell deadened during transition, which was also why attacking someone before they had fully wolfed out was dumb. The lack of pain somehow increased the amount of power a body possessed.
His eyes blurred, before revealing a crystal-clear world before him, with every color sharp and distinct, with hundreds of hues in the darkness that his human-softened eyes could never pick up.
The air whipped around him as hairs developed, and his voice turned into a low, vicious growl. The werewolf in front of him sensed the change, and with a screech, also began their change.
Evo was fast, though, faster than anticipated, and by the time the werewolf started running, he lunged at them and brought them crashing to the ground.
“Identify yourself!” He snarled. “You are in the territory of the Spirovas!”
The werewolf barked something at him and clawed ferociously, paying no heed to the statement. Bloody scratches swathed over Evo's snout, and flashes of pain set in.
He heard Frey running behind him, her trainers slapping along the ground. The werewolf momentarily hesitated at her odd scent.
It was enough for Evo to pound his face in until his foe slammed into unconsciousness.
Panting, Frey pulled up beside him, her gun cocked and ready for any unexpected shenanigans. Her chest heaved. She looked nauseous and dizzy as she said, “I'm clearly getting unfit nowadays. Couldn't even do that little sprint.”
“It's okay. We got one,” Evo said, breathless and triumphant at the same time. “And I know a few people who might be interested in interrogating him for information.”
Unconscious, the werewolf melted back into his human form, unveiling a grizzled, gray haired man in tattered, unwashed clothing. His filthy hair matted and snarled around his ears, and a cloud of beard sprouted from his chin.
“He's one of the invaders, right?”
“Got to be,” Evo answered. “I think he spoke Russian. You know, let's check his belongings.”
Curious, the siblings rifled through the werewolf's pockets. The only thing they found of note was an old box with a coat of arms.
Frey picked it up and stared at the engraving on the golden surface, before popping it open. Inside lay a large collection of teeth. Frey's brow furrowed, confused at the selection offered. Evo, however, shivered.
“Looks like a nasty piece of work.”
Frey closed the box and replaced it. “Well. Time to start dragging him, I guess.”
Chapter Three
“You've got to be fucking kidding me,” Elinor said. Gathered in the small room where the captured werewolf was tied to a chair, Luelle, Evo, Frey, Elinor and Yanus observed him. For obvious reasons, Arina and Markus had been shoved aside in matters.
The werewolf in question leered at them, his yellow eyes glinting in smug triumph. It made Luelle want to punch him in the mouth, just to wipe off that expression. She badly wanted Arina to come in here and blast his brains out, because seeing him here in person convinced her of his evil. He was practically saturated in it.
She examined Evo in concern, noting some scratches to his dark cheeks, and a hardness in his icy blue eyes. Evo or Frey didn't have any history with this creature, so why did they look at him with such hatred?
“Why, it's like none of you have seen a werewolf before,” Ricten said, stretching his yellowed teeth into a rancid grin. “My dear niece. It has been too long since I've set eyes upon you.” He nodded toward Elinor, who let out a tiny hiss. Her dark blue eyes crinkled into slits.
“You realize we've put an order out to find you and kill you, right? Since that's the reason you've been skulking in the shadows for all these years like a pitiful dog.”
“Oh. Not in the shadows. I've been in Russia. Getting to know some of the locals there.”
“What do you want?” Yanus said. Ricten ignored him.
“I will only talk to my niece, as she is alpha. The rest of you are dirt beneath my shoes. Especially you, human filth,” he snarled at Frey, who flexed her muscles. Her right hand twitched to her Taurus.
“You will speak to all of us if demanded,” Elinor said.
Ricten merely smirked, running his tongue over his lips. “Well, if she stays, I don't mind, as long as I get a juicy bite out of her soft flesh. You know, I've never tasted a darkie before. I imagine they'll be quite cooked, don't you?”
“Ugh,” Frey said, taking deep, self-controlled breaths. “This fucking piece of slime.”
“Won't you stay with me a little while, pig? Come a little close, so I may taste you for myself...”
“Stop this,” Elinor barked, “or we'll kill you on the spot. No chance to plead.”
“Well, do it. Then you can't have the information you'll so desperately require from me. The filth leaves. Now,” Ricten snarled. His expression brooked no compromise, no chance to say otherwise. His eyes gleamed manically.
Frey, shaking in incandescent rage, left the room in silence, looking as if she was biting her tongue. Yanus followed after her, leaving just Elinor, Evo and Luelle.
“I smell another one. I recognize that scent. The little girl that got away so many years ago, right? Here?” He began giggling, rocking back and forth in the chair, the bindings holding him tight. “Oh, I've been wanting that one for a while! Human loving whelps, Markus and the Lubanov, I punished them so hard! I wonder if they remember?” The hysterical giggling slipped from his mouth, making all three werewolves glance at each other in alarm.
He's mad, Luelle thought. Cracked. The hint of madness scared even the most stolid of werewolves. No one wanted to associate with insanity.
The grime under Ricten's nails, the sunken, haggard face that merged with his tangled beard, and the mud-stained clothes all indicated a life lived without luxury.
“Will you let her in to see me? I've been wanting to meet her for a while...”
“No,” Luelle snapped, her teeth beginning to sharpen in her mouth. “She'll kill you. You stay away from her, you sick fuck.”
“That human? Hahaha...” He gave a breathy laugh. “Her brother tasted so sweet...”
With a demonic scream, Evo launched himself at Ricten, and slammed a fist into his face. The chair topped over, and Ricten continued screeching in laughter as Evo leapt upon him and flailed, beginning his transition before Elinor and Luelle pulled him off. He growled incomprehensibly, spitting curses but allowing the two women to stop him from potentially killing their informant.
Ricten, sprawled out on the floor, blood trickling from his chapped lips, cackled before coughing up what sounded like his lungs. He continued coughing for a moment, his face purpling, before drawing a deep, rattling sigh.
Elinor tapped her foot. “I'm not actually sure if we are going to get any information out of him. But there must be something. No one in their right mind would turn up at the doorstep of people who want them dead without some kind of backup or importance.”
Luelle felt a strange, wild urge to laugh, and the sound bubbled up in her throat, before she suppressed it. She rubbed Evo's back as well, helping the man to calm down. “Do you really think he's in his right mind at the moment?”
“No,” Elinor said. “But he was never stupid, either. Just a cruel, twisted individual.”
“How does someone like you become alpha?” Ricten wheezed, his voice rasping and harsh. “Have we become extinct in the male line or something? I recall there being a lot more options apart from a woman and a human-loving nephew.”
“Because, dear uncle,” Elinor said sweetly, eyes glinting, “the world around us changes. Unlike you.”
He laughed weakly again. “Well, you have spunk, I'll give you that. Are you sure you didn't slaughter your relatives for the top spot? Whore your way there? I'd commend you for that...”
Elinor helped right up her uncle again, the chair scraping on the wooden floor. “Unfortunately not, uncle.”
“Shame,” he murmured. Supercharged silence flooded the room. Luelle tried her best to massage out the tens
ion in Evo, which vibrated through her palms to her bones. She suspected part of his outrage came from the insults to his sister, the insinuation that Ricten enjoyed devouring the flesh of the helpless.
He would have eaten Arina, all those years ago with the corrupt Lubanovs and Spirovas, had Markus and Danniven not spirited her away. How must it have felt, to be her age, and to watch her baby brother and father die before her eyes? What damage did that do to someone's mind?
Death couldn't come soon enough for a creature like this. And Luelle had seen a fair few of defiled old souls in her lifetime. Luelle, however, had a psyche that fought torment with escape, with hope and daydreams, with constant scheming and interaction with the locals in the remote villages of Siberia. She learned the language, she made friends. Everything she did was to engineer the preservation of her sanity, and to escape.
At least some of the werewolves had been kind as well.
“Ricten. Give us one good reason why you think you're valuable enough to warrant us sparing your life. I am out of patience, and the others here hate you enough to make it... difficult to protect you for long.”
The old wolf let loose a smirk again. “Simple. I can tell you precisely where they're staying and what they plan to do.”
“Can you?” Elinor stared at him, deeply suspicious, along with Luelle and a resentful Evo. A thing such as Ricten, with his wily, sly mannerisms, didn't exactly invoke an aura of trust and belief. “And how might you have stumbled across this sensitive information?”