Black Werewolves: Books 1–4

by Gaja J. Kos

  There was enough shit floating around that nothing should have come as a surprise at this point.

  But Rose still hadn’t expected this.

  No, the pack should never have ceased communicating with one another. Even if it had been to sort out her energy, to make her stronger for the confrontation they all knew was coming.

  Because that single, horrible word changed everything.

  Vedmak.

  He motioned the waitress to refill the almost empty cup of coffee in front of him. With Rose curled up in her hotel room, Veles didn’t need to monitor the streets but found himself unable to retreat to his residence in the woods just yet. The coffee place opposite the hotel had seemed inviting as he had passed it, and he had been sitting behind the small, round table ever since, breathing in the lively energy of the city.

  The upside of New York was that nobody looked twice at a brooding, dark-haired man on his fourth cup of coffee.

  He did, however, receive quite a few appreciative glances from passersby who weren’t completely overwhelmed with minding their own business. But he didn’t care for that.

  He hadn’t accepted Morana’s sincere invitation to take his mind off things, and he didn’t need mortals. The goddess, after all, would have at least left it at exactly that. A different way to spend the evening without altering the day that followed.

  But as much as he hated to admit it—to her and himself—he wasn’t ready. He still recalled the taste of Rose on his lips, that unique energy of hers brushing against his own, caressing his body in ways no other person, no other deity could.

  Someday, he would continue to entertain guests for the night. Someday, perhaps, his mind would cease to be flooded with memories as vivid as the city before him.

  The wail of sirens snapped him out of his thoughts. A fire truck rushed down the street and disappeared around the corner at the first intersection. Veles shifted deeper into his seat. At least he hadn’t seen any policemen rushing into the area he had visited before.

  Not that he was particularly surprised by the lack of developments. The alley in which he had left the vampires wasn’t one many honest people would visit.

  As for the ones with less than noble intentions on his mind… He let the two corpses be a warning.

  Just like the ones at the warehouse.

  His discussions with Morana had produced some interesting ideas that had soon been confirmed as facts during his various stages of experimentation. Thankfully, all were to his convenience and had shut down the last of his doubts.

  One could always identify the markings of their maker. It didn’t matter if they thought their creator was long lost to this world. It only meant that the fact would hit them that much harder.

  Even the dimmest of vampires would know that those bodies hadn’t been touched by the protector of earth-tethered souls. Death always left its mark—invisible for everybody but those who were linked to it.

  The dread that had spread through the vampire community in the early days of Dragan’s release from the hospital had been the product of facing an invisible foe. A powerful threat they couldn’t explain.

  But the lives he had taken… They would know.

  And they would stop. Or retaliate.

  Only this time, it would be him standing on the receiving end of their aggression.

  It was the one thing he could do to aid the pack’s battle. Thinning their enemies and scaring them—or turning himself into their next mark. Either way, the werewolves would have fewer bastards to deal with.

  He lifted the cup of strong, black coffee to his lips, losing himself in the aromatic steam that rose from it in lazy currents.

  Perhaps a few moments purely for himself were what he needed. A time to replenish his power. To focus his thoughts into a sensible, rational whole.

  Tomorrow, with Rose safely stowed away on a plane, he would have time to tend to the uprooters in Ljubljana, clearing away as many as he could before the werewolf landed. But for now, he vowed to enjoy an evening in New York.

  Things were calm in the underworld, and he needed to calm his mind as well.

  Without wanting to, his thoughts drifted to the batch of new arrivals he had greeted the previous day—souls that had been tethered to Earth for far too long, denied what was rightfully theirs. Werewolves and humans. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Rose had kept things safe, but she had moved past her fears.

  Even the memory of her beautiful, exquisite power sent a rush of warmth spreading through his chest, and filled his body with the deepest kind of affection.

  Rose had returned to the role that had been hers from birth. She had returned to who she was.

  He hoped the were would take it one step further. When the time for it came.

  Morana, with all her waning strength, had been delighted to learn of a new goddess growing into power. Despite her isolation, his friend had sensed something stir through that final tendril that was keeping her realm connected with the one in which she had once existed as easily as within the walls of her castle.

  The goddess believed only great power possessed the strength to reach across such distances. She had been thrilled by the prospect, chirping about how there hadn’t been any new deities created since he himself had ascended to his father’s throne.

  Though he had been delighted to see Morana so energetic, he doubted Rose would have shared the excitement. After all, he still remembered her reaction when he had brought up the subject that day in Trentino.

  Perhaps it hadn’t been the wisest choice, springing it upon her just before the pack had to leave for Mračaj. Yet he was leaning towards the idea that the werewolf would have brushed the notion off regardless of the circumstances.

  Rose had been—always would be, even if the distance between them never truly closed—his consort, goddess or not. But, maybe selfishly, he had marveled at the idea of the world considering her as such. A true member of the pantheon, as broken up and battered as it was.

  The werewolf, on the other hand, had almost recoiled at his words. The disbelief in her eyes hadn’t been one of pleasure, not even one of fear. But maybe it was precisely that lack of greed that made Rose unique. Made her a better candidate for the position than all the deities before her. Including he himself.

  Still, he wished she wouldn’t continue to fight the inevitable.

  If Morana had sensed a goddess on the rise, so had others. And even if Rose wanted nothing to do with the title, she would find herself in a similar position as she had once before—the same position as her pack when their ascension had begun.

  Despite there being no visible opposition, the displeasure among beings of power hadn’t eluded him. Sometimes, silence was the more dangerous of the two.

  He knew, without a doubt, that the single reason the seven werewolves were still alive wasn’t the magic of the bond. It was the simple fact that they had accepted their ancestry. As well as their power.

  They had become a force even the strongest among the higher-ups didn’t dare engage without ample preparation beforehand—the restlessness, the fear was second only to the value of their lives. And the pack, whether they knew it or not, possessed the force to bring down more individuals than the immortals were willing to sacrifice.

  The vampires, regardless of the nuisance they presented, were nothing but cannon fodder. But they were also excellent propaganda to display the power the pack held. Although—as it always was in such situations—the final message depended greatly on who its creator was.

  He lifted the now slightly cooler cup of coffee to his lips. And halted.

  It took every ounce of his will not to let the mug slip from his hand and crash down on the floor.

  That alluring, low yet infuriatingly feminine voice was growing in his mind, the sound of it succeeding in freezing him in place.

  He hadn’t altered that one direct link between them. That single bit of magic he had woven especially for her, sacred and intimate.

  Rose was
calling his name.

  And he didn’t know whether he should answer.

  Chapter 20

  Rose continuously flicked out and retracted her claws, her brow furrowed as she stared through the window into the condensing darkness while keeping Serafina in her line of sight at the same time. The Koldunya seemed almost as anxious as she was.

  Low growls escaped Rose’s lips at irregular intervals, the sharp edges of her teeth showing through the snarls.

  She had already learned all she could from Serafina about the Vedmaks, and no amount of questions could change that. All it would do was set the witch further on edge.

  But there was something the Koldunya couldn’t give her. Something she desperately needed.

  So she resorted to trying the single thing that had never failed her before.

  But as excruciatingly long minutes passed since the god’s name had left her lips, as those minutes dragged on with absolutely nothing stirring within the small room, she became impatient. There was no indication of his approaching arrival—only the two of them occupied the space, along with the long lost sound of Veles’ name.

  Perhaps it had been her own insecurity that had put a damper on her call.

  She frowned. Despite the urgency to obtain what only the lord of the underworld had to offer, she was still afraid of seeing Veles after all this time. After everything.

  She’d had months to think of how their reunion would be, if it would ever even come. Bitterly, she realized both options were just as hard.

  She had experienced life without Veles and came to believe that time could hardly change what she felt these past months. The god’s presence had rooted itself so deeply inside her mind, inside the very core of her days, that every minute without him was saturated with longing.

  Yet at the same time, she dreaded seeing him again. Dreaded looking into that chiseled, beautiful face of the man she loved, knowing that there would always be an insurmountable distance between them. Having to stand apart while every inch of air separating their bodies consisted of thousands of memories, gestures, and emotions she was helpless to grasp. Helpless to dissipate, too.

  But her personal reservations had to wait. It was difficult, bordering on the kind of discomfort that raked her insides, but there was no other way.

  She released the god’s name into the air once more. This time, the word completely devoid of the doubts that had still been riddling her body.

  And she waited.

  Beside her, Serafina shifted on the bed, wrapping a lock of her long hair around her index finger. She twirled it nervously, chewing on her bottom lip. “What if it’s me? Maybe I should leave…”

  “No,” Rose cut her off but kept her gaze focused on the growing darkness that crept upon New York. “You’re pack. It’s you that has truly offered me help lately, so much that I honestly don’t even know where to begin thanking you. I won’t have you exclude yourself, Serafina. Nor allow anybody else to do it.”

  The Koldunya offered her a small smile, but her features were tense. Half turning towards her, Rose laid down her arm on the white sheet, palm up. Serafina took it without hesitation, her smile widening as Rose tightened her grip around the witch’s hand.

  The warmth of the touch was comforting, pouring more strength into the silent determination that pooled within Rose’s core.

  “Come on, Veles. Please.” She closed her eyes. “Please. Just this once.”

  Their hands broke apart as a knock sounded against the door, startling Serafina and tightening Rose’s chest until her irises burned with gold. Her senses picked up that exquisite, alluring scent as if they were tuned solely to its unique structure. As if they had been waiting for it all this time.

  She shuddered, snapping herself out of it. She stood and stalked around the bed, the gold that glistened in her eyes diminishing with every step. She inhaled the fragrance just one more time, allowing the emotions and memories to rage within her for that split second before she let go.

  And then she locked all of it away.

  This wasn’t a reunion.

  This wasn’t a chance to reconcile.

  It didn’t matter that her whole body ached for it, that every fiber of her being thrummed with desire. It was only a favor, asked for in a time of need.

  She exhaled, placed her hand on the doorknob, and pushed.

  The hallway was unusually quiet, almost as if a filter had been laid upon Rose’s ears, letting nothing but her raging heartbeat through. She was shaking, and couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Her body had decided to disobey her mind, but at least her thoughts were fairly clear.

  Despite knowing it wasn’t the brightest move to make given her state, she couldn’t help but take in Veles’ lean body, dressed in black jeans and a simple, gorgeously fitted T-shirt; she observed the god’s black strands that were pulled back from his face, revealing the sharp cheekbones, the inviting curve of his mouth, and that olive gaze she had fallen in love with over and over again.

  As she was falling now.

  Her life was on the line, yet she would willingly let everything go to be by his side just one more time before she went down in flames. It wasn’t blind infatuation. It was the kind of love that gave life meaning.

  And in that moment, she understood what her father had done.

  Why even torture must have seemed like an easy thing to endure.

  He could have walked away from Ileana. He could have given her up when his brethren had approached him and saved himself from the fate they threatened him with. Executed, in the end.

  But death was a small price to pay when your life was fulfilled. Even if you wished to linger just a little longer, to brand just one more morning with your beloved into the eternal pockets of your mind, it was a small price to pay.

  Yet it had been Veles that had pushed her away. Not another individual or another force. It had been him, his own free will that had torn the thousands of threads woven between them.

  Each breath was painful, but somehow, she pulled herself together.

  “Thank you,” she said in way of greeting, her voice huskier than she had intended it to be. “I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important,” she added quickly—to reassure herself or him, she couldn’t tell.

  The god’s demeanor was stiff, the usual teasing, self-assured air that seemed to be Veles’ permanent companion now absent. There was longing in his gaze, longing that made her want to reach out and brush her fingers down the strong line of his jaw. But the god had made up his mind.

  She’d be damned if she disrespected his choice.

  Fisting her hands at her sides, she used up every inch of her will to resist that physical touch she had been craving for far too long. She forced her mind to overflow with images of her pack, of her friends, of everybody who was in danger solely because of who she was.

  Focus, she warned herself. Breathe and focus.

  The raging turmoil within her subsided.

  Somehow sensing the change, Veles bowed his head, a single strand of hair falling against his forehead. “May I enter?”

  “Please.” She stepped aside.

  He stalked into the room, straight to the corner by the window—the furthest one the small space had to offer. His gaze lay upon Serafina, and Veles outstretched his hand. “We haven’t been introduced yet, I believe.”

  The sultry, though strained, sound of his voice twisted Rose’s stomach in a knot. She forced down the nausea, focusing on the Koldunya as she peeled herself away from the wall to accept Veles’ hand.

  “Serafina, Koldunya from the temple of Mokoš.”

  A spark of interest glistened in the olive pools of Veles’ eyes. He released Serafina’s hand, casually taking a step back. “Your ancestors came from the Land of Mokoš?”

  The redhead nodded, somewhat nervous yet proud. “And I have stayed true to their beliefs.”

  “Admirable,” the god responded without a hint of sarcasm coloring the tone of his voice. “A powerful ally to hav
e.”

  “A friend,” Rose whispered from the background, angry at herself for just how weak she sounded. “Not just an ally, Veles.”

  The god smirked. It was such a good imitation of the arrogant lord of the underworld demeanor that it might have fooled even a close acquaintance. But she saw the pain lurking beneath it like a dark sea, restless and waiting to spill across the shore.

  “Friend, lover, girlfriend…” The god waved his hand, a single corner of his lips upturned into a skewed smile. “It doesn’t matter.” He spun towards the Koldunya, his expression turning serious in a blink of an eye. “You are powerful. And that is the bottom line.”

  Serafina straightened her back and cast a quick sideways glance at Rose.

  Rose puckered her lips, her eyes kind as she looked at her friend. “It’s true.” She shrugged. “And you’ll find out soon enough that arguing with Veles is usually a lost cause.”

  The god snorted, a hint of amusement breaking through the facade. For a moment, Rose felt like she was transposed back in time, back to where she and Veles had still existed as consorts. Equals. Friends. Where jabs at each other were as natural as breathing and filled with a quiet, but strong love that had seemed unbreakable.

  But the moment passed, and with it, the easy atmosphere. Veles’ features once again bore the shadow of loss, as well as something she couldn’t quite puzzle together.

  And her chest tightened again.

  That Chernobog-damned, beautiful, blissful moment had torn down her already shaky walls. She balled her hands into fists, pushing her extended claws into her skin until they drew blood. Focusing on the pain, she pulled herself together again. Inch by bloody inch.

  She noticed Veles observing her in silence, his chest rising and falling beneath the thin fabric of his shirt.

  Seeing the extent of his discomfort made everything worse.