First to Fall

by Alexa Whitewolf

  Lucrezia

  I listen to Dom’s advice and lock my doors, then head to the window on an impulse. He’s still below my apartment, seemingly waiting for something. Once I turn my lamp on, Dom turns and walks away.

  My eyes follow him until he turns the corner, disappearing out of my sight. I lift a hand to my lips, blaming my need to kiss him on the wine I indulged in. And yet he hadn’t picked up on my silent plea... I shake my head, moving away from the window.

  This whole evening was nothing I expected, and my head feels like it’s swimming in feelings and doubts as I undress and get ready for bed. By the time I slide under the sheets, it’s Dom’s eyes I see under my closed eyelids, his touch I feel when sleep takes me.

  And above all, one thought spins round and round... What the hell did I just get myself into?

  ∞ 3 – Animale ∞

  “We can judge the heart of a man

  by his treatment of animals.”

  -Immanuel Kant-

  DOMINIC

  I’m still riding a high after the dinner with Luz and trying to get my head straight. It won’t do to get lost in the game, but at least I have one month to show her who she belongs with.

  And if her demeanor tonight is anything to go by, she may develop feelings for me. With each step, my mind drifts to what could be. It’s not that I don’t think Lucas and her would be great for each other. It’s that I know I’m better for her, period.

  Mine, my wolf growls, then steadies. It draws my attention to something else in the air. The hairs at the back of my neck prickle in warning, and a putrid scent hits me at once. I stop dead in my tracks, trying to identify where it’s coming from.

  My wolf rises under my skin, and I let him take over. Lucas once told me that watching me change compared to how his morphing occurs is different. And in a way, I guess he’s right.

  The vârcolacs come from the deep mountains of Transylvania, there where legends still exist and mists conjure up old wives’ tale galore. I’m not sure of my entire history, only that my genes are different from the werewolves I’ve seen here. I get the canine body, the canines and the strength. But my bite cannot turn someone into a werewolf unless my blood drips in their wounds.

  Neither can silver bullets kill me, only a stake through the heart will do. As far as that goes, it makes me pretty happy. Lucas, born in the Americas to Italian parents, is prone to both silver bullets and his bite alone can turn someone. He’s your regular werewolf, but he was also in this territory long before any of us, which accounts for his alpha status—among other things.

  Either way, as I shift, a soft light envelops my body and my limbs shorten. Sharp pain runs through me, but I’ve done it so many times I no longer scream in anguish. I grit my teeth like a good soldier, and before long I’m in full wolf shape.

  My fur, in this form, is dark like coal except for a white line running from my forehead all over my back. I’ve never known why, but it was the shape I had even as a youngling. My eyes change color to a pale gray, the irises surrounded by blue. Though I am bigger than the regular wolf, I’m still average enough to pass as an extremely large Alaskan Malamute. Unless people look closer... which, in these parts, they’ve learned not to.

  Now my wolf is loose, taking over my subconscious more than the human part of me. I let him lead, picking up a rotting scent and following it at a trot. I’m taking the backseat on this, at least until we get to the targeted destination, and I stop in shock.

  In a corner filled with garbage is a dog—or what’s left of it. It looks mature enough, some mix between a retriever and something else. Its mouth is open in shock, long tongue drooped to the side, lifeless. But the worse is lower: its stomach is gutted open, deep enough I can see his ribs.

  The human in me wants to throw up at the sight, but rage fills my wolf—and a need to tear into something. It overwhelms us both until we can only see red, and the urge to kill overcomes everything else.

  Dominic.

  A howl in the distance pulls my sight from the corpse, and tugs on my human mind. Lucas’ call is enough to throw me back in charge, and the primal part of me moves to the back, whining in displeasure.

  With one last look to the poor corpse, I follow the call to the borderline of our village. To protect the people of the town, Lucas asks to meet outside, keeping our wolf scents to the borders. It ensures no visiting packs try to make this their new permanent location.

  I get to the meeting spot and three other wolves sit in a circle. Two of them face a larger, rusty-colored one, and I recognize Lucas’ angry scent.

  Same as me, each wolf has their own characteristics. Tristan and Finn are smaller than Lucas, but only by a few inches. It would be the difference between a German Shepherd and an Alaskan Malamute. If, you know, those dogs were supercharged twice their regular size.

  Either way, I recognize Finn by his calm demeanor. He’s the wolf sitting on his hind, eyes trained on the leader. His obedient nature comes as much from his human career—he used to be a lawyer—as his status in the pack. His eyes shine bright, his fur a mixed gray like snowy mountains with ash, except for a crescent moon on his left shoulder. All black, it stands in stark contrast to the rest of his fur, a marking from his past.

  Tristan, on the other hand, is the paranoid of the group. Even sitting, his eyes dart around the place, expecting the worst. We always joke he has half a mind on the environment, a quarter on himself and the rest on everyone around him. It's also why he's so silent, not that he can be faulted after what he endured in war.

  In wolf form, he mirrors Finn but with darker spotting, more charcoal than white. His eyes are the same color as in human form, and he’s the only one of us who can change appearance at will—growing larger or smaller—not that he’s ever told us how he manages.

  Which brings me to Lucas. The alpha faces Finn and Tristan with bared teeth. His canines are huge, and his body is larger than mine. Though I’m broader in shoulders, Lucas is longer in body, giving the overall impression of towering over us. His rusty fur is mixed with hints of white and dark. A while ago, it had been pure red, but I guess being our alpha means he pulls some of our characteristics.

  Or so the story goes. His hackles are raised and the snarls coming from his mouth are anything but friendly, drawing my entire focus. He stops when I appear, jerking his head my way.

  What’s going on?

  The way we communicate, it’s hard to explain. It’s not telepathy per se, more of a thought being pushed out, connecting with everyone I choose to let in. Lucas’ eyes flash and he takes a step closer.

  Did you see the body?

  Yes, I admit. Why?

  An attack, Finn steps in. Whether consciously or not, he puts himself between me and Lucas. Whoever did it did not rip into the body, only cut it open. Someone is doing something to these animals.

  Animals? I blank at that. There’s more than one?

  Where’s your head been at? Lucas growls. Two more bodies showed up last weekend.

  I don’t recall ever being told. And I’m not about to take a hit for something I didn’t know.

  Tristan shakes his head at my tone, but Finn saves the day—again. I told Lucas when I found the first, and Tristan fell upon the second shortly after. Lucas wanted to investigate further before calling a meet.

  Lucas growls, now pacing from one end of the clearing to the other. I thought they might have been kills by someone passing through!

  But they’re not, those desgraçados. Whoever is doing this lives around here. That piece of good news comes from Tristan, whose tone is only outshined by the blank look in his eyes and his venom when he snaps into Portuguese and calls them bastards. He’s seen more than all of us put together, and it’s obvious this whole mess brings back bad memories.

  I think back to the body and shake my head. The cut was surgical, not gutted.

  Says the vet among us. You took what, two years of veterinarian schooling before dropping out?

  I snarl at Tri
stan, taking a step forward. What is up with you, man? The facts speak for themselves. It must be someone with medical background, and once we figure out whom, we can drag them to justice.

  Well, your job should be easy in that case, meu amigo. There’s only one legit doctor around here. I snort at Tristan’s suggestion, which isn’t taken well. But Arthur Morris, an eighty-year-old doctor almost going on blind but with a heart of gold, is unlikely to be our criminal.

  You have a better idea? Finn pushes, turning on Tristan.

  Sim, claro. How about another beast, like us?

  We each share looks, having not considered the option. What makes you say that?

  For one, why would a human do such an act?

  Finn shakes his head, already refuting the point. I worked long enough as a lawyer and can tell you, human minds can get sick. Extremely so.

  Possivelmente. But I’ve also been around the world longer than any of you, including to mountains where legends still live, and so do monsters.

  Tristan’s gaze never wavers from mine as he speaks. A shiver runs up my spine, and I tilt my head. Are you talking about my home country?

  Tristan gets off his hide, moving closer, his every muscle rippling. Not only yours. Greece. Eastern Europe. Your kind is not alone.

  I look at Finn, then Lucas, but both seem as epically lost as I am. In contrast to our stunned stances, Tristan is pacing from side to side, unable to sit still. His eyes dart around the meadow, ears flattening on his head in agitation.

  Care to untangle your riddles, mate? Even Finn seems to have lost his patience, but Tristan passes by me and seems ready to take off. Only Lucas’ order stops him.

  Tell us what you know, amico, and your reasoning.

  Tristan stops dead in his tracks, his entire body rigid as if he’s fighting with himself. I know full well what he’s feeling—the struggle between his desire to leave, and the alpha’s orders. But he’s a better wolf than me, and despite the slight tremor running through him, he turns around and faces us.

  I knew when I met Dom that he’s a vârcolac. It was one of the reasons, if you recall, that I gave him such a hard time. His words vaguely bring back memories of us fighting over everything and nothing, but I shake them off to focus. But from what he’s said, he has no idea of the two kinds that exist.

  Lucas looks to me for confirmation, but I only shrug and sit down. This looks like it'll take a while.

  Finn nudges me with his muzzle, but I don’t budge. Try as I might, my thoughts are a jumbled emotion. Somehow Tristan knows more about my kind than me. Only one question remains: how?

  As if guessing my mind, Tristan glances my way. I traveled a lot, with the army. They took us to remote locations, hot spots... He shakes his head, his gaze growing haunted. Guilt ripples through me for making him relieve an obviously bad memory, but I need to know.

  After another shuddering breath, Tristan bends his head and continues. In Greece, there’s this little village no one’s heard of. You can’t even find it on the map. We were passing through, but needed a spot to sleep. Short of rooming with the locals, my buddies and I slept under the starry skies. At night...

  His pause is not theatrical, but to ground himself. We can all feel the memories tugging at his mind, his heart rate increasing. I expect Lucas to move, but when he doesn’t, I do in his stead. I place my paw over Tristan’s front one, meeting his gaze. You’re in Rockland Creek, buddy. You’re safe here. What happened that night?

  The shadows in his eyes, the obvious pain and fear rake through me and I stumble back, unable to hold his gaze. Tristan’s words reach me through a fog, like it’s not really me they’re addressing.

  They call them vrykolakas over there, your kind. And though you’re normal—I don’t know how—they were... monstros, Dom. Como vampiros.

  My shocked gaze lifts to Lucas, but despite Tristan having announced the monsters were like vampires, there’s no surprise in his expression.

  They gutted open the entire village overnight, a pack of them. Tristan stops again, inhaling to rein his emotions in. We didn’t hear a thing. It was the smell that woke me up—alone from my regiment. I caught the last few and tried shooting at them, but they wouldn’t die. One of them almost had me when this old man drove a stake through his heart. It was... He saved my life, and died in my arms shortly after from his own wounds.

  Why not tell us? Finn pushes forward, agitated. Shouldn’t we have known we have a vârcolac—vrykolakas—whatever you want to call it, in our midst?

  My wolf growls, hurt and angry. I’ve always been honest with you. This story, this... I never knew my kind could be like that. Nor do I know why I’m different. My eyes shift to Lucas, pleading with him to believe me. I’ve never felt the need to kill such, you have my word.

  Lucas stares at me hard for a few moments, but it’s Tristan who breaks the silence. That’s because you have a soul, and they didn’t. They were undead, Dom. He must have read the questions in my eyes, because he adds, I couldn’t feel their heartbeat, even as I tried to kill them. When I returned back home, I did a lot of research, and that’s how I separated the two in my head—the vârcolacs, like you, and the vrykolakas, the undead.

  Great. So if Dom dies, he becomes one of them? Finn’s question takes me by surprise, but it also angers me. Before I can do anything, he pounces at me and we roll in the grass.

  I never would have expected the obedient one of the bunch to throw the first punch, and I guess that’s my mistake. Finn seems perfectly ready to kick my ass, not that I’m about to let him. Bunching my legs under, I throw him off me, but not quick enough to avoid a scratch to the face. Finn shakes himself off a few feet over, but doesn’t seem ready to back down.

  Really, mate?

  Just making sure your anger doesn’t trigger some kind of hunger we didn’t know about. His easy tone has me hold back from escalating the fight—barely.

  How about we focus on the real issue here, considering I have no intent to die? I head back to stand by Lucas. With Tristan’s information, we have a new suspect to consider. But if these killings are done by other vrykolakas, make no mistake. I stand with you.

  You better, Finn snarls.

  Basta! Lucas stops our bickering when he shouts, standing to his full height, his voice firm and authoritative. A current runs through us, and our entire focus turns to the alpha, unwavering.

  We will find whoever is behind this and bring them to justice. Lucas’ gaze falls on each of us in turn. Pack justice.

  Our howls echo his, and the wolves in us are ready to pounce.

  Lucrezia

  I’ve been minding my business today. The guys are quiet, focused on three jobs they’re working on. Even Dom only graces me with a smile before heading in, ducking his head and keeping his distance.

  Close to lunch hour, he comes and towers over my desk. I peek up with a smile, but it falls off when I notice the scratch on the side of his face.

  “What happened?”

  I move around the office and raise my hand to his cheek, trying to inspect closer. He flinches when I touch it, but it’s not too deep and looks like it’s healing already.

  I’m about to ask again what happened, but the minute I meet his gaze, I’m rooted to the ground. His blue eyes darken, and there’s a hum between us akin to energy I can touch. It’s like what happened the night before, when I almost kissed him.

  The thought of his lips draws my gaze to his mouth, and mine part in response. This is the second time in less than a day that my reaction to him puzzles me, and it’s enough to melt the brain cells in my head.

  “Darling,” Dominic drawls, “you may want to watch your acting skills. A man could fall for this.”

  I jerk back at his tone, hoarse and filled with... hunger. Something clenches in my stomach, and heat spreads through me as I blush.

  Before I can move farther, Dom’s eyes flicker over my shoulder and he steps nearer, his mouth to my ear.

  “Lucas is coming.” I tense a
t his closeness, unused to having a male—especially of his bulk—in my personal bubble.

  Sensing my rigidity, he wraps an arm around my lower back and plays with my spine, running his hand up and down. “You’re all right, beautiful. You’re safe with me.”

  Then his head is dropping, and I fear he might kiss me. Something flashes in his eyes and at the last minute his lips move to the side of my mouth, kissing the corner. Rather than go for the full prize, he trails down my jawline, and right under my earlobe.

  I gasp aloud at the sensation, feeling like I’ve been electrocuted. His sweet words broke my walls, but his touch—dear God, his touch!—makes my knees buckle.

  As though sensing it, Dom’s arm around my waist tightens. His nose nuzzles my skin, causing further shivers, and I tremble against him.

  Then he bites it—a nibble only—but it’s enough to make me jump, squeaking, moving further into him. Dom chuckles against my neck, and it rocks his strong chest, vibrating every muscle that now surrounds me.

  Whether my lust-fogged brain wants to admit it or not, Dom is good at what he does. Too good. Which is why I give in, unable to resist the sheer temptation of his heat—both literal and figurative.

  I melt in his embrace, which somehow makes me even more aware of the muscle hiding under the simple black shirt. There’s no rhyme or reason to how I’m acting, but a primal part of me responds to whatever vibes he’s sending out.

  There’s a safety in in arms, a sense of belonging. It’s not the first I’ve felt it near Dom, after all he’s been my best friend—my only close friend—for a year. But this is a new development that confuses me.

  My enjoyment of his unexpected attention lasts until Lucas’ growl ruins the moment.

  “Che cazzo è...What the fuck is going on here?”

  Disappointment crashes over when I realize Dom was only trying to get Lucas riled up. That it's the only reason behind his actions somehow leaves me....bereft.

  I try to move, but he won’t have it. Dom finishes nuzzling my neck, and lets me go at his pace, so I can face Lucas, but still be under his shoulder.