Black Werewolves: Books 1–4

by Gaja J. Kos

  She could still hear that distinctive sound of bones breaking as she cracked open the beast's rib cage to slash at his lungs, to sink her teeth into his heart and scatter pieces of it across the already blood-soaked ground. Evelin had kept the creature alive for as long as she could. She wanted him to feel every sensation as she methodically ripped him apart. And the whimpering cries let her know she had been successful.

  But even as the mock-life of the werewolf vetala finally burned out, the need to cause damage didn't cease. Evelin released the lock on her emotions, the one that she had clicked tightly in place once she realized she wanted to have a life even if her family could never experience that particular luxury.

  Everything she had kept tucked away, every fragment of darkness she had stored to give herself a chance at living, it all poured over her; the river of emotions was too strong for her to succumb to something as simple as tears. Instead, she pried the body farther apart, opening each limb with the nearly surgical sharpness of her claws until the flesh peeled away from the bone and the creature became nothing more than a macabre fabric of a wolf-form laid out flat on the ground.

  She blinked to clear the blood from her eyes and moved up to the creature's head. She hadn't left it intact, but there wasn't enough damage; nothing had the right to remain. She placed the underside of her paw on the side of the WV's skull and released the full pressure of her weight onto it.

  And with that loud, unequivocal crack, the cool touch of calmness washed over her at long last.

  The werewolf was strong and fought with a viciousness he had rarely seen in the longitude of his existence. Also, there was no hint of hesitation in the female's eyes or body language.

  She intends to kill me. The WV smiled to himself at the amusing turn of events. He understood that it would take even a greater toll on the body to not only be forced to kill a being it had once known, but to experience the murderous wish of that former ally at the same time.

  They moved around each other in circles, the werewolf deflecting attacks of his brethren while keeping her gaze fixed permanently and solely on him. She knew her mark and knew where the worst danger lay. The WVs barely managed to put in a scratch as she evaded their attempts to harm her. She moved so efficiently, controlled her body to the minutest detail. So similar to the corporeal form under his guidance that it made it almost impossible for the two to be anything less than related.

  Family. The creature smirked, the thought even sweeter than the sensation of forcing a soul to drip over into Veles's realm. Having family members rip each other apart was nothing short of the highest, most exquisite achievement one can accomplish with a kill.

  He noticed they had moved a short distance away from the rest of the fighting. There would be less of his brethren trying to attack the werewolf, but he preferred it that way. He didn't care what the wolf-man's commands were when it came to the Black werewolves. The creature had tricked them into permanently entering these corporeal forms... He would not bow his head and obey. He would not kill as instructed. There were still others to slaughter. But her life was his to take.

  A brief flash of fear passed through the werewolf's eyes. Not fear of him, but something else, something that had nothing to do with their mutual desire to kill one another. But it passed, too quickly for him to discover what caused her otherwise immaculate concentration to stagger. As much as he wished to, there was no time to dwell on it. The lethal fierceness returned to the female's gaze, and as that fire began to burn even more violently than before, she suddenly leaped forward, a blur of black fur and those painfully sharp teeth the only thing he could see before he threw himself to the side.

  The werewolf managed to hook her claws into a small portion of his skin, causing it to tear away from the rest of his body as he rolled farther away from the slashing form. Whatever shadow had passed through the female's eyes in those moments before made her even more vicious, more determined to end the existence of the familiar body he was in.

  And it made the fighting so much more enjoyable.

  They nearly mirrored each other's movements, every single one of them well placed and meant to provide an opening for the opportunity to attack. However, their training was too similar; even with the vetala's mind leading the corporeal form, he still worked from the base instincts that had been hard-coded into the body, and those were the same the female werewolf was drawing from.

  While he studied her strategy and tried to learn from his own pattern what move to expect next, the werewolf did the same. Only faster. As he threaded to his right, she bolted at him, aiming at his extended hind legs. The werewolf brought her teeth down into the unprotected tendons below the stifle, snapping them with one quick movement that left the hamstrings hanging from her muzzle. She spat them onto the ground with a satisfied growl while putting some distance between them to evade his counterattack.

  His limp was visible, but not too severe. Even on three legs, he could take her. The werewolf's bloodlust was higher now. He could almost smell it coming to the surface of that thick black fur. And that kind of extremity would open up the needed space for mistakes to happen. He decided to lure her closer, make a false error on his part for her to misinterpret...and then he would take her throat.

  The werewolf observed him with those sharp eyes that had almost bled to red, and he knew this was the opportunity he had been waiting for. One small move and she was his. But as he began to put his plan into action, a call stopped him in mid-motion.

  The werewolf didn't notice it, because the call was inside him, tugging at him and forcing him to drop his course of action. He fought it, but it was useless. His master was calling. And he would go to him.

  Zarja watched as Libor's form bolted away from her and across the clearing. Acting on instinct and on that alluring bloodlust that had risen to an almost boiling temperature, she exploded into a run to pursue him. But when she finally saw the full image that extended in front of her eyes, she let the werewolf vetala disappear in the mass of sprinting bodies. This she couldn't do alone.

  It wasn't only Libor's corporeal form that had bolted; all of the creatures were suddenly running towards one single direction. Towards the opposite end of the clearing. Where Rose and the twins were.

  She felt Jens's pain before when claws had penetrated his flesh, felt Rose's and Jürgen's anger flare up after that initial moment of shock.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, Zarja kept repeating in her head as she joined in with Tim, Evelin, and Mark, who had already begun to pursue the werewolf vetalas' path towards the other side of the clearing. They went after them without any solid plan in place, except the determination to cause a bloodbath; but they needed to bring down the enemy fast or at least draw them away from the three pack mates that would be overrun in a matter of seconds.

  There weren't too many WVs left. The first stage of their battle had taken care of that, but their number was still too great for it to make any difference if they only picked them off one at a time. Rose and the twins didn't have the luxury of waiting for them, not when Jens's vine of the bond was almost nonresponsive, except for occasional glimpses of that terrifyingly crushing agony.

  She knew that Evelin understood, had read the were's train of thought through the bond. Zarja watched werewolf bolt ahead, her speed greater than the others could manage. As soon as she caught up with the WVs and rammed directly into the tail of their group, Zarja, Mark, and Tim fanned out slightly farther to slash their way through the group from the sides.

  With admiration, Zarja watched Evelin leave a crimson trail on the ground behind her. The werewolf had managed to at least severely wound a great deal of werewolf vetalas, if not end them entirely. Out of the corner of her eye, she observed Evelin as she wove through their group with utmost efficiency, always taking at least two of the creatures down at the same time.

  But as fast as her pack mate was moving, there was still a fairly large group of WVs ahead, and they had almost closed the distance to their master.


  Chapter 42

  The wolf-man grinned at her. He dared grin at her. Power poured out of Rose, hitting the creature with all its strength, but despite her effort, his walls didn't shatter. She was too new at it, too weak, still, to face a being who had been around for longer than Veles ruled the underworld.

  Jens lay on the ground, the stab wounds from the wolf-man's claws steadily spouting fresh blood. The cuts should have begun to heal, but whatever the toxin consisted of, there was an anticoagulant agent mixed in it.

  He was alive, Rose could see that much from the jerking, twitching movements of his muscles, but the stillness that she felt from the bond was chilling. The wolf-man had no trouble flinging Jürgen aside like someone would discard a wrapper after he had finished munching on the chocolate bar inside it. Jürgen didn't even register the movement, the shock of seeing and feeling his brother crumbling to the ground too severe to enlist anything but that horrible numbness your body goes into to preserve your mind from losing that final bit of sanity.

  The twins were of no more interest to the half-man, half-wolf would-be ruler of Mračaj. His eyes were set on the furious, power-ridden werewolf standing in front of him.

  With the sword of Mokoš grasped firmly in her hands, Rose moved forward, fighting with each step to keep her metaphysical attack from wavering, while at the same time continuing to lay out the groundwork for a very physical fight. She needed both fronts, needed to divide the wolf-man's attention, even if she was chopping up her own along with the creature's; despite the personal downside, it was still the closest she could get to a fair fight. And with Jens's bloodied body in her peripheral vision, her motivation and that cold flavored bloodlust were much, much higher.

  The thundering sound of paws alerted Rose to the company they were about to receive in a few too-short moments, but she never peeled her gaze off the wolf-man's form. She threw out another rush of power, masking her movement enough to drive the sword towards her opponent. He had been distracted enough by the last jolt of energy for her to draw a thin crimson line across his chest, but the wound was shallow. He was faster than a regular werewolf, and even with the diversion thrown in, he had been quick and agile enough to turn a killing blow into nothing more than a scratch that had already begun to heal.

  Rose cursed under her breath and swirled to the side, avoiding the downward stroke of his venom-tipped claws. He growled as he ripped through the empty air, finding his footing faster than she would have liked him too. Still, she spun her body around, the sword steadily leveled with her head. The wolf-man blocked her attack, but it had cost him. Blood was running down his forearm, and if he hadn't caught the rest of the blade with the fully extended claws of his other arm, she could have cost him a limb.

  She felt the hum of his energy rising in proportion to his anger and barely had the time to reinforce her shields before he fired the sharp, invisible current directly at her body. It made her scream out in pain, but she bit down on it, grinding her teeth to regain control, to not allow herself to drown in the dark pit of agony that had begun to creep up on her in the corners of her vision.

  Golden light began to flare around her, extending higher and farther than before, with the green-tipped embers wildly dancing around her upright form. She could see the wolf-man wince at the brightness of her energy, but the threatening light couldn't harm her. It was hers. And it gave her that moment she needed to push back the pain and go for the creature's torso.

  She gave up the idea of delivering a killing blow. The wolf-man was too strong, too well versed in combat to leave enough room for her to win so easily; but she could maim him. It was a much lengthier tactic than simply finding that one shot to rip out an artery or snag some vital organ. With the thudding of the werewolf vetalas thundering loud, she would have preferred a quicker method, but it was as solid as anything could be in this situation.

  Disable the enemy enough to open up the space for a killing blow. And hope that the werewolf vetalas arrived a little late for the party.

  Evelin, Zarja, Mark, and Tim had begun thinning the enemy lines from behind. Rose couldn't see them yet, not with so many bodies still clustered on the open ground between them. A faint trace of doubt trickled down the bond. They weren't fast enough to bring down all the werewolf vetalas and still come to stand by Rose's side in time.

  The sword of Mokoš made contact with the wolf-man's body over and over again. Despite him being weaponless aside from his claws, he deflected more blows than Rose was comfortable with. It was a matter of less than seconds before the eager and death-driven WVs would reach them, and Rose knew she had to make a decision.

  Jens still lay unmoving on the ground while Jürgen pulled himself into a tight ball of pitch-black fur next to his brother. She needed to protect them, but she couldn't allow the wolf-man to recover either. Howling with frustration, she called more power closer to the surface, letting it boil just under her skin. Her moves against the wolf-man had become almost automatic, put on the solid back burner that had been built from years of regular combat. As her body glided in unison with the sword, she reached for the bond between her and the other werewolves, reached for it as if she could wrap her hands around its ethereal structure.

  It pulsed, more solidly than ever before, and she could feel the vines that bound all of them together outline themselves clearly. She held on to that sensation and allowed her own power to penetrate it, to force it down that metaphysical cable and touch each of the werewolves in their core.

  The golden energy explored the werewolves' bodies, filling out their form from the inside until the power settled deep within the weres and merged with the base of the bond the pack shared. She felt the werewolves glow like beacons, but it wasn't something that showed on the outside. Nothing was visually different on the battlefield, but she felt the underlining image that spoke of how everything had changed.

  It was as if each vine led to a fire that burned at its very end.

  The pack's strength grew, enabling them to move through the werewolf vetalas with greater speed, bringing more of them down with the heavy strikes of their claws and the increased pressure of their teeth. Only Jens remained unmoving where he lay on the ground. But Rose didn't have to protect him any longer. The rush of power had awoken Jürgen from the almost catatonic state. The twin was now positioned in a protective stance between his brother and the enemy. Rose could feel the wave of his silent gratitude flow down the bond before she returned all her attention to the wounded, but very much standing wolf-man in front of her.

  Even with the augmented strength of the pack, she knew the others couldn't help her with this battle. It would take time to bring down the rest of the WVs, and she didn't fool herself into believing she had that kind of luxury when facing the wolf-man one-on-one. The pack had her back, distracting the enemy enough so that none of their ranks could aid their master. And that was the very best they could do.

  The wolf-man was healing his wounds almost as quickly as she was delivering them. Only a few deeper gashes still remained with their mouths gaping red, but they weren't nearly enough to incapacitate the furred creature. She continued to deliver her blows, wielding the sword of Mokoš while at the same time throwing currents of her power towards the creature. At least he was unable to find a hole in her defenses, but other than that, they were at a standstill. Yet she wasn't going to fool herself into believing the state would last. She had been the one attacking, the one carrying out most of the actions as well as anticipating all of the wolf-man's plausible moves; and it had begun to take its toll on her otherwise prime condition.

  Supernatural being or not, nothing could stop the strain in her muscles from building up. She had considered replacing the heaviness of the sword with her claws and teeth, but that voiceless voice of Mokoš's blood inside her buzzed with warning; it would be worse. Relying on Veles's words, she not only trusted her golden energy, but trusted the ancient power of her bloodline as well. Rose did not dare take the risk of putting hersel
f at a disadvantage, even if the tendons in her arms screamed with tension as she continued to wield the sword, constantly cutting into the creature in front of her despite achieving barely anything more than a superficial effect. It was the blade of a goddess, after all, and that voice inside Rose led her to believe that without it, the wounds on the wolf-man's body would truly be nothing more than scratches.

  The air began to fill with the scent of fresh death as the werewolf vetalas lay splayed across the ground where they fell. Out of the corner of her vision, she could see Evelin take down one of the demonic body-riders that tried to reach its master's side. She felt the werewolf's streak of curses vibrate through the bond along with the thought that more WVs had shown up than were initially in the group they had stalked.

  Rose tried to push aside the idea of enemy reinforcements, but couldn't. Not with the wolf-man still standing in front of her, barely injured. His ragged breath was the only small consolation she had. At least her continuous attacks had tired him out, too.

  However, she could sense the strength of the power that was still locked up inside the creature. She saw that eager glimmer in his eyes that spoke of death...and the approaching fulfillment of his vengeance.

  She understood he had waited, maybe not intentionally at first, but the past few minutes were meant to give her and the werewolves hope. He wanted them to believe they could be victorious before he unleashed the full potential of his power onto them.

  She looked into those black-brown eyes and tried to call up all of her energy. She could feel it buried inside her body, but as much as she tried, she couldn't coax it to come to the surface.

  And if it remained locked, tucked away in that safe spot inside her body, it wouldn't matter just how much of it there was or how strong it was. Once the wolf-man decided to deliver the grand finale, Rose would be dead and the golden ember along with her.