Just Like Animals: A Werelock Evolution Series Standalone Novel

by Hettie Ivers

  My thoughts went to Mike and what he had shared with me on the plane. “By killing defectors while their children watched?”

  “Yes. For starters. You see, shared pain has a way of bonding individuals in a manner that few things can. The Salvatella pack is unique from others in that we don’t just tap each other’s minds; we often tap each other’s emotions—both past and present. Gabe encouraged this practice. Preached it. Enforced it. And through this twisted dysfunction, he did succeed in unifying us as a pack once again. While paralyzing us as individuals. Breaking us as humans, and molding us back together as codependent brothers.

  “He did it so that the horror Mike experienced as a boy seeing his mother tortured, raped, and killed could be my torture forever as well. So that it could be Tiago’s and Stephen’s and Raul’s. Never in the same manner that it will always be for Mike, of course, but enough that it sticks. Cementing us through our collective torment and grief.”

  Disturbing as it was, it made sense from a psychological standpoint. I was all too familiar with the manner in which shared pain and grief could strongly bond individuals. Even when it was unhealthy. Especially when it was unhealthy. It was the glue that had sustained my parents’ marriage.

  “Just like the ongoing pain and humiliation of my facial curse is felt by my pack brothers and sisters,” Rafe relayed. “Even if only for fleeting moments from time to time, it’s enough. Because we’re already pack creatures, Bethany. Co-dependent behavior is written in our werewolf DNA. Gabe merely magnified something we were already cursed with by nature. It was a tool to help him spread fear. A way for him to keep us under his control, constantly traumatized and on edge, waiting for the next axe to drop. And believe me, someone was constantly either getting tortured or reliving torture around here.”

  He smiled—a smile so cynical it wasn’t rightfully a smile at all. The fact that his scar didn’t alter a hair proved it. “He maintained that it was for healing—to promote a universal consciousness and strong sense of empathy within the pack.” A muscle tightened in his jaw. “Gabe only ever had noble intentions.”

  He straightened, pushing off the laboratory table behind him. “And now you understand why Sloane’s well-being and safety mean everything to our pack.”

  Huh? Had I missed a key segue somewhere? “No. I don’t follow. How does Sloane fit into all this?”

  “Sloane is the prophesied Rogue who will beget all rogues. The firstborn of a new and errant breed of werewolf species. Some interpret the prophecy to mean that she will literally give birth to the new breed of werewolf species.”

  “But you don’t think so?”

  “No. I think her impact on our world has already begun. Her mere presence is already altering us as a species. Look at what happened with you and Raul. It’s inconceivable that anyone would be able to forgo a mating bond pull for so long.”

  “You know what? It’d be great if everyone could stop rubbing it in. I get it—I’m easy to resist.” For ten fucking years.

  “It wasn’t you, Bethany. It was Sloane’s influence. The same thing is happening with Wyatt. He’s been separated from his mate for seven months now. That isn’t normal.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “When Avery first became a werewolf, she had the same drive we all do to belong to a pack. But once Sloane was born, that drive fell away. This is only the beginning. Sloane hasn’t even shifted yet.” He raised his chin. “That little girl is our deliverer. Our savior. And she’s going to be an early shifter, too. Mark my words.”

  Wow. “Don’t you think you might be putting a lot of inappropriate pressure and responsibility on a not-even ten-year-old girl? She’s a kid. Not a savior.”

  He shook his head minutely. “Every day, she brings us closer to claiming our freedom simply by breathing, Bethany. By existing. Don’t you see? She’s already begun giving us a choice in mating. She’s ultimately going to give us our free will as a species at long last.”

  Why did this feel so upsetting to me? This was good news. Wasn’t it?

  If what Rafe said was true, it meant that despite my ten mating bite marks, Raul and I might be able to gain freedom from one another.

  Go our separate ways.

  Through Sloane breathing.

  “Avery said she barely made it a day or so resisting her mating bond to Alcaeus,” I pointed out. Why was I so set on arguing this? “And Avery’s Sloane’s mom. Why didn’t she have a choice?”

  The brow over Rafe’s good eye shot up. “Have you seen those two fools together?”

  I sighed. Yeah, I had. Avery and Alcaeus were hopelessly in love. It was impossible to miss. There was more than just a mating bond binding them.

  “But werewolves live in packs to prevent their exposure. You’re suggesting that as Sloane’s influence spreads, werewolves everywhere will simply abandon pack existence and go out into the world, assimilating into human society? No offense, but not all of you represent your species very well.” And that was an absurdly generous understatement. “Pretty sure humans still grossly outnumber werewolves across the planet, right? Aren’t you afraid of human mass hysteria? Your entire Liberace estate could be nuked overnight. The world could be turned upside down in a week if werewolves started coming out of hiding in droves. You’re advocating chaos.”

  “No. I’m advocating Darwinism.”

  30

  Bethany

  I’d tricked Jorge into smuggling me over to see Rafe under the guise of needing medical assistance for digestive distress. So it was probably only fitting that by the time I’d left Rafe’s office, I was shitting my proverbial pants over the disturbing information I’d gleaned from the wacky doctor.

  Before I’d left, I had pressed Rafe about the strange “mind block shit” comment he’d made to Raul during our meeting with him the day prior. Rafe explained that most humans couldn’t survive the initial shift into a werewolf without magical assistance from a werelock. To do so, the attending werelock needed to be able to control bodily functions and processes related to the initial shift by redirecting commands through the brain and central nervous system.

  Which meant they needed access to the shifting human’s mind.

  And according to Rafe, my mind had been blocked at some point by an “enemy” werelock.

  The notion that an unidentified “enemy” supernatural creeper had been inside my head before to set up some sort of deflector shield around my brain was disturbing enough. When Rafe reconfirmed his prognosis that, unless said shield was lifted, I was definitely going to die an excruciatingly painful blow-apart-from-the-inside death during my initial werewolf transformation, it was just the sort of over-the-top kind of terrifying news that made a person recently subjected to too much gilding and candelabras crack and start to fall apart.

  My brain was set somewhere between autopilot and comatose as the werewolf guard Rafe had secured for me led me back over to the main mansion.

  If what Rafe had said was true, that meant Raul had lied to me on the plane when he’d said he hadn’t accessed my mind out of respect for my privacy.

  I was feeling more insecure than ever about where I stood with my supposed “true mate.” Raul had become increasingly withdrawn from me in the day and a half that I’d been at the Bariloche estate.

  I didn’t know what was real or what to believe anymore. I just knew I needed to escape this Liberace house of horrors and get back to my life in San Francisco.

  And that was why, when I was dropped off with Wyatt yet again, I found myself pickpocketing his phone and then stealing away to a hallway bathroom in the mansion.

  Locking the door to the gaudy golden bathroom I’d found myself in, I wasted no time in dialing one of the few numbers I still knew by heart: Milena’s.

  I lowered the volume on the receiver and cupped it tightly against my ear. I held my breath as it began to ring. Once. Twice.

  By the third ring my heart sank as it occurred to me there was no way Milena would pick up. Even if
I was lucky enough to catch her when she was available and with her phone in hand, she wouldn’t recognize Wyatt’s number and would let the call go to voicemail. What should I say in a message? Did I dare leave one?

  Then a miracle happened: The ringing stopped and the line picked up.

  “Who the fuck is this?” Alex’s stern voice demanded.

  I nearly cried tears of relief as I whispered back, “Alex, it’s me, Bethy.”

  My voice cracked slightly on the last two syllables. I knew Alex heard it, because his whole demeanor shifted to high-alert, protective big-brother mode, and God, did I appreciate him for that quality in this moment.

  “Bethany? What’s wrong? Where are you? Whose phone is this?”

  “I didn’t want to call and upset Milena in her current condition, but things have gotten—”

  “Where are you, Bethy? I need a location.”

  “Um … South America. In Arg”—an involuntary sniffle-shudder escaped me—“Argentina.”

  The line went quiet. “Who are you with?”

  I hesitated for a moment before answering, knowing that I was about to ignite the mother of all sibling rows. “Um … I’m with Raul.”

  The line went quiet a second time. When he spoke again, Alex’s voice was strangely calm and devoid of emotion, his words delivered slowly and carefully as he asked, “Has he hurt you?”

  Four simple words. But such a loaded question.

  “N-no. I mean … not … really … on purpose,” I faltered. I’d been about to say, “not physically,” but then I realized that would’ve been a lie. He’d bitten me multiple times. He’d marked me and infected me with werewolf venom. And he had drugged me in order to kidnap me. “I mean … not out of … malicious intent …” I winced as I realized how bad that sounded.

  “He kidnapped me, Alex,” I finally blurted. There was no sugarcoating it. “He almost killed Gregg. When I flipped out over it, he drugged me. And he kidnapped me.”

  “He’s a dead man.”

  “No. No, I don’t want that. It’s not like that, Alex. He didn’t mean to hurt me; things just … got out of hand.” Christ, I sounded like a traumatized battered woman undergoing the intake process at a shelter. “Never mind that last part. I just need to get back to San Francisco. I can’t miss any more hospital shifts. I need you to call the American embassy in South America for me, okay? I mean—Argentina.” I shook my head at the ceiling, feeling like an idiot. “The American embassy in Argentin—”

  “Bethy, I know you’re scared. The situation with Raul must be bad or you wouldn’t have called Milena. But I need you to trust me and put Raul on the phone so I can speak with him.”

  “No, no, can’t do that. That’s not a good idea.”

  “It is, Bethany. Please trust me. I give you my word it’ll be okay.”

  “You don’t understand, Alex. Raul’s not exactly … himself anymore.” Oh, crap, here goes. “So … I’m guessing there’s a small chance that you and Milena might possibly know this already about him and that’s why she’s been estranged from him for the past decade … but Raul’s a … a werewolf.”

  I waited for a reaction. “Are you there? I’m not crazy, Alex. I know what I’m saying sounds crazy—”

  “Bethany …” He sighed. “I know. I know Raul’s a werewolf. It’s okay.”

  It’s okay?

  What the hell did that mean?

  “Um … it’s not that okay,” I refuted, my hysteria skyrocketing. “Because he’s more than just a regular werewolf, Alex. He’s a werelock. Which means he has super-cool powers and can poof places. And not only that, he’s the head of a big pack of werewolves and werelocks. It’s like some kind of supernatural shapeshifting crime syndicate.”

  I was babbling. Unraveling. Did Alex not believe me? Why would he say that he knew Raul was a werewolf like it was no big deal?

  “And Raul’s also a manny for this prodigy werelock girl with purple eyes. And she tried to set me on fire yesterday, Alex. I mean literally on fire. She didn’t even need a match, either, because she’s like that little girl from Firestarter and can do it with her thoughts. Raul keeps telling me she’s harmless, but I actually think she’s plotting to kill me. I can’t explain it … it’s just this look she gives me and this feeling I get when—”

  “Bethany, listen to me. Everything’s going to be okay, I promise. But the American embassy can’t help you with this. I need you to put Raul on the phone. Now. Please.”

  “No!” I whisper-shouted before checking my volume. “Didn’t you hear anything I just said? This is not a joke. Everyone here turns into a giant monster wolf, Alex. I snatched a phone and I’m hiding in a bathroom. Raul doesn’t know I’m making this call, and I don’t think he’ll be happy with me if—”

  “Bethy, open the door.” Raul’s voice made me jump.

  Shit! I froze in place as he jiggled the knob. My heart galloped.

  “Baby, it’s okay. Please don’t be scared. Just open the door. We need to talk.”

  “In a minute,” I called back. I raced to the toilet and flushed it, before whispering into the phone, “I gotta go.”

  “Bethany, do not hang up. He can still hear me,” Alex insisted, raising his volume to compete with the rushing water. “Even through the door. Through the phone line. And with the toilet flushing,” he stressed. “He has supernatural canine senses, honey.”

  Oh, God. I immediately felt sick. Alex knew way too much and was way too calm about all this werewolf business.

  “He’s telling the truth,” Raul confirmed from the other side of the door. “Please let me in. I want to talk to Alex, too.”

  I was suddenly dizzy—so lightheaded I feared I’d actually faint—as I stood frozen in place in the Versace bathroom, holding Wyatt’s phone to my ear and staring numbly at the closed door, wondering how long Raul would give me to open it before he simply poofed through.

  Breathe, Bethany. Just breathe.

  “Bethy?” Raul rapped lightly on the door with his knuckle. “You okay?”

  “Bethany?” Alex’s voice was familiar and reassuring in my ear, but there was a tone of resignation to it that raised the fine hairs on the back of my neck. “I have a confession.” I closed my eyes. My free hand reached out blindly, my palm flattening against the marble countertop to steady myself as Alex spoke the words I’d known in my gut he was about to say. “I’m a werelock too.”

  I nodded in reply—as if Alex could see me.

  I reminded myself that I was a doctor. I’d never fainted before. I wouldn’t start now.

  I’d held it together so well up to this point, despite everything that’d happened.

  In the moment, I couldn’t process why Alex’s revelation was the one to push me past my breaking point at last.

  “And Raul’s not going to harm another hair on your head,” Alex told me through the phone with certainty. “Because he knows that I will kill him. Painfully.”

  Bile rose up in my throat.

  They were all killers. Killer werelocks.

  So where did that leave Milena?

  Where did it leave me?

  “I’m not a fainter,” I heard myself say thinly in reply as everything began to spin inside my head. “I’ve never fainted before … not even in medical school …”

  I heard Alex’s voice through the phone calling out for Raul—which struck me as odd—right before my equilibrium tilted and the phone slipped from my fingers. It connected with the stone floor with a hard clatter. Absently, I wondered if I’d broken it.

  I swayed on my feet, the fingers of my other hand losing their grip on the countertop. Fleetingly, I wondered if I’d break too as I felt myself going down.

  “Easy, baby.” Raul’s voice floated above my head as he caught my dead weight in his arms and hefted me off my feet. “I’ve got you. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  31

  Raul

  Alex was still talking at me from the other end of the line that had begun to c
rackle, demanding to know if Bethany was all right in between making threats to castrate and kill me.

  “I’ll call you back,” I barked at the phone on the floor, shifting Bethany’s weight so that she was cradled to my chest and supported with one arm, leaving my other hand free as I checked her pulse.

  Her heartbeat sounded fine. Her pulse was normal too. I stroked her pale cheek and brushed my lips across her forehead, murmuring, “It’s okay. Everything’s okay. I’m so sorry.” I love you.

  An awful pain burned in my throat, then lodged in my chest like a cold, heavy stone as I looked at her. The scent of her distress was so thick in the bathroom. The scent of her fear, too.

  I’d done it already. I’d pushed her away. I’d made her hate me. She didn’t trust me: her own true mate. I should’ve known I’d never get this right with her.

  She’d reached out to Miles and Alex for help. For help getting away from me.

  And I had no one to blame but myself. What the hell had I been doing for the past two days since I’d brought her here? I should’ve been spending all my time with her—making her feel welcome, making her feel loved.

  What was wrong with me? How did I always fuck up the relationships that mattered most?

  “This is the last line you’ll ever cross with Milena, do you hear me?” Alex’s muffled voice raged from the bathroom floor. “We agreed Bethany was off-limits. What the fuck are you thinking? Put Alcaeus on the line!”

  I kicked the phone toward Wyatt, who was pacing outside the doorway—feeling guilty, no doubt—and told him, “End the call, Wyatt.”

  “Right.” He nervously bobbed his head and dove to the floor to retrieve the phone that he’d been careless enough to allow Bethy to get a hold of.

  “Do not hang up on me, Wyatt,” Alex ordered through the line. “Your entire pack is in danger if Bethany isn’t turned over immediately. If any member of your pack harms Bethy in any way, you will all be held accountable. Am I making myself clear? Now get Alcaeus! I want to speak with an adult.”