Werewolf Forbidden

by Christina E. Rundle

  “Now’s your chance,” Rufus whispered in his ear.

  The second guard was frisking the beta in the cowboy hat, Rider. Both Rider and Axel had similar features, if not for their style. The dynamics of the group were clear. He slid behind Dax, grateful when no one’s attention drifted to him. It was a straight shot in through the fence.

  “Do they notice I’m gone?” he asked.

  “Nay,” Rufus answered, fluttering higher.

  Wolffey was tempted to look up at the bright orange light that completed Rufus’s aura, but kept his eyes focused on the crowd. There were a number of cabanas along the fence. He needed only Akili’s space. A quick retreat wasn’t going to be possible when magic didn’t work here. There was a lack of natural resources and there were too many altered materials present to feel the folds of earth energy. Part of the interference could be blamed on the number of stacked cars and other metal atrocities.

  “A woman is marching our way,” Rufus announced.

  Wolffey glanced up at Rufus to see the direction he was looking in. The crowd was thick and all he saw was blasting fires and overly sweaty shape shifters walking around. He started walking in the direction Rufus seemed mesmerized with, wanting to get farther from the gate in case one of the guards realized there was one less person in Mercer’s group.

  “What does she look like?” he asked.

  Rufus kept up alongside him. “Pissed.”

  Wolffey chuckled darkly. It didn’t take long for Akili to hear he was present in the compound. It didn’t come as a surprise when eyes followed him. He wore more clothes than anyone present.

  He didn’t get far before a hand on his shoulder long enough to garnish his full attention. The hand was gone before Wolffey could grab it. It was a very quick brush, but the touch was dominating. The alpha filled the space between them, barely a hair width apart. The fresh, sharp scent of eucalyptus and mint filled his senses.

  “I don’t appreciate being ditched,” Mercer said. Anger slid into his tone. The betas kept their distance, but it was clear the group was together.

  “Your assistance is no longer required, alpha,” Wolffey answered. His attention drifted just past Mercer. Patrons openly invested interest in them.

  “I’d like to discuss our terms before you disappear again,” Mercer rumbled. His voice was a few octaves lower.

  The words were meant only for him as the alpha’s eyes dropped to his lips. With utter awareness that made his skin instantly hot, he could imagine kissing the alpha. It was the wrong direction for his thoughts to drift. He blamed the lingering fever.

  “I’ll bring your father when I find him,” he answered.

  “She’s twenty feet away,” Rufus replied, landing on his shoulder. “She is nary going to hand the key to ye, lad. May I suggest avoiding combat?”

  “Was planning on it,” Wolffey growled in annoyance, missing what Mercer said.

  Mercer’s brows knitted. Wolffey sighed. He answered Rufus in his tongue, which meant Mercer heard the gibberish words. Nothing he could do now.

  “Being here is unsafe. A number of men are watching you. Their hostility is clear. The only reason people come here is to fight and gamble. You didn’t get your picture on the champion board for gambling,” Wolffey said.

  “I’ll take my chances,” Mercer growled back.

  “She’s here,” Rufus whispered.

  Wolffey turned just as Akili stopped ten paces from him, well out of reach. Despite the heat, she wore a leopard print wrap that tied at the right shoulder and came all the way to her ankles. The sides were split and the way her legs were planted in the ground, skin showed to her hips. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Her skin was ebony. She kept her hair short. She was as tall as him and muscular even for an alpha female.

  “I had to see it for myself. I didn’t believe you would have the gumption to walk into my territory,” she said.

  He bit the retort sitting on the tip of his tongue. Topsiders talked too much. When they were angry, they wanted everyone to know about it.

  “I should gut you where you stand,” she said. Her eyes roved over him, standing a little too long at his hips, trying to determine where his weapons were. Her eyes were stone cold when she returned her attention to his face. “But I have a feeling you want something.”

  “You’re right,” he answered.

  “You’re one fucked up bastard.” She nudged her chin for him to follow.

  Mercer fell in step beside him. “You don’t pick small battles, do you?”

  Wolffey stopped midstride and stepped in his way. “I can’t make you go home, but you’re not following me into this meeting.”

  “Anything to do with Chancellor is official pack business and in a couple of days, I’m going to be sworn into the Mission, so I have every right to be here,” Mercer said. His eyes burned with the challenge.

  Wolffey swallowed his anger. It was the full moon and all the shifters were unstable. The smell of blood did little for the predator he saw in Mercer. He considered what Aire’Si would do. The faeries traveled to new territory together. It was survival of the group, which was similar to the pack mentality. Assassins traveled solo, but it wasn’t in his favor since he had no advantage.

  He nodded. There was visible relief at the edges of Mercer’s face that instantly made him want to withdraw the permission. Did the howler think he couldn’t do this alone? The alpha knew better than anyone what he was capable of, yet he was still concerned.

  Wolffey gritted his teeth to keep from commenting.

  oOo

  Akili moved confidently ahead of them, not afraid that the two people behind her would attack. Mercer never directly dealt with her, though he knew she inherited the land and the Pound after the original owner was found slaughtered. She was older than him by a number of decades. Very rarely when he came to combat, did he see a werehyena get in the ring. The vicious spotted shifters had a reputation for winning.

  Rider caught up to him, and pulled him back. “Do you trust him?”

  Mercer glanced at the assassin, assertively following the queen hyena. His run-ins with the assassin were always violent ending with broken limbs, a bloody mouth and finally, a silver tipped arrow ripping through his shoulder. The assassin was trained to kill, and from the very few people Mercer had saved, Wolffey was good at it. Everything inside him said Wolffey would be his downfall.

  “Absolutely,” he answered.

  He caught up to the group before they entered the largest cabana onsite. The flaps were tied at the front, allowing the mild breeze to past through.

  Wolffey abruptly stopped and turned, catching him off guard. He caught the assassin’s shoulders to keep from bumping into him and the younger man immediately stepped out of his hold. The brief connection was enough to stir his thoughts; the smell of Wolffey was constantly at the forefront of his conscious. It wouldn’t be like this if the werewolf wasn’t so close to the surface. It kept whispering in his mind; mate, recognizing Wolffey’s scent on a far larger scale than his human mind could comprehend.

  “Sit, stay, heel. You must understand one of those commands,” Wolffey ordered. The assassin had a sense of humor when he was cranky.

  “Stay here,” Wolffey ordered.

  Like hell he’d stay outside. The minute Wolffey walked inside the tent, Mercer followed behind him. Carved wooden poles were stationed at the four corners of the tent, all facing inward at the dais. The chair that sat on the dais was bulky and antique. Offerings sat on the edges of the steps, giving Akili a walk space.

  He walked right into the cabana and stood beside the assassin. No one protested, not even Wolffey. Spiced liquor and coconut oil sat in the air.

  Akili took her place in the chair. “You slaughtered my alpha, assassin. I should be grateful, but I don’t find your presence comforting. You’ve become an omen among my people. I should kill you.”

  The original Pound owner was found with her throat slit, when Mercer was a teenager. That would�
��ve made the assassin pretty young when he became a killer. He witnessed firsthand, Wolffey’s sadistic nature, but he couldn’t imagine him going after someone three decades his senior.

  “I want your necklace and I’m willing to make a trade,” Wolffey said.

  Mercer’s eyes fell to Akili’s plunging neckline. The charm was chunky and distorted. It had the same texture and calcium rich shades of a seashell. Its overall importance was questionable.

  Her lips curled back aggressively exposing her flat human teeth. “I don’t make bargains with the Unseelie. It comes with hidden agendas. Fight for it. Winner takes all.”

  Dread tightened in Mercer stomach. He wasn’t sweating, his heart wasn’t racing. The anxiety was as foreign as the ebbing essence that told him when Wolffey was near. This wasn’t his emotion. The pit fight request bothered the gestohlen, though outwardly, his demeanor didn’t change.

  Mercer kept his voice low, though the werehyena’s could hear as clearly as he could. “The necklace is important to the cause?”

  Wolffey turned his alien eyes on Mercer. The purple and gold rings that contributed to his irises were thin and nearly hidden by his flared pupils. His tone was tight. “For my cause, aye, but not for yours.”

  Mercer turned back to Akili. “I’ll fight. Winner takes all.”

  Akili’s eyebrows arched. “You put yourself in a dangerous position for the assassin. People will believe you’re allies and he is wanted for a number of crimes. You should think about your decision least you have misfortune in the future.”

  Mercer bristled. “I’m willing to take that risk.”

  “You are willing to fight this traitor’s battle?” She stood. The others in the tent shifted their weight, ready for a bout.

  Wolffey was unmoved by her comment. “She’s right. This is a dangerous wager for you to take.”

  “I’m protecting my investment,” Mercer said.

  “And that would be?” Wolffey asked. His voice was calm. He was too tranquil for someone surrounded by enemies. He never took his eyes off Akili, but Mercer had the feeling he knew everyone’s position. It came from seeing the assassin fight first hand.

  Mercer remained where he stood, also ready. “I need you alive so you can take me to Chancellor’s.”

  Wolffey nodded to Akili. “We accept your challenge.”

  “If your champion wins, I will give you the key, but if I win, your head is going on a spike outside my tent,” she said.

  Wolffey’s jaw tightened. “Blood honor.”

  She nodded. “You’re the one without honor, assassin. Who can trust a pack animal that goes solo? Be back in fifteen minutes. Your champion can change in my cabana.”

  They strolled out from the werehyena’s space and his betas fell in step beside them. Wolffey stopped midstride and turned to look at him. His pupils shrunk under the lavender ring.

  “Why did you kill her alpha?” Mercer asked. They stopped too close to a trashcan fire, and the sweltering heat left him sweating.

  Wolffey’s eyes were emotionless. He didn’t appear uncomfortable with the heat despite his conservative clothing and long hair. “I was told to.”

  “You always do what you’re told?” Mercer asked.

  The assassin thought on this. “It was not in my queen’s favor to let the werehyena continue the private treaty she had with the Seelie Court. I cleaned-up the issue as told. If you are killed in the ring, we’ll both end up dead.”

  “You took a challenge with the werehyenas?” Rider asked.

  His group broke out in questions, but he heard none of them. His attention was on Wolffey who studied the collective group of betas surrounding Akili.

  “You’re going to fight the man on Akili’s right wearing the brown shorts,” Wolffey said.

  Mercer glanced back at the group in the cabana. The man in the brown shorts was solid. “There’s no way you can tell that.”

  He watched the assassin, studying the sharp curves of his face. His solemn attention was fully on the cabana. “That is her champion,” Wolffey repeated with absolute confidence. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how much is riding on your ability to win this.”

  As if Akili felt them watching, she returned their attention with a deceiving smile. In the distance, the fight announcement was being made. His name was repeated multiple times and was nearly swallowed by the uproar of voices placing bids. His connection with Wolffey was startlingly clear. He took a steady breath, pushing Wolffey’s warring emotions down. He couldn’t let the assassin’s issues with the pit cloud his ability to rationalize. It would hinder the fight if he took it into the ring.

  “He outweighs you,” Dax said. Wolffey wasn’t the only one pensive. The man in question was at least a handful of inches taller and a heavyweight.

  “I can even the score. Nay a person would be the wiser,” Wolffey said. The assassin stared hard at the group, like a cat watching lint in the air. It left him unsettled.

  He shook his head when he realized Wolffey was serious. “I don’t cheat. If that’s who I’m fighting, so be it.”

  “Excuse me,” Wolffey said. He turned and left the group.

  “I’m serious, Wolffey,” Mercer yelled after him. The assassin didn’t indicate that he was listening.

  “This is his fight,” Rider said.

  Mercer watched the assassin slide behind a cabana. “You know why I have to do this.”

  “The pit isn’t going to get us closer to Chancellor. We need to put the collar on him and get him to the Unseelie,” Briley said.

  Mercer raised a hand to stop the direction the others picked up on with Briley’s suggestion. “This is the road I have to take if I want to get to Hota.” He couldn’t use Wolffey as collateral when he was determined to keep the gestohlen from the faerie. Both issues demanded a great deal of consideration.

  THIRTEEN

  Akili sent her crew ahead, leaving Mercer, Rider and Axel in the cabana with the alpha werehyena and three of her chosen guards. She remained on her self-appointed throne, watching him as he undressed. The flaps were tied back, providing anyone passing by with a full view. Lucky for him, nudity wasn’t an issue.

  “What mistake did you make that left you in such an unfortunate position?” Akili asked. She leaned back in her chair, studying him. When he didn’t immediately answer, she smiled. “You can tell me. We might be able to help each other with our mutual problem.”

  Mercer pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to Axel. The air licked at his sweat, but did nothing to cool his temperature. “I doubt our problem is mutual.”

  Her chuckle was sharp and high resembling a hyena even in human form. “If it’s the necklace you want, I will give it to you right now if you go over there and snap his neck. A fight in the ring won’t be necessary.”

  Mercer stiffened. His wolf was close enough to the surface of his skin, that it was no more thrilled with the thought of killing the assassin, than the human side of him was. One body, two minds and both were in agreement; it wasn’t going to happen. The werewolf was surer of this decision than he was.

  “I’m sticking to the agreement,” Mercer said, kicking off his shoes and socks.

  “You would fight for an Unseelie?” Her voice rose in surprise.

  “He’s a werewolf,” he countered.

  There was no humor in her snort. “He’s insane.”

  Though the assassin was within sight, there was enough distance that he couldn’t feel his essence. Wolffey was out of place among his peers and stood apart from everyone. His attention was at an angle; his lips moved, though barely and the furrow in his brow said it wasn’t a great conversation he had with himself.

  “That’s your judgment, not mine,” he said.

  She stepped off the dais but didn’t close the distance between them. “The better deal is with me.”

  “I doubt it.”

  She stormed out of the cabana towards Wolffey. The assassin’s attention zeroed in on her and Mercer felt the stand
still at the very core of his being. Wolffey wasn’t breathing. He’d seen that stance before. People ended up dead when Wolffey had that look on his face.

  “What do you want me to do?” Axel asked. He stood halfway out the cabana, ready to get involved.

  “He can handle it,” Mercer said. He loosened his belt and stepped out of his remaining clothes. There was no circulation in the cabana which caused sweat to drip down his spine and the back of his legs, tracing the seams of his human skin.

  From the dead stare the assassin gave, Akili didn’t get the response she wanted. Mercer let his breath out slowly when she started towards the arena. His blood was hotter than the muggy, summer air and his pounding heart elevated making his skull pulse. The werewolf howled in his psyche as his vocal cords twisted, but it never gave birth to sound.

  The tightness released at the base of his skull; like a zipper, the relief slid down his vertebral column to his tail bone. Gravity pulled him to the ground as his skin loosened. The transformation was in his bones, snapping and rebuilding. It was the seconds between man and animal that hurt, when his nerves were hypersensitive to his body readjusting. The tension built. His jaws bled into the grass underneath him; then his maw pushed through his human mouth. The man was gone, leaving his fur wet.

  His animal consciousness brought a new level of awareness. The scents in the cabana magnified. He could smell the hyena pack; hot, wet desert sands and musky fur. There was an array of incense burning in silver dishes overhead and he could smell the distant remnants of a chicken lunch.

  “Ready?” Rider asked.

  Mercer padded past him and his betas fell in step beside him. Smells accumulated this close to the ground. Silver flashed in the assassins fingertips, but was quickly gone.

  He wasn’t surprised by the weapon. Wolffey’s now empty hand twitched. Mercer looked upward at him, surprised by the reciprocated interest. The human side of him wasn’t so far removed that he didn’t recognize scents. The basic instincts were there, the need to survive. It whispered with a tone that was utterly understandable to his current mindset… mate.