Werewolf Forbidden

by Christina E. Rundle

  Mercer gave him a passing glance before turning his attention to the tree. The alpha rubbed his hand over the bark before Wolffey could stop him. “This is strange. This isn’t a native tree. I’ve never seen it before.”

  Wolffey held his breath until he was sure he could breathe without quivering. He never should’ve come back to Texas. There were too many unwanted memories and people he needed to stay clear of. He broke a number of the fey rules and that didn’t account for the artifacts he’d taken and returned to the rightful owners.

  He started walking, forcing Mercer to follow. “I suggest you never come here after tonight. It’s an open doorway and the demons use it.”

  The woods were darker than he remembered, though he’d been high on excitement and anxiety that day. Everything had been new. It was his first time off the farm and around human teenagers. The forest still smelled as he remembered; flowers, pollen and animals, though he wasn’t sure he even remembered what the succubus smelled like.

  “I thought demons were stories,” Mercer said, picking his way through the woods behind Wolffey.

  “They are more than stories,” Wolffey answered.

  He paused long enough to situate his sense of direction. The lake was nearby. The trees covered the path, but the smell of water was strong. He turned back in the direction he remembered picking through when he looked for Dryer. There was no path and the trees grew close. It wouldn’t stop a determined man, lured by the succubus, but without the demons in the midst of the hunt, it was hard to find a direction.

  Mercer grunted in response, a strange mixture of amusement and irritation. “We need to talk.”

  With Mercer, an alpha male present, why weren’t the succubus lured out? He glanced over at Mercer whose attention was on the trees. The female demons should’ve smelled him. His stomach tightened and he refused to acknowledge how that made him feel. Jealous. The werewolf was in another world, one he would never share or understand.

  “No we don’t, howler.” The less personal the better.

  He took careful steps, pushing the heavy branches out of his way. The limbs were weighed by the leaves that were nearly half his size. He pushed through the last grouping, into the clearing. The tree he stared at was large and twisted, swollen outward on the bottom like a pregnant woman. A hundred thinner vines twisted upward and curved out giving it the body.

  Mercer mumbled appreciation under his breath. Wolffey seconded that notion. The alpha began to pass him and he caught his arm.

  “I didn’t tell you what to do.” Wolffey’s words were breathless. Tension tightened his gut. The succubus saw him watching them take advantage of Dryer. Mercer was an alpha, he was stronger than Dryer, but the succubus had an allure.

  “Well?” Mercer asked. The alpha’s penetrating brown eyes drifted down to his nose and settled on his lips before meeting his eyes again.

  Despite himself, Wolffey blushed. His thoughts dragged the silence past its comfort level. The howler was a distraction. He needed to focus.

  “There is energy here that can be manipulated,” Wolffey said. From the look on Mercer’s face, the Skin Walker was already aware of this. “I need you to open the doorway, if you can.”

  Mercer’s eyes darkened. “Skin Walkers have a word for the energy here and it’s not friendly. Where does this doorway lead?”

  He shook his head, but the lethargic daze remained. “This is…” There were some worlds not even the fey were at liberty to cross which included more than three hundred doorways into demon realms, this being one of them. “Lilith has the other half of the key.”

  “We’re talking about the Biblical Lilith?” Mercer asked. A muscle in his jaw ticked as he mentally assessed the situation.

  Wolffey glanced at the tree, trying to gauge his thoughts. “Don’t sound so surprised, howler.”

  The tail end of that taunt came out airy. The next breath he drew was filled with Mercer’s scent. He took a step back, putting distance between them, but the alpha closed in, leaving Wolffey with his back pressed against the tree, trapped. The bark dug into his back through the many layers of his clothes. His heart raced. His mind was dazed.

  He breathed in the clean smell of eucalyptus and mint that radiated from Mercer’s warm skin. He found more comfort in the alpha than he did in the phantom memory of Dryer. The alpha closed in, careful not to let their bodies touch as he boxed him against the massive tree trunk. It gave him a moment to appreciate the way Mercer’s shirt hugged his broad shoulders and muscular arms.

  Mercer’s breath was warm across his nose, and then his mouth. He sighed, feeling fluttery and content. He swallowed hard when the tip of their noses brushed. Wolffey tilted his face and Mercer gave him chaste kiss at the edge of his lips. He brushed his check along Mercer’s scruffy cheek.

  “Wolffey.” The voice was a whisper, as soft as the summer breeze. No, it wasn’t a breeze. When he heard his name again, it brought more than a warning, it brought his identity. He couldn’t forget the task.

  The alpha pulled him close, making their bodies flat. It was the feel of Mercer’s external excitement that brought reality crashing back. Rufus hung over his head, adding to his embarrassment.

  “Lad, the succubus territory is influencing yer thoughts,” Rufus warned. His wings gave a speckled rainbow over the side of Mercer’s face, something the living would never see.

  He caught Mercer’s shoulders and pushed him back. Despite the summer heat, he instantly missed Mercer’s closeness. His body tingled. He knew nothing about touch, had never been touched; yet, he missed the energy behind the fingers that traced lines across his face and pressed heat against his body. “I can’t let you do this.”

  “What? Kiss you?” Mercer’s eyes were clouded.

  Wolffey’s arms bent when Mercer leaned inward trying to kiss him. It was his guilt that gave him the energy to push the alpha away. “You don’t know who I am.”

  “Not for a lack of trying,” Mercer said. His brows furrowed in thought. The daze started to lift from the alpha’s eyes and he dropped back. He pushed a hand through his hair, pushing the long, black strands from his face. “Shit,” brows furrowed, his inner gears were clicking in thought. “How old were you when you were taken?”

  Wolffey shook his head, drawing a hand flat over the air. Aire’Si often used this gesture when something was not up for discussion, but the way Mercer stared at him, apparently it wasn’t universal. “Nay, howler, it’s not up for conversation.”

  “Stop calling me a howler. It’s derogatory and you’re a werewolf too,” Mercer gritted.

  Wolffey snorted. “I haven’t been a werewolf for years.”

  “How long?” Mercer went still, staring hard.

  “Nay. I’m not giving you a date to figure this out.” Not that he thought the Mission would go over files of persons reported dead, but he wasn’t going to risk someone on the Texas farm figuring it out and the alpha would go back to his betas and repeat what he knew.

  “You weren’t a baby when you were taken. You know too much about the Mission.”

  The accusation left Wolffey hotter than what he felt seconds earlier against Mercer. “Think of this as a favor. I’m helping you nary ruin your reputation with me. Open the gate so I can finish this.”

  Mercer eyed the strange tree. “I’m going with you.”

  “You smell like testosterone. You will draw them to us,” Wolffey said.

  Mercer gave him a smug, half smile. “Do we have the time to discuss this because there are a few things I want clear?”

  “This is the wrong time for a discussion,” Wolffey answered, pulling a tiny vial from his pocket. He offered it to the alpha.

  oOo

  Mercer took the tear dropped bottle from the assassin. The dark blue glass had poor visibility. He had no idea what was inside and the last bottle he uncorked had been Wolffey’s essence. What was he tying himself to now? "You don't have one for yourself?"

  Wolffey briefly looked at him before going
back to checking his gear. The purple rings in his eyes had retracted to thin lines. "The succubus world will affect you more than me.”

  The assassin spoke of other worlds and all his life, he'd only known the limitations of this one. Another world, with creatures no other shape shifter has ever seen. His animal side was surprisingly eager. He was ready for this experience; to note new smells and sounds and maybe food. His beast wanted new quarry.

  “You’re gay then?” Mercer asked. His heart quickened. They had kissed; it’d been chaste and far too quick, nothing to truly sever the tension between them. The truth of the matter was, everything inside him wanted to claim and finish what the assassin had started.

  Wolffey never looked up from the quiver and bow he was fussing with. “Nay. I’m a warrior first. I have nary a thought to spare towards the lesser attributes of nature.”

  At Mercer’s silence, Wolffey looked up. He tossed the bottle at the assassin’s feet. “I’m gay.” The words were empowering. “I won’t need this.”

  The purple rings in the assassin’s eyes flared, telling him exactly what he suspected. The younger man was interested, if the bite nearly eleven years ago wasn’t proof. He’d been about to mention it. He wanted the werewolf to know where he stood, but he knew the assassin would fight his inner desires.

  Wolffey pushed his arrow sack over his shoulder as he stood. His hips were weighted by a number of fist sized pouches, all shimmery. It was sad to see a werewolf with such a strong faerie imprint. The assassin was thinking hard, calculating his words. Mercer didn't doubt he was always this studious.

  “Can you manipulate the doorway using that tree?” the assassin asked.

  Mercer turned back to the tree. A foreboding energy emanated around the plant life. “Yes.”

  SEVENTEEN

  Searing flesh coated the air.

  “It’s okay to scream. I know this hurts,” Bohu said.

  Aire seethed. His skin burned hot with the device the master vampire held. It was circular and shaped like a flashlight, but the light was nothing man made. It burned with the power of the sunlight.

  With his body stretched on the board, arms over head and legs pulling at the hip joint, his body found no comfort. He was spread wide for the abuse. He fisted his hands, anger was still dominant. There was no fear in torture. He had been there far too many times.

  “Eventually, you will scream,” Bohu promised.

  The light burned into his gut, slow and meticulous. He gritted his teeth, but Bohu didn’t stop until the roar ripped from his lips. The vampire master pulled the light back. There was no instant relief. The deep burn pulsed.

  “Lotus gave me a large finder’s fee for the assassin. I didn’t bother telling him that Wolffey was sick and dying,” Bohu whispered close to his ear, leaning his weight on Aire’s injured shoulder. He sucked in air through his gritted teeth to keep from crying, but a whine escaped with a shallow breath. “You know what’s great?” He taunted. “Your assassin gave me a large fee just to ensure he would live for the next couple of days.”

  There was no time to think about his comment before the searing white light drove through Aire’s hip. He felt the skin and muscle peel back, rejecting the light. The pain rumbled through him and he arched, screaming again. The heat stopped, but not the throbbing ache. Sweat dripped in Aire’s eyes.

  When the pain cleared enough to think, he focused on those words. “Why would Wolffey come to you for help? He has no reason to trust you.”

  “Wolffey trusts no one, not even his shadow,” Bohu said, raising the device in his hand so the moonlight would reflect off it. “Desperation brought him to me and a little persuasion.”

  The forest trees swayed with the wind, but nothing more than birds witnessed his torment. The festival music was off and the humans were gone for the night. Somewhere in the night, the vampires waited, listening, but they didn’t approach. His mind spun around the assassin. His queen wanted the werewolf returned.

  Bohu walked around him, his finger tips pressing and probing the wounds. “Time to change tactics. If we do this too much more, you’ll have sun poisoning. Where would be the fun?”

  Aire refused to comment. The master vampire wanted him to inquire, maybe even beg to be let go. He’d do neither, but he did have to find a way out. Wolffey’s death would solve the treaty breech, but Sayen-ael wouldn’t let it go lightly. “Who is Lotus working for?”

  “You should be more concerned about yourself,” Bohu said.

  “I’ll be concerned when I truly feel threatened.” His voice was strained. He could barely unclamp his tight jaw to speak. He wasn’t in a position to taunt the master vampire.

  Bohu pressed his finger against the blackened skin on his shoulder, eliciting another scream. “Last time you came to my territory, you took something of mine.”

  “The assassin was never yours,” he spoke with a tongue too heavy and dry. Goddess, help him, but he felt the edges of his mind hedging darkness.

  “You think I’m talking about the assassin?” Bohu laughed. “Your werewolf was obeying orders. I have nothing personal against him, though Mayda doesn’t feel the same.” Something in the trees hissed in agreement. “I liked your previous king, Rufaro-ael. He never screwed around with Topsider business.”

  “No reason to drag the dead into this,” Aire said. Rufaro had been dead for centuries and though he’d tried many times drawing him from the realm of the dead; the king, his brother, never responded.

  There was no humor behind Bohu’s chuckle. “You’re right. Why bring the dead into this? We’ve been acquaintances for a long time. I have no desire to kill you.” Bohu’s promise held little merit.

  Sweat trickled down his temples into his hair, and along his skin into the severe burns, making them throb. He could feel how deep the wounds ran, straight to the core of the exposed muscle and nerves. He concentrated on his breathing and the world around him; hot wind, the sound of the brushing leaves, the smell of burnt charcoal and mixed incense. His body pressed into the table, wanting to become one with the sturdy boards that kept him stationary. The master vampire left his side and he turned his head to keep a visual.

  “Mayda, hold his head still,” Bohu ordered.

  The female vampire was at the table before he could blink. The sweet scent of nectarines and fresh tobacco surrounded him where her long, brunette hair brushed his face. Her nails pierced the skin under his jaw and at his crown. She hissed in warning when he jerked back. The leather enlaced with iron, bit into his skin giving him no space to maneuver from the straps holding him in place.

  Her pupils were blown wide. Her nostrils flared when she took in the scent of his blood. “Stay still or I’ll scalp you.”

  “She’s still angry that you took her toy,” Bohu answered outside his visual.

  Aire gritted his teeth, determined not to answer. Mayda took the silence as submission and smiled, showing her elongated canines. A sick thrill slide through the predator part of his psyche and down into his lower region. His breath hitched and she leaned in closer knowing the killer in him found attraction in the threat.

  “I’m all for killing you, but Bohu won’t hear of it,” she whispered in his ear. He held his breath, until he was sure he could breathe without another hitch of excitement.

  Bohu returned to the table’s edge with a thin forked utensil that gleamed in the lantern light. “She’s hoping your death would bring the moon child back. The assassin isn’t going to outrun Lotus.”

  The mention of Lotus snapped him back into focus. “There will be retaliation.”

  Bohu shrugged. “You won’t be in a position to fight when I’m done, but if you insist on it, I can turn you into something useful around here for a few days. It would be wiser; however, for you to return to the Hill and seek immediate medical attention.”

  Aire twisted his bound wrists and ankles seeking weakness in the wood, but it was the iron bits inside the leather that took his strength, making it impossible. He couldn�
��t fight against the one earth element that weakened his energy. Bohu waited patiently for him to tire.

  “Neither of us wants to be out here when day breaks so I suggest I retrieve what you stole from me,” Bohu said.

  Mayda adjusted his head at an angle to benefit the leader. Her tight hold could break his neck. Aire gritted his teeth, his body tensed waiting for the insertion.

  The forked tip of Bohu’s utensil pressed against his closed eyelid. “I will carve through your skin to get my Bug of Foresight.”

  Aire chuckled; the sound was raw. The master vampire wasn’t going to find the illusive and scarce tick-like insect behind his retina. He took the insect back to the Hill and burned it in witch fire.

  “What could you find humorous with my blade?” Bohu asked. His brows furrowed with suspicion.

  The Foresight Bug was a dangerous concept for anyone to be in control of, but his reasons for taking it didn’t come from Sayen-ael’s orders. His reasons were far more personal. He didn’t like people messing with his protégé.

  When he didn’t answer, Bohu smirked. “I’m going to wipe that smile off your face.”

  oOo

  The assassin stayed ahead of him, in the dim darkness. The light illuminating from the rock provided a dreary gold-red hue that resembled a flashlight shining through a heart muscle. Despite his heightened sense of danger, mating with the assassin was the only thought circling in his head. He immediately tried to shake the burning desire, but his animal instincts were dominated by this obsession. Never had thoughts on mating controlled his logic and sense of duty. If Hota was right about the Ghost Moon, then his hypersensitivity was in direct response to his Skin Walker heritage.

  “Are you okay?” Wolffey asked, breaking the silence. He was light on his feet; feline quick as if gravity hardly touched him.