by Myles, Eden
When Hannah dropped by for a beer that Friday night, she said, “I ran into Allison earlier. She looked fit to be tied.”
“It’s been a rough week. Jolene’s been hounding the hell out of us,” Kevin said while he mixed four cocktails at once—a challenge, even for him, not that it bothered him. He liked having his skills put to the test.
“And yet you seem unflappable,” she commented with a big grin on her face.
Kevin couldn’t help but bite back a smile. “That’s me. Unflappable.”
“So what’s his name, big bro?”
“Jesus, you’re as bad as Jolene. Can’t a guy just be in a good mood for a change?”
“Uh-huh.” Hannah took a big gulp of beer, giving herself a foamy mustache that she quickly licked away. Then she leaned forward to run her fingers over his face, detecting his smile. “You’re not fooling anyone. Is he cute?”
Kevin decided to fess up. “Yes.”
“Did you ask if he’s married? Have you checked to make certain he’s really gay and not a raging psycho?”
“He’s not married. He really is gay. And I don’t think he’s a psycho, no. He’s also waiting for me at the end of the bar.”
“I’ll let you go, then.”
“Thanks, Hannah Banana.”
“But keep me posted!”
Kevin laughed, quickly mixed a Manhattan for Roman, two cherries, and moved to the end of the bar where his lover waited.
“Pretty girl,” Roman said.
“She’s my sister,” Kevin stated a little too stiffly. “I take care of her and she’s under my protection.”
“Don’t get your ruff up, Golden Eyes,” Roman said. “I have no interest in your human sister.”
“That’s good to know, since I have no interest in you taking any interest in Hannah.”
Roman arched an eyebrow. “Bit testy, yes?”
He set the drink down. “Just don’t like my family messed with.”
“Understandable,” Roman said, taking Kevin’s hand and bringing his knuckles briefly to his lips. It was a decidedly old-fashioned gesture, and it reminded Kevin of how old Roman really was. He thought again of those old pictures on the walls of his mansion. “I keep a cabin in the Poconos, and the pack and I are arranging a hunt this weekend. Care to join us?”
The idea excited him, but then a hundred werewolf movies flashed through his brain. “What kind of hunt, exactly? I mean, you don’t go after…?”
“Elk. Though a few more ambitious members of my pack have been known to hunt bear or the occasional moose.”
“No humans?” Kevin half-joked.
But Roman’s eyes were deadly serious. “That would be against pack ordinance. We never hunt human beings. It would be petty, foolish, and potentially dangerous on our part. We could easily expose our secret to human beings.”
That brought Kevin some relief, though he didn’t know if he was exactly ready to take on a bear or moose yet. “It sounds fun.” It would be good to get away from the city after this crazy week, spend some time with his new pack mates and learn what it meant to be a Pedigree werewolf. “I assume plenty of food and sex will follow.”
“Where we go, food and sex always follows.” Roman smirked, kissing his hand again.
* * *
Chapter Twelve
Roman said the cabin was one of his holdings, but Kevin wasn’t prepared for it when he saw it. Their small caravan of Jeeps and Range Rovers turned a final bend in the snaky mountain road, and the lodge became visible over a rise of tall pine trees. He expected a hunting cabin not unlike Jolene’s, but as Roman drove his Hummer up the final stretch of gravel, Kevin in the passenger seat and the other pack members following in vehicles a few feet behind, Kevin spotted what looked like one of the many posh new luxury lodges that dotted the landscape in this part of the Poconos.
The structure was huge and artistically rustic, geometrically designed to resemble a Swiss chalet, though obviously new. It could easily accommodate the thirteen members of the pack and then some. Kevin shook his head, realizing he would never get used to this fancy new lifestyle of city mansions and country lodges. It all felt like a dream, somehow.
The boys got out of the half dozen vehicles parked on the white gravel, laughing and calling to each other, pushing and shoving, ripping their T-shirts over their heads, more than ready for the first run of the weekend. Kevin got out and was immediately surrounded by Roman and Anya. Roman was pulling his tie off. Anya touched Kevin’s arm briefly. “We’ll settle in later. The pack is restless. Can you feel it, Kevin?”
“Yeah,” he said. Nervous energy surrounded the small group of naked men as they, one by one, went down on all fours and began shifting into their wolf forms. He noticed they did it differently than he. For Kevin, Roman and Anya, the shift was fluid, a part of their genetic makeup. They had been born werewolves, natural shapeshifters. But the betas were different, more like the werewolves that Kevin had seen in movies, and he flinched at the sight. Their muscles spasmed and their bones broke and re-mended as they assumed canine form, sleek, shining fur sprouting from every pore of their bodies, long, blood-streaked claws replacing fingernails, and long muzzles full of razor-sharp teeth ripping through their once-handsome faces. They grunted and snarled as the shift made their bodies twist in unnatural ways and reassemble themselves into a form he knew all too well.
Soon Kevin, Roman and Anya stood among a dozen nervously pacing wolves, heads low in submission and big, triangular ears laid flat, their huge, muscular bodies trembling with hunger and anticipation and foaming drool pouring from the corners of their mouths. A few snapped at each other as their bloodlust got the best of them.
Roman turned to Kevin and said, “After you.”
Excitement and the feel of pack—of family—made Kevin forget all about being naked in front of all these men. He quickly undressed and shifted fluidly into his wolf form. He was slightly larger than the betas, and his fur was a deep, rich auburn color. Roman and Anya were the last to shift, Roman into the black wolf with sun-bright yellow eyes that he remembered from his last visit to these mountains and Anya into a huge, all-white wolf. Both raced up to him and rubbed their sides against him and licked at his face and mouth. He licked them in return, licked inside Roman’s and Anya’s mouths as a way of acknowledging them as his alphas, than the whole pack took off running into the forest as if a secret signal had been given.
Roman took the lead and Anya brought up the rear. Kevin chose a place near the edges of the pack, not too close to any one of the wolves as he wasn’t sure which one was Fenrir and didn’t want to do something that might piss off the jealous beta. A wolf with reddish fur flanked him on one side and he felt a twinge of worry before recognizing the wolf’s scent as Jonah. Jonah barked encouragingly at him and Kevin answered happily, making a point of sticking close. At least he had one other wolf, beside Roman, on his side.
The pack cut through the forest like a knife, barking and yipping their happiness. They bounded over deadfalls, zipped across shallow creeks, and raced over the otherwise impenetrable mountain terrain. Kevin could smell no trace of humans—the forest surrounding the lodge was too pitted with cliffs, dangerous caverns, deadfalls, rocky inclines and thick, unmanageable forest. There was no way hunters, hikers or anyone on two legs could forge trails in such inhospitable land. Roman yipped at the pack, leading them on and telling them in the most primitive way possible that they should follow him, that he would protect them, lead them, provide for them.
Kevin had never been happier in his entire life. The scent of earth, sky and pack filled his senses to overflowing. He could smell a hundred different animals, a thousand different tracks, and were he alone, he might have tarried over them, but he was with his pack, and his pack led him on. He barked happily, enjoying the closeness and company of the others, his family.
It wasn’t long before he realized that Roman was following one scent in particular. Soon, the pack sprang from a cover of trees and con
verged on a large elk bearing a heavy, sprawling rack grazing on wildflowers in a nearby meadow. The elk bayed and took off into a panicked, cantering run through the trees, but the wolves easily gave chase.
Kevin snorted air in and out of his lungs as he endeavored to keep up with the others. He wasn’t used to such exertion, but he relished the challenge. As a lone wolf, he’d only hunted small, safe prey. Squirrels and chipmunk, the occasional opossum. This animal was huge, armed and dangerous, more than anything he would ever feel comfortable bringing down himself, but the pack was confident. Roman was confident. And together they made short work of it.
Roman reached it first, leaping upon its hindquarters and biting down, hobbling it. The elk screamed, but somehow managed to twist loose in a spray of blood and fur and veer off into a dark, tangled copse of trees. Roman landed gracefully, never losing sight of it. He barked sharply and raced off at an angle to the trees. A signal of some kind had been given, one Kevin didn’t quite understand. One half of the pack followed him while Anya took the lead on the other half and started a little slower through the foliage, hot on the trail of the wounded elk bleeding all over the forest floor.
They were planning on cutting off its escape routes, boxing it in, he realized. Kevin stopped on the periphery of the trees, trying to decide whom to follow, Roman or Anya. His first instinct was to follow Roman, but he thought that Anya and her small army of beta werewolves might need his help as well. But before he could make the decision, a huge wolf came out of nowhere and leaped upon him, its jaws slashing unexpectedly at his side. Kevin yelped in surprise and skirted the attacking wolf, receiving only one long gouge across his ribs by way of the wolf’s massive claws. But the wolf wasn’t done with him, and Kevin immediately spotted the danger.
The wolf was as big as he, with pale, silvery blond fur and ice blue eyes. Fenrir. It lowered its head and gave him a feral snarl. Kevin snarled back. Snorting, the blond wolf pissed against a nearby tree and kicked at some dirt. Kevin didn’t know how to respond and he knew his stance looked confused, weak.
Fenrir lashed out again. Kevin jumped back. He knew Roman’s lieutenant disliked him, but he had no idea what he had done to deserve this. He didn’t know what to do, so he backed away slowly, snarling, head low and teeth bared. He was bleeding but he didn’t yet feel the pain. He was too pumped up on adrenaline and fear.
The wolf took a step toward him, ears pricked forward in an offensive gesture, lips stretched back in what was most definitely a diabolical human grin. He snarled a warning, a low, dangerous belly growl that clearly meant you’re dead meat. Kevin barked and snapped at his attacker, hoping to warn him back, to frighten him, but it was obvious that Fenrir was sensing his lack of confidence and wasn’t impressed. He just made a low huffing noise that almost sounded like wolf laughter.
Fenrir was challenging him. What was he going to do? Fight Fenrir? He’d never fought a werewolf before. His first thought was to shift back to human and pick up a weapon—a long stick or big stone—but he wasn’t sure that Fenrir wouldn’t leap upon his more vulnerable human body. Run, he thought. You have to run! Before Fenrir could attack again, he acted upon the impulse and took off running into the woods.
He could hear the others not far off. Fenrir gave chase, but though they were about the same size, Fenrir was more muscular, and a little heavier than Kevin. Kevin managed to stay safely ahead of the other wolf until they both broke out into a clearing.
The pack had the elk surrounded. Wounded, it was rushing them, head low and antlers pointing like swords at its hunters as each of the wolves tried to get close enough to kill it. Kevin checked behind him. Fenrir was glaring at him from the safety of the woods. He knew Fenrir wouldn’t do anything so stupid as to attack him in full sight of the others, but he also knew he had to prove himself to Fenrir. He had to show the other werewolf that he was no pushover. Gaining allies wouldn’t hurt, either. Otherwise, Fenrir would just bully him from this day forward.
Kevin turned to observe the wounded elk. It was slowly tiring, its breath coming in labored gasps. It was bleeding all over the place. A part of Kevin felt a pang of pity and regret; it was a beautiful animal, and he liked animals very much, but he knew what needed to be done. He knew what the pack needed—his family. Death now would be a mercy.
Taking a running leap, Kevin lunged at the elk when it turned its head away from him, snapping his teeth around its windpipe. It was like trying to take down a mountain, and he wasn’t sure how he would hold on as the elk bucked and fought him to its last breath, but somehow he managed it. The animal brayed and tossed its head to dislodge him, but he hung on. For the pack. For his family. He crunched vertebrae, managing to break its neck instantly. The elk went down, dead, and the others moved in to dismember it.
Roman snarled, warning the others back. As the other wolves cringed and whined, he turned to Kevin and licked the blood off Kevin’s muzzle. Kevin stood over the carcass, admiring his work but also giving thanks to the forest and the elk for its meat. Roman ripped off a chunk of the hindquarters and offered it to Kevin as a trophy before tearing off a piece of meat for himself and Anya. After that, the others were allowed to feed.
The pack consumed the elk, meat, fur, bones and all. Nothing of the animal remained but its antlers to pay testament to how it had died. Their bellies full, and their spirits full of a languid contentment, Roman made love to Kevin for the entertainment of the pack—first as wolves, then as men. The others looked on, grunting and rolling in the dirt and leaf litter, or playing or mating amongst themselves. Only Fenrir remained apart, watching him from the safety of the trees, his eyes simmering with a dark promise of trouble to come.
* * *
Chapter Thirteen
“Sugar, did you see anything strange at the cabin this weekend?” Jolene asked the following Monday. She was several hours late, so Kevin had opened the Barracuda without her.
He stood up from the dishwasher, his arms full of glasses, and looked at her standing in the doorway. The question had thrown him off guard and for a moment he wasn’t sure what to say. He hadn’t actually spent any amount of time at Jolene’s cabin this past weekend. After the hunt, he and the pack had retired to Roman’s lodge. They’d spent the rest of the weekend hunting, partying and making love. “I didn’t notice anything. Why?”
“Are you certain?”
He thought about lying outright, then decided against it. He’d never been a very convincing liar. “I didn’t stay at the cabin. I was with someone,” he said as he started stacking clean dishes. “We spent most of the weekend either at his place, or camping. What happened at the cabin?”
She waved it away. “Nothing dramatic. Someone just painted graffiti on the door, is all.”
Kevin gritted his teeth. “Shit. Was anything taken?”
“That’s why I’m late today. I went up to check this morning, but everything looks in order. So you didn’t see anybody suspicious creeping around?”
“No. What kind of graffiti?”
“Just one spray-painted word. Tyr. What do you think it means?”
Kevin started loading the dishwasher with the next set of dirty glasses. “I have no idea, but I’ll be happy to look it up for you.” Jolene was less than web-savvy.
“Thanks, sugar.” She kissed him on the cheek and ran a hand through his spiky auburn hair. “And no worries about not being there. I don’t expect you to babysit the cabin or anything. Just thought you might have a clue as to what’s going on.”
After he got the dishwasher going, Kevin moved out of the pantry and back behind the bar. The club was filling up fast so he knew he didn’t have much time before the evening rush. He pulled his phone out and did a quick online search for Tyr—whatever that was. Nothing came up at first, and he thought maybe it was gang-related, or someone who just couldn’t spell properly, but after Googling it for a few minutes, he finally got a hit.
Tyr, it turned out, was one of the many Norse gods, a son of Odin. He was also on
e-handed because during a great conflict with Fenrir, the wolf god had bitten his hand off.
* * *
Chapter Fourteen
By the time two a.m. rolled around and his shift ended, Kevin was tired, wired and feeling on edge. He’d mixed up more than a few drink orders that night, and he’d managed to break a whole tray of glasses, which he almost never did. Hannah said he was definitely off his game as she sat at the end of the bar and nursed a rum and coke. Kevin was apt to agree; he just wanted to go home and climb into bed. Maybe a good sleep would clear his head, help him think clearly. He kept thinking about the warning that Fenrir had sent him, because that’s exactly what it was.
A part of him thought about confiding in Roman. Roman was their leader, their alpha. During his time in the mountains, Kevin had learned much about the werewolf lifestyle, and Roman said the alpha was responsible for keeping the peace. He settled disputes among the pack members and generally acted as judge and jury—sometimes even executioner, if a crime warranted it.
But Kevin quickly dismissed the idea. He didn’t need Roman fighting his battles for him. If what Roman was saying about Kevin being a Pedigree was true, then Kevin was stronger than Fenrir, even if he was more inexperienced. The last thing he needed was Fenrir knowing that Kevin was afraid of him. If it came down to a confrontation between himself and Fenrir, Kevin would simply need to man up.
“Sugar, would you mind closing up?” Jolene asked at a quarter to two in the morning. “That drive up to the Poconos this morning left me plum tuckered out. I need some beauty sleep!”
Kevin grinned, amused by how Jolene could turn her sweet, Southern-fried dialect on and off, depending on whether she needed a favor or not. Not that he minded, since he owed her one for letting Fenrir deface her cabin. “No problem. Have a good night!”
