Dracones Boxset Books 1-5

by Sheri-Lynn Marean

  The last man remained a ghost. Each time Soroyan caught a whiff of the vile Ilyium male, it would disappear. Months passed and frustration began to build, warring with his blinding wrath. Still he ran—paws bloody and raw—coat ragged.

  Although gaunt from lack of food, the wolf didn’t stop. The storm seething inside wouldn’t let up until he took the life of the last man, or died trying. No other outcome was acceptable.

  Cold, dark nights filled with longing for a lost mate, always ended with his muzzle raised to the sky. A long, mournful cry would spill from the depths of his soul.

  It was weeks before his wolf even noticed the shadows following him. A month before the shadows finally revealed themselves. His wolf gazed upon the smaller wild wolves. He didn’t want or need company. Letting out a fierce snarl, he pretended to attack. The wolves cringed and bowed to his dominance as he warned them away. Satisfied, he turned and began to run once more.

  Yet, they didn’t heed his warnings. Day by day, more joined the wild wolves as they closed the distance between him and them. Soon, they were ranging right behind and alongside him. His threats didn’t work and it didn’t matter how fast or how far he ran. They refused to leave. Finally, he chuffed dispassionately and then turned away, telling himself he didn’t care.

  When he did finally stop and rest, the wolves would take that time to hunt any wild game in the area. Then instead of feasting, they would drag whatever they killed to him, offering him the first bite. It was only after he ate, or rejected it, that they would feast themselves.

  While his wolf was stunned by their actions, he still didn’t want another pack and kept up his blistering pace, hoping to lose them. At night he slept alone, not willing to form any attachments. It didn’t matter, for some reason, the wolves stayed with him every step of the way.

  Two years later he was worn out. His pace weary. Only forty wolves continued to follow, many finally fallen by the wayside, unable to keep up.

  His wolf gazed around at his unwanted pack, regret seeping in. As hard as he fought not to become attached, part of him had, and he abhorred the idea of his loyal followers hurt.

  Yet, he still couldn’t stop.

  When they entered a heavily forested area, Soroyan paused and sniffed the air. For the last week, he’d been catching tendrils of the scent he sought. He stood restless. He wanted to let the remaining wolves have a rest.

  Finally, he decided to range around the area, to see if he could pick up the scent again, when it came to him. He lifted his muzzle and breathed in. There it was. That elusive, yet distinct unwashed body odor that he’d been hunting for so long. It drifted to him on the air currents and this time, it didn’t disappear. In fact, as it grew stronger, the wolf licked his lips in anticipation of destroying this latest quarry. Suddenly filled with renewed energy, all thoughts of rest fled. He surged across the ground, weaving between trees young and old. His original fury was still a slow steady burn, and his purpose was renewed.

  Hunger for this last man’s blood consumed him, blinding him to all else, as he closed in on his prey. Then a shiver ran through him. Ignoring it, he slowed and lowered his nose to the ground. This was it. He had his enemy, his prey that he’d been hunting so long. Saliva filled his mouth—he could almost taste victory.

  Though the trail he followed held the scent of other humans as well, he dismissed those, until the scent began to circle back. Stilling, he lifted his head and took a deep breath in. Something wasn’t right.

  Keep moving! Suddenly, his skin prickled and his pelt stood on end, reinforcing the idea that something was wrong. Soroyan drew on his power, something he hadn’t done in a few years now. He was too late. An arrow pierced his flank, making him stumble. Pain, like white lightning, shot through him. Soroyan steadied himself and didn’t let it stop him.

  With a burst of speed, he kept going until he spotted his quarry huddled directly in his path. Gathering his strength, he started to leap on the last human who had destroyed his family, when he realized it was a decoy.

  He snarled as another arrow pierced his other flank through his ragged pelt, and then another—finally dropping him to the ground. He lay there, mind stunned and temporarily unable to move, as the hated one he had unfailingly sought walked up with a group of long-haired, pelt-wearing men. Amid gleeful smiles, they tied him up. Then they dragged him behind their horses back to their village.

  When they stopped, Soroyan drew upon his power and though it was a struggle, he rose to his feet. As an Okami wolf, he should have begun healing instantly, but his body was malnourished and rundown, which slowed his healing. A strange tang filled his mouth as they dragged him across the hard, cold ground and though he was on his feet, he finally understood. He’d been poisoned.

  The wolf shook his head to tried unsuccessfully to rid himself of the vile taste. No! Raising his head, he howled with fury. This couldn’t be happening. His revenge was so close!

  He tried to fight it and drew on more of his power. It didn’t help. He grew disoriented and fought the dark fog as everything went black.

  When his eyes opened sometime later, it was to find himself caged with barely enough room to stand or turn. Night had fallen and stars shone in the sky as the men who captured him sat and danced around a fire in the middle of their village. He watched through the bars, hatred gleaming brightly in his eyes. The men turned and looked at him, his prey included. Soroyan felt the storm of hatred thrumming through him and let out a low, fierce growl, promising a death the men couldn’t even imagine. He licked his lips and the men laughed nervously before turning away. He would get out, and he would have his vengeance.

  His breath hitched in his throat when the wild wolves who had followed him for so long crept stealthily into sight. Why? The wolf didn’t understand their attachment to him, and bit back his growl when the pack entered the circle of light. A ripple of fear rushed down his spine. No! This wasn’t their fight. He let out a yip, telling them to leave, but it was no use. Why these wolves bothered, he had no clue. His heart was pounding as they moved even closer to the men, lips raised, baring shiny white teeth as they all snarled.

  He could see the raised hair on their backs and hocks and now the men were no longer laughing. Instead, they reached for weapons. Ice filled his wolf as a premonition of the wolves’ death overtook him.

  Soroyan began to battle against the bars holding him in, using his body, claws, and teeth while the wild wolves attacked the men around the fire. Screams and yips of pain filled his ears and his wolf’s rage boiled as the wolves were brutally slain—one by one—until they all lay dead in pools of blood on the ground.

  A dark red haze crept over his eyes and without conscious thought, he let everything he’d been holding back for the last few years break free. The cage surrounding him blasted apart as his growl thundered through the night. Fierce black clouds quickly gathered in the sky and soon, jagged bolts of energy cracked and snapped angrily, striking the land in echoing booms, shaking the ground.

  In tune with his black mood, his power, drawn from nature itself, combined with the intensity of his wrath.

  The man he’d been hunting, the male responsible for all his heartache, stood in the circle of dead and dying canine bodies. His rusted sword dripped with the blood of the ones who had so loyally followed Soroyan. The man, along with his friends, turned and stared at Soroyan in horror as lightning pierced the ground all around them. Thunder continued to boom. Black clouds swirled violently overhead.

  Once again, stinging rain descended like shards of ice, and his wounds suddenly healed. Soroyan lowered his head. He knew his eyes were glowing bright red as he advanced on his enemies. For while he’d previously left all the humans he’d crossed paths with alone, no longer would he do so. They were all his enemies and they would pay with their lives.

  Soroyan’s midnight coat rose into spikes from the power, the energy that coursed through his wolf. Mired in hatred, he attacked.

  When it was over, his hunger for
the blood of his enemy should have been sated. Yet the darkness inside wasn’t gone. It continued to burn, twisting inside of him, inconsolable, needing release. The black clouds still swirled, blocking the stars, but even they were silent.

  Soroyan, born the son of Fenrir, the grandson of Loki, lifted his head and poured forth his desolate grief for the world to hear. Anger far from gone, his song was a promise of death to all humans. It echoed for miles around, making any who heard gather their young close and shiver in dread.

  Then the wolf began to run once more.

  He tore through villages, destroying any and all in his path. The screams and cries went unheard as he tasted blood and left a trail of bodies behind him.

  Feeling no hunger, no fatigue, no pain—nothing, he ran endlessly. He didn’t seek people or their villages out, but didn’t avoid them either. If they were in his path, they died.

  ***

  Bloody paws tore up the snow-covered ground as he crested a rise and started down the other side. His conscious mind was buried so deeply, he was no longer rational. Hadn’t been in a very long time. He didn’t notice the familiar surroundings, and even if he had, he wouldn’t have cared. Through the red haze that was permanently etched across his eyes, he only saw the two-legged figures up ahead. Humans.

  His taste for blood had grown, and saliva dripped from his muzzle in anticipation of more death.

  Just like in all the other villages, he didn’t hear the shouts. This time though, instead of scattering and running for cover, the men surged close, surrounding him. No matter, the wolf didn’t care. He’d kill them all anyway.

  One tall male with long pale-blond hair, streaked with blue, stood apart from the others, watching and waiting. The wolf set his sights on him and quickly closed in.

  It didn’t matter that the rest of the men closed in on him. Then, for some reason, the male raised his hands, halting the other men from getting too close. Then he did the unfathomable, something no one had done before in the face of the wolf’s wrath.

  He dropped to his knees right as the wolf reached him.

  Teeth bared, the wolf gathered himself to attack when the male spoke a single word.

  “Soroyan.”

  The wolf had grown oblivious to sound other than the thunder of his own heart, and now was no different. Still, he hesitated. Then angry with himself for the hesitation, he attacked.

  “Brother.”

  The sound was a whisper as his jaws closed around the young male’s tender throat.

  “You came back.”

  The wolf shivered. It was another whisper, but enough to prevent his sharp canines from clamping down and ripping.

  What? His mind fought through the fog and red haze as strong hands grabbed him. Instead of pushing him away, they pulled him close.

  The wolf blinked as the same hands buried themselves in his pelt. His heart was thundering in his chest as his mind broke the surface. A pair of sad yet striking silver eyes watched him. His brother’s eyes. Slowly, the scents surrounding him registered in his brain.

  Kyrian?

  “Yes, brother, I’ve missed you,” Kyrian said, staring back at him.

  He would have run, but Kyrian held on tight, and when he finally released him a while later, the wolf stayed.

  For the next week, he prowled on the outskirts, watching the pack through his wolf’s red eyes. Eyes that were slowly returning to normal.

  He had planned to leave again, yet his brother’s strong arms and Kyrian’s love and heartbreak grounded him. Then guilt filled him at having abandoned his younger brother.

  “Please, don’t leave again. I need you.” Kyrian whispered in his ear, shaking hands buried in Soroyan’s fur as he pled with Soroyan to stay.

  Kyrian had been but a teenaged boy when Soroyan left, and now his brother was a strong male; the alpha leader of their pack, king of the Okami wolves. It was clear the years hadn’t been kind.

  Ever patient, each day Kyrian came and sat beside him.

  “How are you today?” his brother would ask. Soroyan couldn’t answer. He didn’t know how he was. He no longer felt anything. Then he reassessed that and realized it was a lie; he was beginning to feel and it hurt.

  Kyrian would talk to him, then switch to telepathy, all to no avail. He couldn’t communicate back.

  Though the human side of him was so deeply buried that the wolf knew he’d never be able to bring it forth, the ice in his veins was beginning to thaw. Guilt reared up along with the slow burn of hatred once more.

  “After everything I’ve done, why would you want me to stay?” he asked when he’d been able to recover enough of his humanity to communicate telepathically.

  Kyrian stared at him for a long moment. “I need you. I can’t protect the pack on my own.”

  Soroyan began to turn away, when his brother’s next words stopped him.

  “And because you are my brother, I can’t lose you again.”

  Soroyan glanced back at him and saw Kyrian’s eyes shine with love, hope, and defeat all at once.

  Chapter Two

  Washington State

  In the present …

  Clouds hung in the night sky threatening to storm, but nothing was happening. Shrouded in darkness, Soroyan stood impossibly still on a rocky ledge above the pack’s den. The urge to go––to run––was like an uncontrollable itch that he forced himself to endure. His red eyes narrowed when movement down below caught his attention. Able to see as well at night as in the day, his eyes tracked a large silver-and-white wolf with bluish-gray streaks as he left the cave thirty feet below. Just as silently, the wolf made his way into the forest.

  Not for the first time, Soroyan contemplated how different their wolves were. Although sired by the same father, different mothers had birthed them.

  He tensed and let out a low growl when the wolf emerged to the right of where he stood. His brother ignored his warning and moved up beside him.

  Soroyan fell silent.

  With the patience of a saint, Kyrian waited. Finally, feeling like an ass, Soroyan stifled the snarl that wanted out and shifted into his human form.

  “What?” he asked, finally meeting his brother’s silver eyes. Eyes that always seemed to see too much.

  Kyrian just studied him.

  Turning away, Soroyan sat on the ground and let his legs dangle over the ledge into space. A moment later, Kyrian shifted into his human form and joined him.

  “You seem even more on edge than usual,” Kyrian said, staring at him pointedly.

  Soroyan could feel his concern. “I’m fine,” he bit out, not in the mood, though his brother was correct, as usual. And it pissed him the hell off. As the oldest, the largest, meanest, and most powerful wolf in the Okami pack, he should be watching after his brother. Still, Kyrian just had to come up and check on how he was. It chafed his ass. He was the pack enforcer, for fuck sake.

  “I know you didn’t want to stay here, but in this search for Toren, I thank you for doing your best to get along with our new allies,” his brother said.

  “It is my job,” Soroyan replied, anger coursing through him because he’d been saddled with having to play nice with others. However, he was really more pissed that he’d failed to locate his nephew already. He shuddered at the memory of his first foray into the city of Spokane once Kyrian finally realized that something was amiss with Toren.

  It hadn’t been so bad when he was younger if he had to enter a city or town. Back then, they weren’t all that large, though as a creature of nature, even then he tried to stay away from the hustle and bustle.

  So many years later, setting foot in any large city made him want to cringe and get back to the countryside as fast as possible. Still, Toren had to be found, so he went to Spokane. It wasn’t long before he realized that he had no idea of how to find the address he was looking for. And asking a human was not something he’d even contemplate. It was bad enough that he had to remain in human form for fear of being shot, or tipping off the humans
to the existence of supernatural beings.

  “Your job is as enforcer,” Kyrian said.

  Soroyan cut him off. “Exactly. I should have found him by now. I should have …” He let the sentence trail off.

  “You are not used to traversing a large city filled with humans in this time and day. The tracking down of missing persons in large populated areas is much more suited to our allies who do this for a living,” his brother said gently, trying not to offend him. It made perfect sense, but still didn’t help.

  He’d always taken his job seriously; it was all he had. He wouldn’t have had that if it wasn’t for his brother pulling him back from the edge so many years before. He owed Kyrian for that and had never forgotten it.

  Plus, the job enabled him to stand guard without having to interact with the rest of the pack if he didn’t desire to do so. At first he hadn’t wanted any more interaction, and later it just became an ingrained habit to keep his distance. Besides, he knew a lot of the pack was fearful of him.

  When he first came back after his rampage, Kyrian had promised that while the pain would never go away, it would get better. Yet after five hundred years of living in this savage world, living with so much loss, Soroyan’s anger and hatred hadn’t eased. Instead, it had grown harsher to the point that lately he just felt empty. Done. The loss of a mate, offspring, and pack members never went away. Sure, it faded, but each and every death haunted him and nights were the worst. Night was when they all asked him why he had failed them.

  The last Ilyium attack in the summer killed many wolves, young and old. Valuable warriors. Loved ones. Including Kyrian’s own mate, Sheraya.

  Soroyan knew his brother had to be beside himself after the loss, and now his only son was missing. Still, he was always so contained, and devoted to caring for and ruling the pack, that one would never know unless they looked close enough.