by Dalia Wright
“Don’t die,” Markus whispered. “I know a few people who would be sad if you did.”
When Markus finally stepped away, Frederick wasted no time in transforming, his nose and mouth elongating into a snout, his arms spread for a grab on Danny, who danced backwards, fur growing from his face as well.
With a roaring, spitting rumble from Frederick, the two ferals clashed.
Chapter Six
Arina drank ordinary coffee, brewed from a kettle and topped with semi-skimmed milk, considering her actions from last night. Her core ached in a good way, and the memories of their romp came to her fresh, making her shiver, and adjust her legs into a more comfortable position.
She enjoyed, perhaps too much, giving into the darkness, letting Markus take her, love and worship her and send her mind into a better state, a better existence than the world she knew.
If she stayed with Markus, made this a thing, then the world of the werewolves would come back to her, crashing and in force.
A world where her children had the chance to become werewolves, to endure the savage blood and urges their kind had.
A strange parallel existed as well, knowing the medieval punishments werewolves opted amongst themselves, and of the strict laws human society gave toward crime – two worlds she would be fully immersed in.
Awkward.
She certainly couldn’t imagine imparting the information to any of her human friends – not unless they witnessed the transformation first-hand. Even then, werewolves got nervous if too many people knew, as they preferred all knowledge bearers to exist within their inner circles.
They wouldn’t like someone similar to Arina, who had slipped through the net, though she had been reeled in again by Markus.
She sipped at her coffee, allowing the caffeine to ignite her neurons, to kick-start her brain into gear. Markus’s laptop lay on the table next to the sofa, along with a tawdry collection of magazines and newspapers, some of them utilizing the Cyrillic alphabet.
She sent one of her sporadic texts to her Godfather’s family, and decided to see if she could open Markus’s laptop to watch a programme on Netflix whilst she was still waking up. Her Sig Sauer lay by the side of the sofa, never far from reach.
Markus had saved tabs on Google Chrome, including a tab for emails displaying five new messages, which showed up when she opened them, starting to create a new tab when she recognized the name on one of the emails: Elinor Spirova.
The older sister of Markus. Arina bit her lip. She had no right to this. No right at all, but that didn’t stop her from clicking open the email, and reading the message, scrawled up in Bulgarian Cyrillic.
Hey, brother – it was good to hear from you again. Things have been quiet over here. The loudest troublemakers have stilled themselves into silence for now, and I’m left to tend to the garden, mind the honey, and stop the triplets from trying to eat all the honey bees. I’m still irritated with Branimir for landing me with them in the first place. I was prepared for one child – not three squalling demonspawns who will never let their mother know a moment’s rest.
Arina smirked at the idea of Markus’s older sister handling three children. Good for her.
I’ve got some news for you, little brother. You remember our uncle who disappeared off the map some time back? The same uncle who we both have a certain… interest in? He’s turned up again. He wanted safe passage through my territory, and he knows that you have left. I tried to keep it discreet, asking if he wanted to come and meet with us, and that you had emigrated to America, so he didn’t need to feel threatened by you.
He declined, but he’s certainly there near the Seven Lakes, though we are yet to establish why he needs safe passage, or where he has been all this time.
I will wait for you, but if you give me the word, I will send the whole might of the Spirova clan upon his scummy, rot-infested behind. You know what they say. Mad dogs must be put down. I await your judgement, alpha.
Love, Elinor Spirova.
Arina closed the email, breathing hard and fast. Fear and hatred coarsed through her, making her limbs tremble. They’d been searching for Ricten Spirova. Markus and Elinor had hunted for Ricten – that could be the only possible person Elinor meant in her message.
Her instant thought was to email back as Markus, and tell Elinor she could hunt and kill Ricten. However, Elinor would probably want to talk to Markus in person.
The second, she could admit she read the email. In fact, she’d need to – having one new email opened and four unopened ones would look a little suspicious.
Breathing heavily, Arina considered how plausible it would be to get a week or two off work, or even unpaid leave for a month – pack off to Bulgaria, and hunt for Ricten in the Seven Lakes.
Her heart thumped painfully at the idea that vengeance lay within a stone’s throw. Satisfaction filled her as well at the evidence Markus had been digging for Ricten himself, with the intention to kill.
All that remained now, was what choice should she make? Hunt, or stay? She glanced at her Sig Sauer, lying innocently in its holster.
Did she have the skill necessary to take down a full grown, rabid, flesh eating werewolf?
More importantly – would Markus allow her into the action, or insist she stayed out, once he knew she was aware?
She closed down the laptop, having lost the desire to watch Netflix. Instead, she messaged Markus, and waited for him to answer.
Let’s see what he has to say.
There was a long hesitation, before he answered.
Markus: I should have expected you to find out. Don’t go doing that thing where you run off without thinking of the consequences. Wait for me to come back. I promise I will listen to what you have to say, and I will be honest about the danger. If you think you are ready, I will not deny you vengeance.
Arina grinned. That was good enough for her. She chewed her lip, once again reading the email, feeling the boil of hatred at Ricten’s name.
Whatever doubts she harbored, she wanted to stay with Markus. Everything just seemed to fit, being with him. Answers to questions she hadn’t been fully aware of clicked into place. Her past no longer needed to be something to flee from, something to fear. She could face it with Markus, the boy she had not forgotten, or ever stopped loving, though she allowed herself to bury it out of mind, for a while. Too long a while.
Together, they would be strong.
The End
The Preacher’s Daughter’s Secret
By: Elaine Young
CHAPTER ONE:
Jake Owenson was crossing across Central Park on his way home when he saw Rosalie Mitchell standing in the corner of Fifth and 86th happily munching away on a hotdog. He did a double take and skidded to a stop.
Was it? He asked himself. Could it be? He couldn’t believe his eyes and had to blink twice to make sure he wasn’t imagining things; after all, it had been more than six years since he had last laid eyes on the then twelve-year-old girl. He remembered a round, chubby face that always seemed to be smiling, mischief-filled blue eyes, and two thick golden, blond braids hanging over her shoulders. And before him stood a young woman on the cusp of womanhood. She was beautiful with her blond hair flowing in loose waves down her back, with a long, flowery dress that accentuated her shapely and graceful figure. He couldn’t be sure it was her, but he took a stab at it anyways.
“Rosalie?”
The slender girl turned at the sound of her name and searched the faces nearby to locate the voice. Her eyes skimmed over him – they were still the blue he remembered, but she obviously hadn’t recognized him. He took a few steps in her direction and called out to her again.
“Rosalie, it’s me, Jake.”
Her eyes snapped back towards him and recognition dawned on her face. She did a little two-step of excitement and clasped her hands together in delight.
“Jake! Jake Owenson! How long has it been!”
“Long enough that you didn’t recognize me!” he teas
ed.
“How could I when you’ve grown up so much! You are positively handsome now,” she teased him right back, thinking of the lanky, awkward boy of six years ago. There was definitely nothing awkward about him now. The boyish features had filled out into a handsome face and the lanky frame looked solid and athletic. His floppy brown hair was groomed into a close cut which accentuated the straight nose and the strong jaw. Even his walk was different, she noted – it was cool and confidant.
He blushed a little at the compliment, thinking how very grown up she had become. The girl he remembered had been rebellious and outspoken; some things had obviously remained unchanged.
“What are you doing in the city?”
“Enjoying some freedom! I’m here for Rumspringa,” she explained.
“Oh,” Jake said, a dark cloud briefly shadowed on his face as he recalled his Rumspringa and his subsequent banishment from the community when he had decided he didn’t want to commit to the Amish faith.
“Did you come with a lot of people?”
“Nope, just on my own. But father doesn’t know that. He thinks Janice Greely, Isabelle Hendrix and I came together. Which we did, but we’re all doing our thing, and I haven’t seen them since getting here.”
“Still being rebellious, huh.”
“You know me,” she said lightly.
“So are you enjoying your trip so far?”
“I’m loving the trip! I think I might be falling in love with New York,” she gushed.
“That’s how I felt when I came here. And I never looked back.”
“Well I can see how that would happen.” She looked at her watch and looked at him. “Anyways, I won’t keep you much longer, I’m sure you were headed somewhere….”
Jake was about to say that yes, he was on his way to a meeting, when he experienced an odd stirring within him. Gazing straight into her clear blue, sparkling eyes, he realized the emotion he was experiencing was attraction. And not just a passing attraction or appreciation for a good-looking woman, but a very physical longing to stay in her company, a reluctance to not let her go just yet. He realized he felt intrigued by her and wanted to spend more time with her. In fact, he wanted to ask her out, which wouldn’t be smart at all because she wasn’t a girl to trifled with, and he couldn’t offer her anything more because he was no longer a part of her world. Telling himself he must be logical, he prepared himself to say goodbye and to tell her it had been lovely seeing her, but he found himself asking her if she had any plans for the evening instead. As she happily told him her evening was wide open, he told himself it was just one dinner – how much harm could it really do?
CHAPTER TWO:
He was on top of her. Kissing every inch of her body. Well familiar with the touch of his skillful hands, Rosalie closed her eyes, anticipating his next move, aching to be consumed by his love. But just as things started to heat up her stomach rolled over and a wave of nausea startled Rosalie out of her sleep and broke through her dream. Her eyes snapped open and she realized with a whoosh of intense disappointment that it had all been nothing but a dream. She sat up straight and waited for the nausea to subside, but it didn’t and had her running for the bathroom. Once she was done she washed her face with cold water and buried her face in the towel waiting for the queasy feeling in her stomach to subside.
This was the fifth night in a row she was waking up nauseous and sick. She could only conclude that she was so lovesick it was having a physical effect on her. Memories of the time she had spent with Jake in New York were crowding into her dreams now; she thought of him all day and all night…couldn’t help it…would she ever be free of him? It wasn’t very likely given everything that had transpired between them from the moment they had run into each other a few months ago. As she stepped out in to the hallway, the door across from her bedroom opened and Amanda’s concerned face peeked out.
“Rosalie?” Her sister’s voice was groggy from sleep. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, everything’s fine,” Rosalie assured her, “Go back to sleep.”
Amanda stifled a yawn and nodded.
“Okay – if you’re sure.”
Rosalie made her way back into bed and muffled her groans of frustration into her pillow. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? From the moment she had run into him by Central Park, her entire trip had quickly become centered around him. After that first dinner together they had become virtually inseparable. Things between them had moved at a shockingly fast pace. Part of it was timing constraints, since both Jake and Rosalie knew they wouldn’t have much time together, they didn’t bother wasting any by playing games. But part of it was they had clicked instantly. And the physical attraction was undeniable.
She remembered their first kiss… It had happened after two weeks of seeing each other almost every day. They were watching the skaters at Rockfeller Center when she had turned to him and asked him bluntly why he had made no attempts to kiss her or touch her at all.
“Don’t you find me attractive?”
Jake had been flabbergasted by the question.
“Of course I do,” he replied.
“Then why haven’t you kissed me yet?”
“Because… because Rosalie, you are so innocent and so pure, I can’t do that to you, especially when I can’t offer you anything more than whatever this is.”
“Who said anything about offering me more?” she had challenged. “I’m here because I want to be here. I’m old enough to know what I want and I know I want you. I don’t want to be pure and innocent with you.”
But Jake didn’t look convinced.
“I can’t Rosalie; if I kiss you, I’ll be crossing a line and I don’t know where that line will end. I respect you too much to hurt you in any way.”
She had smiled at him mischievously, flattered he found her so irresistible. She could tell from the stubborn set of his jaw he meant what he said. He wouldn’t stop being respectful and he wouldn’t lay a finger on her. So she decided to take matters into her own hand. Without breaking eye contact, she stepped closer towards him until their bodies were almost touching. She leaned her head towards him, her lips brushing against his ear and whispered,
“Don’t you think it would be fun to find out where that line ends?” And then she kissed him.
CHAPTER THREE:
Amanda twisted her hands together; she did that whenever she was especially nervous. It was a childhood habit.
“Rosalie, have you been feeling alright?”
Puzzled by the question Rosalie shrugged her shoulders, “Yes of course. Why do you ask?”
“Are you coming down with a flu or something?”
“No, I’m completely fine.”
“Well I’ve been hearing you up throwing up the last few nights…”
“Oh.” A flush of color flooded Rosalie’s cheeks as she remembered her very explicit dreams about Jake.
“I’m sure it’s just a stomach thing or something I ate that didn’t sit well with me.”
“And you haven’t been feeling anything else? A little more tired than usual or sleepy?”
That made Rosalie pause – now that she was thought about it she had been feeling extremely tired these past few weeks too. No matter how well she slept the night before, by midmorning she felt like all the energy had been sapped out of her.
The look on Rosalie’s face was enough to answer Amanda’s question. She checked to make sure the bedroom door was still closed and listened for the sound of any footsteps in the hallway. Satisfied there was nobody outside their door she dropped her voice to whisper and asked bluntly,
“Rosalie, when was the last time you had your period?”
Rosalie was so shocked to hear Amanda ask about something she considered unladylike to discuss that the implication of what she was asking didn’t sink in right away.
“Rosalie!” Amanda’s voice rose a little higher and she shook Rosalie’s hand gently to get her attention.
“This is very importan
t, when did you last have you period?”
A sick feeling swirled in the pit of Rosalie’s stomach and another bout of nausea rolled over her. This one from fear, because as her brain scanned through dates and times and quickly did the math, she realized what Amanda was getting at.
“Oh my God,” she whispered softly before sinking to her feet. She turned large, fearful eyes towards Amanda, “Oh my God,” she repeated again. “What am I going to do?”
Amanda went down on her knees until she was at eye level with Rosalie. Her eyes were filled with sorrow and sympathy.
“Oh love, what did you do? Is it one of the boys here?”
An image of Jake flashed before Rosalie’s eyes. Could he still be considered as one of the boys here? No. Her father had banished him from the community years ago. She shook her head.
“No,” she said dully, “it isn’t one of the boys here.”
“Rumpsringa.” Amanda concluded grimly.
“Yes.”
“How far along do you think you are?”
“Maybe a month? A month and a half? I really don’t know,” Rosalie confessed, desperately thinking of the endless weeks of lovemaking she had enjoyed with Jake. She had no way of knowing which one of the times had resulted in this.
“How can you not know? When did you…when…” Amanda struggled to find a delicate way of phrasing the question.
“When did I have sex with him?” Rosalie asked bluntly. “It wasn’t just one night. It was many nights.”
Amanda’s face blanched and Rosalie felt a wave of remorse at putting her sister through this, but there was no sense in lying about this. The proof was in the pudding, or in her oven, she thought wryly.
Amanda took a few deep breaths before saying grimly, “Okay, well what’s done is done. First thing we’re going to do is go see a doctor to make sure you really are pregnant. No sense in jumping to conclusions until we’re absolutely sure.”