The scent of raw meat overwhelmed my nostrils. Flanks of flesh hung from the next stand over. Since the seller was a zombie, I knew a good portion of them were human. The tables displayed small cuts of meat as well. My mouth watered at the sight of fried frogs and sparrows. I licked my lips. I could almost taste the sparrow wings crunching under my canines—it was the best part! I wouldn’t stoop so low as to ask Don for ules to purchase anything, though. I trailed behind him, silently.
As a Warrior, Don had to obtain special weapons for the next part of the Offering. The Warriors were a sect of fighters and trainers who served the Twins of War—the War Goddess, Babd Catha, and her twin, the God Camalus. They sold the weaponry Don would need.
In addition to weapons, Don sought his trainers’ counsel and to get some last-minute practice. He visited the trainers a lot. I had quickly learned that Don was a brilliant fighter, so his career choice of professional spawn player made a heck of a lot of sense, especially given how violent that sport could be.
Don also belonged to not one but three sects—Arduinna and the Twins, but I didn’t know the third. At near-genius level, he served as a trainer sometimes. It would have been awe-inspiring if it didn’t give him yet another reason to be a pompous jerk. In no way would I ever compliment that asshole.
We had passed a stand selling pickled fingers when one partially transformed werewolf sneered at me. “Hey, tasty.” He had a gray, mangy coat. “How about I make a feast out of you?” His yellow eyes narrowed, and two protruding fangs glistened as he leered at me. I quickened my pace. And banged right into Don. He’d stopped to converse with some Hands of the Moon, beta wereduins devoted to the Moon Goddess Luna, the Mother of the Gods. Being impotent made them unappealing to alphas, and they did not mate. Instead, they dedicated themselves to serving the community.
Don turned his head. Immediately, I straightened up. I didn’t want him to think I needed him when I most certainly did not. “Don’t tell me you’re letting them scare you, huh?”
“Yeah, right.” I puffed up my chest, trying to appear bigger than I was. “I was getting away from a mosquito.”
“Uh-huh.” Don’s smile started low. “Let’s just keep going.” He dragged a hand through my hair, messing up my curls.
We entered the town square, where large trees grew around the cobbled stones. Don headed to a monstrous sequoia-oak at the center. Carved out from its trunk, a path spiraled up the tree. Inside, several sections of the trunk had been hollowed out into large rooms. Surprisingly enough, the tree still lived. Along with the Twins, the sects of Arduinna and Dagda, the All Father resided there.
Don smirked. “’Course, you’re not scared, right? So, how about waiting here for me until I get back?”
I didn’t like that idea of being left with the lone wolves, like that one taunting me earlier. Also, a few crones walked the square. Those witches scared the hell out of me, not that I would let on. I had to save face. “Fine, I will.” I leveled Don with a challenging look. He was so possessive and protective of me; surely, he wouldn’t leave me out to be prey for street wolves?
Don rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t make it a minute after I left. Stop being foolish and follow along.” I hated that Don was always right. The stupid jerk.
I stuck up my nose.
“Fine, suit yourself.” Don spun on his heel and headed off to the giant tree. As I watched him go, my fear grew. I really needed to swallow my pride, especially given where he had left me.
A skeletal hand rested on the back of my shoulder, and I jumped. Spinning around, I faced the crone. According to some, these witches sold their souls to Cursed Sprites. Now they lived off the flesh of others. They didn’t attack outright. Instead, they tried to lure their prey to their homes. Even though everyone knew a crone’s game, they still provided spells. People often tried to go with them to trick them into giving out a spell—some survived, many did not.
I backed away from the crone.
“Come n’ see, Oy’ve a spell to rid yah of yur master. Fer jus’ a finger, Oy’ll give it to yah. A finger n’ tis’ all yurs.” That was another thing crones would do, beg for body parts that they would either eat or use in their spells. For one moment, I dreamed of being rid of him, not having to live with him anymore, and finally having my own life back, but crones were tricksters. Whenever they could get away with free meat, they didn’t hesitate.
“Sorry, but I’m good.”
The old crone cackled. “If ya change yur mind n’ don’t wantta be a fuck toy, ya come ta see me.”
“Sure, I’ll keep that in mind.” I had moved toward the sequoia-oak where Don was before I even realized what I was doing.
The crone retreated into the square and found her next target—a female wereduin by herself. She looked anywhere between mine and Don’s age. She must have been an alpha since she was alone, but it was hard to tell. The old crone started talking to her. I wondered how this would end. In our world, it was dog eat dog. If the crone succeeded, then she was more than allowed to feast on her prey. No one would punish her. It didn’t look like the female was buying it, though, and soon the crone was off again on the hunt.
“What’s a tasty treat doing all by yerself, pretty?” A large alpha put a hand on my shoulder. Even in wereduin form, he still looked intimidating. His heavy claws dug into my shirt, tearing it. Fucker. Though not my favorite, I still liked my Meat Skuwls tee.
“I’m not alone. Obviously. My alpha is inside.”
“Oh?” He dragged out the word, twirling one of my curls around his claw. “If I were yer alpha, I wouldn’t be leavin’ such a tasty morsel on its own.” He circled me, closing in on the kill. “Otherwise, you might get lost or…stolen.”
“Stay back.” I was through being intimidated. I wasn’t weak, and I didn’t need an alpha to protect me. Not when that alpha was who I needed protection from. I grabbed the hand on my shoulder and threw it off.
The alpha smiled, his front fang cracked down the middle. “Feisty, arent’cha?”
“I said, stay back. I’m warning you!”
“Or what?” His chipped teeth elongated into sharp fangs, his werewolf rising. Slowly, I backed away. “How abutja put on a show for me? Go on, show me yer power? If ya think yah can fight me, go right ahead.”
I growled low, hating his mocking, belittling tone. I wanted to slash his face off. My werewolf rose—claws extending, sharpening at the tips, canines lengthening into full fangs. Now werewolf, my body was stronger and five inches taller—average size for a beta werewolf as some could reach heights of six feet. My skin became thicker, straight down to the canine padding on my palms and fingers. That made walking, trotting, and even climbing easier. The latter because, however bestial, my hands were still humanoid enough to climb. I had gotten used to the pain from shifting as my bones and muscles elongated, to the point where now it was simply a dull ache. When I first shifted, it had hurt so badly—my tail the most painful, since it went away in Wereduin form—I had to take time off from school to rest.
“Fine.” I charged at him, my claws out, ready to kill. He smacked me off to the side and laughed. My lip hurt, and I tasted the coppery flavor of blood.
“That all you got? Ooo, this is gonna be fun.”
Baring my fangs, I flew at him. He grabbed me and bent my hand back. Pain spiked down my fingers and wrist, and I lost focus, my werewolf waning. The thick canine padding on my palms softened until my skin became smooth. I was wereduin again—my humanoid body smaller, weaker. He threw me into the dirt. Laughing.
I winced when my leg hit the cobblestone surrounded by dirt. It hurt to move it, but that didn’t deter me. Legs trembling, I got to my feet and shifted back into a werewolf. The moment I charged him, he caught me again—his sharp claws digging into my forearms. He shoved me backward, and I smacked the ground. Roots and rocks dug into my sore back, but I wasn’t about to give this asshole the satisfaction of seeing me cry. Forcing my body to shift one more time, I tried to ignore
the pain in my leg. Slowly, I got to my feet. I was losing too much energy to stay a werewolf for long. This would most likely be my last shift.
My claws and fangs out, I slashed at his midsection, but he side-stepped me. “Feisty, little pup, aren’t cha?”
This time I tried to catch myself, but my foot snagged a root. My ankle screamed out in pain, and I thudded against the ground. I returned to wereduin form, panting heavily, exhausted.
A shadow fell over me, and someone bent beside me. Don checked my bruised lip. “You did well.” He sounded sincere. Then he turned to the alpha, growling, his humanoid features rapidly transforming until he was full werewolf. He was infinitely more beautiful than the mangy wolf I’d been fighting. For a moment, pride welled up in my chest. Don came from a breed of wolves that this lowlife would never dream of being. My mate was strong. And handsome. And…I wanted to smack myself. I didn’t feel any of those things for stupid, mean Don.
Facing the alpha, Don’s tone hardened. “My turn.”
They clashed with each other, but I wasn’t afraid of who would win. Don could handle himself in a fight. Instead, I sat back and nursed my bruised backside, trying not to move my ankle too much.
The fight ended quickly. Don stood at an impressive height of over seven feet. His shimmering black fur covered his massive shoulders, well-built chest, and python-sized arms. His dagger-length claws dripped with blood, and he roared as he threw his head back—human and beast in one. The other alpha backed down, cowering with his tail between his legs.
With the alpha gone, Don turned to me. His werewolf features faded, and he was handsome again. His eyes no longer glowed neon. Instead, they went back to startling blue. Upon becoming wereduin, his pseudo-clothes appeared, like they materialized from his fur. His height reduced to his normal six feet, four inches. He still towered over me. At five foot three, I barely came up to his shoulder.
Seeing Don’s pseudo-clothes made me curse. Had I known I’d be in a fight and need to shift into a werewolf, I’d have worn pseudo-clothes too. Not that I had many, but I had enough. Then my transformation wouldn’t have torn my Meat Skuwls shirt and ripped my shorts. Fucking alphas…
That’s when I realized we had an audience. Several betas in the crowd swooned, each trying to be noticed by Don in all his prowess. Those who had alphas got growled or snipped at until they submitted. That didn’t stop them from staring at Don. A thrill shot up and down my spine. I was the one who got Don. Not any of them. Only me. I hated those feelings the moment they showed up and dashed them down quickly. But not quick enough.
Don let out a sigh. “I told you to follow along. Look what you did to yourself.” Gingerly, he touched my leg then trailed his fingers to my ankle. I winced. It was probably bruised, maybe strained? While fighting, I hadn’t paid much attention to the pain and focused only on attacking.
I swatted his hand away. “I’m fine.”
“Right,” Don drawled out the word, then had me up in his arms. “Stop being stubborn. You’ve done enough to yourself for one night.”
He carried me all the way to the car. I hated it, but even though I fussed, he ignored me. Afterward, we drove out into the countryside, where the Second Offering would take place.
He carried me upstairs to our rented room and sat me on the bed. “Let me find a first aid kit.”
I pouted. “I don’t need one.”
Don rolled his eyes. “You’re persistent. But you can’t hold out on me forever. Why not save yourself the trouble and yield already?”
“If it’s all the same with you, I’d rather take my chances with Ugly on the street.”
Don laughed and messed up my hair. I quickly tried to correct it, but with my curls all over the place, there wasn’t much I could salvage. Since Don didn’t own a straight iron, I had to wait until Papa brought mine from home. Until then, I was stuck looking like I did as a pup. Even correcting it didn’t make it look cool—I missed my emo style.
Don rubbed aloe over my wounds, and I sighed in contentment. It felt soothing, peaceful, and something more. His alpha influence was healing my bruised leg and sprained ankle. Then he ran a bath for me. It was all great until he got in too.
I sat in his lap with my head resting on his chest. My body felt drained and fatigued, and I wanted to lie in the warmth of the tub forever. Don’s cologne smelled like balsamic vanilla. I found the spicy, floral undertones calming when mixed with his natural masculine scent. Not that I would admit any of that to him. He seemed content to hold me and pet my hair. I nestled back against him before I realized what I was doing. When I felt his thickening bulge, I tried to back off. He captured me in his arms, preventing me from pulling away.
“Still so cold to me?” Don whispered into my ear. His rock-hard abs pressed firmly against my body. His giant cock poked my back as it rested in my ass crack. He dragged his cock between my cheeks, making me feel every inch of his growing erection. “I have ways of getting you to submit.”
A thrill tingled down my spine and I shivered. I shook my head, my body flushing. My inner walls dampened, preparing for my alpha. Arousal escaped my lips in a whimper, and I moaned. Embarrassed, I covered my mouth with both palms. Don smiled. It was a real smile. Not a smirk or a teasing one, and it caught me off guard. How could he look so handsome? He used my moment of hesitation, gathered me into his arms, and carried me to bed.
That night, Don spooned me before he entered me. Then he had me on my hands and knees in puppy position. At the overwhelming sensations, I sank to my forearms. Grabbing my thigh, he flipped me onto my back. He had to pull out a little to allow the movement. My face burned with embarrassment. I felt like a dirty, little pup-maker spreading my legs for him like that. He hoisted my legs onto his shoulders, making me bend, raising my lower body into the air. He drove his cock inside me, and I couldn’t stop the groan. I wanted to punch the smug smile on his face, but he devoured me with rapid thrusts, turning me into a mush of sensations. It felt amazing and left me crying out for more.
The Second Offering began the next day at sundown. Often called the Silver Offering, it honored the War Gods—the Twins of War—whose symbol was a pair of silver, crisscrossing blades.
We traveled far into Hummock Prairie, which, as the name suggested, was a vast prairie littered by dunes or hummocks. The hummocks were tall enough to climb but not overly wide. Wild grass covered the earth as far as the eye could see, and when the wind rippled through the grass, it looked like a green sea with the hummocks standing out like islands. It would have been peaceful if not for the molebats.
Werewolves had very few natural predators, the deadliest known as molebats. As their name suggested, these creatures looked like a mixture of bat and rodent. Their faces resembled bats with their beady eyes, pig-like snout, and large bat ears. Inside their mouths were rows of tiny, jagged teeth with two fangs on either side. Their skinny arms stretched out like a bat’s but were not wings. They had knife-like, retractable talons on their three fingers. They could walk upright on two legs or crawl on all fours. Their legs, toes, and tail looked like rats, and they scurried when they moved, much like rodents. While their arms were naked like bats, their faces, bodies, and legs were covered in fur. They lived underground in burrows, which were a complex network of tunnels. Molebat drones gathered prey and brought the carcasses back to the colony.
Although much smaller than wereduin, they were vast in numbers. Often entire colonies attacked at once and could overcome a lone wolf or a small group. Molebats could not climb like wereduin could, but the hummocks weren’t steep. It would slow them down but not prevent them from coming.
Civilization kept molebats at bay by forming cities as a means of survival. But out in Hummock Prairie, it was molebat territory. Anything, or anyone that the molebats could turn into food, they did. After sundown, the entire area would be teaming with molebats hoping to feast on weak alphas or unprotected betas.
Alphas had to keep their betas safe, and most importantly, alive. Th
ere was no room for the weak in wereduin society, especially among alphas who planned on breeding. This Offering tested alphas and weeded out the weak ones.
I’d avoided thinking about the Silver Offering because it scared the shit out of me. For the last two days, I almost didn’t want to go to school because Shamar’s anxiety over the event only made it worse. Alphonse’s palpable fear also wasn’t helpful. His stutter worsened tenfold whenever the subject came up. The only one who acted normal was Lucian, who seemed just as bored as always, but every so often a worry line appeared on his forehead.
I understood they cared about me, and it wasn’t uncommon for betas to die at this stage—a lot of them did—so perhaps I couldn’t expect them not to worry. Knowing Shamar, he wouldn’t sleep tonight, and I’d probably find my cell swamped with texts and missed messages from him. I’d definitely have to let them all know, especially Shamar, that I was okay when I got home.
If I got home.
I shook my head. No. I couldn’t think that way. Besides, I had Don. He was Mom’s best student from the way she talked about him. He could protect me, right?
Fuck. As if I wanted to rely on Don for anything. Godsdamned jerk! It was his fault I was in this hell to begin with.
We arrived early enough to claim a good spot. Don found a particularly tall hummock. It wasn’t overly steep but had a defined incline to limit the molebats coming.
I’d taken one step up the hill when another alpha passed us. His eyes lingered on me. From over my shoulder, Don growled. The alpha kept walking. Three slave betas followed him. He had two boys and a girl, and none of them looked at me. I wondered what made them become slave betas. Maybe it was fear? One boy looked around with wide eyes. The other boy kept on walking with his head down. His shuffling gait and slouched shoulders indicated to me that he’d given up on life.
“Get moving. It’ll be dark soon.” Don’s command reclaimed my attention, and I followed him up the hummock. When we reached the top, it confirmed my first observation. Our quilt, and the three feet of grass surrounding it, made up its entire square feet.
The Offering Page 6
