by Beast
The howler’s voice went silent, the deafening call of the Echo dimming a touch, as the bullet exploded through its skull, black blood dripping everywhere, too dead and tainted to ever rouse any wolf. While Wren righted himself and kept running, Ero braced his pistol against his forearm, sighted, and took another shot, dropping another howler, quieting the night a tiny bit more. Again and again and again…until those bodies collapsed one after the other. They seemed drawn to Wren, for some reason, and Ero used that to pick them off until nearly a dozen of them lay on the ground at awkward angles, convulsing as their strange non-life bled out, poisoning the soil with their black blood. Ero stopped, breathing hard, listening for more…but the night seemed clear, calm, the Echo almost silent. The shots might draw more, but they were likely miles away.
They were in the clear, for now, but he’d rather pack up and get moving just to be safe.
He holstered his pistol and turned to catch up with Wren, moving at a quick lope to overtake him—only to dive to catch him as Wren tripped on something in the grass, some half-buried bit of old equipment, and stumbled forward. The jagged bit of metal caught his arm as he went down, and he let out a wild cry of pain as blood streaked down his arm.
Blood.
The blood of an omega, its scent richer than any other’s, swarming toward Ero in a cloud and stopping him in his tracks as it wrapped around him, took him over.
And filled his world with red, rising inside him like a tide, a scream, a hunger that could never be sated as his body came to life and tore him apart with vicious, anticipatory abandon.
Tonight, he would feed.
T
Wren had never seen a wolf like Ero in his life.
He’d been large when fully shifted, but still a wolf…while this majestically powerful, hot-eyed beast in front of him was something else. This hybrid of man and monster, massive, chest heaving, larger than five men together and bristling with spikes of black fur, claws murderous sickles, teeth long and vicious and terrible; the change had come savaging over Ero with a roar, as this massive behemoth of a lycanthrope seemed to tear its way out of the man’s flesh, and now Wren understood why Ero wore his leathers wrapped that way, when the flex of his expanding body caused them to unravel and fall without ripping apart. Muscle rippled everywhere, defined even through the thick layer of his pelt. He looked as though he could tear Wren apart with a single claw, and as he sank down into a low crouch, body tensing, chest heaving, corded sinew writhing, hunger a hot scent on the air…
Wren realized he had every intention of doing so.
Tearing him apart, and devouring him whole.
Because Wren was bleeding, a scratch down his arm already sealing away but the blood still on his skin, and there was nothing left of Ero in those wild blue eyes that cut into him with burning, feral intent.
With a whimper, Wren scrambled back along the ground; he could shift, try to run, but Ero was so much larger, faster; he didn’t have a chance. If he showed throat, submitted, Ero would only tear his neck open, then weep over his body later when he realized what he’d done—especially if his rampage continued over the nearby settlement of humans. There had to be something of the gentle man Wren was coming to know inside the leering, open jaws of the beast, but if Wren didn’t snap him out of it soon he would die, or worse.
Unless…
Fear tightened in the pit of his stomach, as his gaze dropped to the black sheath of skin between Ero’s thighs. Ero had…had touched Wren to bring him back to himself when he’d smelled human blood. Maybe Wren could do the same for Ero.
But he couldn’t stop his trembling, as he shifted over onto his hands and knees, dragging his robe aside and unwrapping the strips of cloth that made up his undergarment to let it fall down his thighs, baring his ass, his cock, the naked warmth of his folds, too exposed to the air, shameful…but he would shame himself if it would save Ero. He reached back to spread his folds with two fingers, looking over his shoulder, meeting that mindless, animal blue gaze.
“Ero…” he whispered, voice breaking, heart thumping. “Ero, use me. It’s my fault you’re like this. Use me. It’s okay.” He sucked in a gasping breath, nearly a sob. “Just…just come back to yourself. Come back to me.”
Ero’s only answer was a low, menacing growl, his head lowering; Wren bit back another whimper, struggling not to scream, to run from those jaws, that lolling tongue, but he made himself hold Ero’s eyes, searching for some hint of the man in the madness, the bloodlust. The scents on the air between them burned, but he caught a shift in that heated hunger, that gave him a spark of hope—the smell of arousal, and Ero’s sheath swelled, thickening, then drawing back as his engorged cock slid from within, stretching out in a dripping, thick shaft with a pointed head and a bulbous knot at the base, glistening and leaking hotly musky streams of pre-come.
Wren’s insides froze. There was no way he could fit that inside him, no matter how his body might stretch; it was too massive, too thick, and his inner folds clenched up in anticipation of pain, trembling inside him…
As Ero sank back on his haunches, that thick cock rearing like a weapon, before he sprang forward, his massive weight bearing Wren down, crushing him against the ground as clawed fingers grasped and tore at his hips, raking lines of pain and fresh hot blood-scent. Wren screamed, only to break off in a choking sound as those taloned hands grasped his thighs, dragged them apart, stretching and straining inner muscles, spreading him wide. A rough, dripping tongue slithered over his cock, his folds, and he dug his fingers into the earth with a cry, a shock of pleasure ripping through him in tandem with the pain. Ero’s tongue worked into him, squirming and thrusting, licking him inside until he sobbed with the raw hot washes of sensation, confusion flushing over him. He’d thought Ero would mount him like an animal immediately, but instead the wolf teased him with hot blasts of breath, with the taunting edges of sharp teeth just barely grazing his flesh, and Wren whimpered as his body tightened, spasming, wetness rising and flooding and dripping over his flesh, his nipples hard and aching and scraping against his disarrayed robes.
But after a few more working thrusts, that tongue withdrew…and he felt the pointed, subtly curving tip of Ero’s cock pressed against him, rubbing from the base of his cock along the length of his slit, smearing burning-hot precum against his skin. Wren almost cut himself biting on his lower lip, trying not to scream again—but he couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t stop the high, guttural cry that rose in his throat as Ero gripped his hips, forced him still…
And rammed that massive cock against him, brutally forcing him open, his pelvis feeling like it was about to crack and his legs stretching impossibly wide as the flared cock-head spread him, opened him, tore space to fit Ero inside and left Wren sobbing, burning, torn and confused between arousal and terrified pain. Everything was a haze of madness and agony and skin-stripping sensation, friction against his inner walls and a deliciously awful stretching feeling as that thick cock forced deeper and deeper. Ero arched over him, warm fur and solid muscle crushing against Wren’s back, reminding him how tiny he was beneath this monstrosity, pinned and trapped as Ero worked his cock deeper and deeper with low, whuffing growls.
Growls that turned into frustrated snarls, as that pointed cock-head hit something inside Wren painfully enough to jolt another scream from him, and went no further. The full length wasn’t even inside him; there was no room, and when Ero rocked his hips, thrusting against that soft inner barrier again, Wren wept in broken, gasping cries as pain shot through him like lightning and his body gave it back as some kind of warped, perverse pleasure. Connaught had always been rough and animalistic with him, but never like this; never pure raw feral mating, bestial and savage, and Wren was swept away as Ero’s weight bore him down and the wolf began rutting into him in raw, rapid, pounding thrusts.
He’d never felt anyone so deep before, never felt like he was being torn open and reshaped every time that cock surged into him, splashing wet pre-come all over
his skin and dripping on his thighs, into the grass, down his straining, hard cock. Wren writhed helplessly, only to go completely still as Ero’s jaws clamped down on the back of his neck, sharp teeth holding without piercing, dominating him and reminding him of his place. Every submissive part of him went belly-up, liquefying, melting, dissolving into a hot haze of wild, frightening, searing pleasure as his body twitched and convulsed, sensitivity ramped high, the scent of Ero’s musk driving him wild. Deeper, deeper, deeper Ero slammed into him, inhuman strength turning his thrusts into raw ravaging power, slamming against that softness inside…
Then breaching it in a single screaming burst of agony, thrusting past and seating Ero somewhere forbidden inside Wren, violating him so intimately Wren could hardly stay conscious for the overwhelming intensity of it. The knot at the base of Ero’s cock wedged tight against Wren’s folds, rubbing and grinding against them teasing…before with one last huffing snarl, Ero thrust again, his grip on Wren’s hips dragging him back, forcing him open, splitting and warping and molding him as that thick knot slid inside him and locked in place.
He hovered for one trembling moment on the verge of unconsciousness, so used and abused and pleasured and taken he could hardly maintain his sanity, hardly believe his own depravity when he craved more of this. More of that furred body arching over him; more of that impossible strength and undeniable heat taking him over; more of that dominance; more of that animal cruelty and raw unfiltered need. Because it was Ero, he realized, as Ero’s deep, claiming growls burned in his ears. Because this felt right, felt good, felt like something he’d been craving forever and ever on end, but hadn’t known it until he’d found it.
And as Ero’s knot swelled inside him, as Ero’s cock twitched and throbbed and let forth a bursting stream of scalding wetness inside Wren…Wren dissolved, fell apart, came like sparks showering everywhere, his entire body wracked to its utter limits as his folds convulsed and spilled wetly, milking at Ero’s cock, while his own cock jerked and spurted and shivered against his belly. He writhed on Ero’s ever-flooding cock, the weight of more and more come inside him, the scent of blood hot on the air…
…and drugging him into darkness, as he passed out beneath the werewolf’s straining weight.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ero didn’t deserve to call himself a wolf.
Nor did he deserve to call himself a man, an alpha, or anything other than a disgusting wretch for what he’d done, when he’d come out of a blood-haze and collapsed back into his human form, coming to his senses to find Wren half-broken across his lap, barely breathing, his body used and torn and stained in blood and come, his robes ripped and reddened, and some terrible sick part of him wanted to hold Wren down and sink his teeth into the nape of his neck and do it again and again and again.
Instead he’d made himself carry Wren back to their camp, laying him down in the blankets and looking down at him worriedly when he barely seemed to be breathing.
“Wren?” Ero breathed, his throat constricting, and shook him gently. “Wren.”
Wren stirred with a low sound, his eyes fluttering open, before he smiled faintly. “I’m okay,” he whispered raspily. “I’m okay, I promise I am, I just…I just need to rest.” He reached up to caress trembling fingers to Ero’s lips. “You’re back.”
“I am,” Ero said raggedly, and gathered Wren up into his arms, holding him fast and burying his face against his hair, struggling to breathe. He could have…he could have seriously hurt Wren, could have killed him… “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I did this to you.”
“I asked you to.” Wren’s mouth moved soft and wet against Ero’s skin as the omega buried his face into his throat. “I wanted you to.”
“Why?”
“You’ve done so much for me. You’ve protected me, fed me, taught me that I can stand with someone else instead of kneeling for them.” Slim arms slid weakly around his neck, yet still managed to hold fast. “This is the first time I could do something for you.” Soft breaths curled against his throat, and Wren nuzzled into him. “And…it…it felt good to be with you. I feel…Ero, around you I just…I feel…”
“Wren…” Ero clasped his wrists gently and pulled his arms back, breaking Wren’s embrace even if it hurt so deeply. He shook his head, looking down into hurt, wounded eyes. “I’m far too old for you. And I’m a monster.”
“If you’re a monster, so am I,” Wren protested. “I…I would have killed humans, if you hadn’t stopped me. We’re no different.”
“But we are,” Ero hissed. “You saw me. You saw what I became. That’s not like other wolves. It’s not normal.”
Wren hesitated, his shaky breaths loud between them, before he looked away, tugging back on Ero’s grip on his wrists. “Why are you so different, then?”
“I don’t know.” Ero let go with one last apologetic stroke over slim wrists. “My age, maybe. We change as we grow older. We get stronger, can control how we change more. But there are so few of us who survive longer than a century, and we almost never find each other.” The smile that creased his lips felt bitter and cold. “It’s not as if we can compare notes often. And it’s not like I can just send them an email.”
“E…mail…?”
“An old way we used to be able to talk, by sending letters over electric signals.”
“Like how dryads talk.”
“Yes. But we could do it with machines, instead of…what they do.” Ero looked down at Wren helplessly. This wasn’t helping—and he didn’t know how to make Wren understand that what this was between them…it was dangerous. “Wren…Wren, I was there.”
The omega’s brows knit together, and he cast Ero a wary glance. “What…?”
“When the Disc came down, I was there,” Ero confessed. “Not right at the impact site, but close enough. I was a researcher, working in the Arctic.” Shaking his head, he looked away, somewhere over Wren’s head, and raked his hand back through his hair. “I still don’t know how I survived, when the ice caps broke up and the sea rose and everything was swallowed as the mountain rose up from the ocean floor to meet the Disc.” He still remembered the fear, the panic, sea water rushing down his throat. “The change is probably the only thing that saved me. I woke up weeks later, washed up on a rocky ocean shore in the ruined remains of Alaska.” He trailed off. The whispers…the whispers had started then, these things that were more felt than heard, deep black poison in his veins. “Sometimes I think that’s the real reason I’m like this. The Echo whispers things to me, and tells me I’m one of the first. Like it owns me.” He shuddered, loathing virulent inside him. “Like I’m some kind of terrible creature it made to test what it can do, before it swept the rest of the world and took so many else.”
“And that’s why you won’t look at me?” Wren whispered, hunching into his shoulders. “Because you’re afraid of what the Disc made you?”
“Yes,” Ero answered, and silently pleaded for Wren to understand. “I’m not safe, Wren. I’m not even sure I’m sane. Just because I seem calm on the outside…”
“But you don’t,” Wren challenged. “Because I can smell you. I can smell you wanting me, I can smell that you get confused the way I do when you look at me. Because you…you’re feeling this strange thing, too, aren’t you? But you’re going to tell me you’re too dangerous.”
“Because it’s the truth,” Ero said, and pulled back, pulled away. He needed some air, some room to breathe where he couldn’t smell himself mingled with Wren, and that quiet thing that whispered mate, mate, mate. “I’m too dangerous for you. I’m too dangerous for myself.” He shook his head, rising to his feet. “I’ll be back.”
Wren didn’t call him back, as Ero strode into the forest.
But those pale green eyes haunted him, chasing him into the dark.
T
Wren curled up on his side to rest his tired body after Ero was out of sight, and glared up at the sky. Stupid wolf. Stupid man. Stupid jerk, acting as he could just…just…twist W
ren up this way and then push him off like nothing happened. It wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t fair, when there was something alive inside him now, something that knew the feel of Ero and the scent of him, and that desperately craved more. Something that cried that Wren wouldn’t be able to live without him—as if whatever part of him had been sleeping with his pack had awakened now, and it could only thrive when bathed in Ero’s light.
Was that what Ero had meant about finding one’s mate? That somehow, something triggered that warmth, that perfect feeling of rightness, and you just knew?
But what happened when that feeling was one-sided, and even as Wren yearned for it desperately, Ero pushed him away and put distance between them?
He buried his face against his arms, and told himself he wouldn’t cry. Not over a stranger; not over a man who couldn’t possibly be his mate, no matter what these feelings inside himself whispered.
But he couldn’t stop how his shoulders shook. How his breaths caught.
And how his chest ached, as he let the burning in his eyes overflow.
He didn’t recall falling asleep—but he must have, giving in to his exhausted, ravaged body that was taking its time healing, so drained of energy he had almost nothing left. But he only realized he’d been asleep when he was snapping awake, sucking in a sharp breath as he was brought back to the stretched, searing pain between his thighs, even if the rest of his body seemed to have recovered in his sleep. The reminder of why he was sore sent a hot flush through him…one that turned cold as he realized Ero was nowhere in the camp.
And the sun was shading toward the horizon, edging toward sunset.
Wren had slept all day…and Ero hadn’t come back.
Ero’s things were still here; he wouldn’t leave without those. What if something had happened to him? What if he’d been found by human hunters, hurt and killed, while Wren had been here sleeping? What if—