Howl & Growl: A Paranormal Romance Boxed Set

by Various Authors

  Lhea’s stomach growled again and she forced a nut between her lips, the taste and texture so foreign and repulsive to her. Yet it came with memories of the days before the Mad King, of being vibrant and filled with such hope and vigor for life.

  She chewed it thoughtfully, before finally thanking him for her meal.

  He gave an appreciative nod and sat himself down across from the tiny faerie, his hands folded over his lap.

  “You are in need of some time to recuperate, I can tell,” he said to her gently, his voice so fae and soft, especially in contrast to that large, bulky man. “But time is of the essence, if you are feeling capable today, we could start going over the thing’s lair and prepare to save your friend, once and for all,” he declared so dramatically.

  She took another berry, pushing it to her lips thoughtfully as she looked to the side.

  Lhea wanted so badly to help, to free her friend. She’d do anything to save her.

  She had done everything to save her.

  And she’d failed. He was offering her a chance to redeem herself, to save the girl she cared most about in the world, and she idly nodded as she pushed another berry into her lips.

  “I understand,” she said softly.

  “Shall we meet with the others of my fellowship later today then? We can ask you about all you’ve seen and experienced. I understand it will not be an easy task for you, but we are anxious to move. Who knows what sort of depraved things that creature is doing to your friend!” he exclaimed.

  Lhea knew.

  He would feed from her. Drink from her veins, and pour poison back in its place.

  He would drain her and then still find more of a reserve within her.

  Purged of that darkness, her innocence restored, she felt a well of sorrow fill within her as she nodded once again.

  “I will do my best,” she pledged.

  ~~

  Being brought before the assemblage of curious beings was an awkward point for Lhea. Before her corruption at the hand of her Master, she’d been a flighty, mischievous faerie like so many others. She was never prone to staying still, let alone to coming before a gathering of such foreign people to give testimony.

  “Lhea, I would like you to meet our fellowship,” the elf said in his stern voice, “or at least, what there remains of it. We have suffered losses, and some remain on the frontlines of our efforts to purify the forest. But allow me to introduce Orodreth,” he said, waving to one human man, clad in heavy trench coat, with an assortment of bulging pockets and bags.

  “Greeting’s little one,” he remarked in another rough human voice that grated on her delicate ears, though it wasn’t so rough as the previous brutes.

  “Orodreth is a merchant from the human lands, he provides us much needed support in exchange for curiosities to astound the mortals in his homeland,” the elf explained.

  Lhea’s eyes danced between them, her mind still spinning with thoughts she didn’t wish to have. Wondering at what she could or should do.

  It was not an easy decision, especially as she was pulled nearer and nearer the light with each passing moment. Yet still, the idea of betraying him cut her deep.

  “Hello,” she said softly, her head dipping down in a mimicked showing of respect.

  “If the pretty lil’ lass needs any special implements, she need only ask,” Orodreth said with a big, toothy grin at the petite faerie. Lhea stared for a long moment before she stole her gaze away, those black tear drops still lingering beneath her eyes.

  “That’s quite fine, Orodreth,” said the elf, guiding Lhea along to the next member of the gathering. “This is lady Zephena, mistress of spiders, and a great asset to our cause.”

  The spindly, tall woman was shrouded in dark robes so that Lhea could see almost nothing of her but faint shadows even in the day light.

  “I once was Queen of the dark woods, until that thing drove me from my realm,” she said in an imperious voice, so full of bitterness and spite.

  She stared at the woman, and for a fleeting moment thought: what gave her the right to be a Queen of a forest she couldn’t control or hope to keep? And then that disappeared, replaced instead with sorrow and compassion for her loss.

  “Here we have Dilbor and Dilba, dwarvish twins from the glittering caverns,” the elf explained to Lhea, showing her the odd pair of misshapen beings. Whereas humans were great, lumbering brutes, these dwarves — the first she’d ever seen! — were like faerie folk who’d eaten themselves into great misshape and then glued ungainly hair to themselves to mimic the larger humans.

  “A pleasure ta meet’cha ma’am,” came their response in unison.

  It was gravelly and deep but held none of the charm that she longed for, even as she nodded to their greeting in silence.

  Lhea didn’t know how much longer she could handle the parade of saviors. Of those who would try to oust the Mad King from his world. They would soon be dead, and should she aid them, she would be the cause of it.

  Even filled with holy vigor, her darkness stripped from her, she understood that to be the truth. There was no defeating Him.

  “And then there is I, Balovo of the Golden Bough,” said the elf, giving her a deep bow. “Two of our other members are stalking the creature’s lands as we speak, and another, sadly, lays in eternal slumber for her bravery.”

  He guided her to a colourful mushroom seat at the center of their little gathering.

  “Please, tell us what you would of the dark creature’s lair,” he bid her.

  “What of its outlay?” asked Zephena.

  “Does he possess any items of great power or import?” asked Orodreth immediately after.

  “Hush, one at a time please,” Balovo insisted.

  Lhea’s hands went to her head, holding it to try to block out the sounds, the bombardment. She thought back to her Master’s lair, his home. She couldn’t remember in detail the layout. He’d kept her so disoriented during her stay. She remembered rooms, the stairway, but they weren’t connected in her mind. There was no continuity between one room and the next.

  She rocked back and forth as she tried to think, to sort through all of the things that she was supposed to say so willingly.

  Her goodness, that true desire to help Fillia had emerged once more, just as strong as it had the first time, when she’d agreed to be his to protect her sister fae.

  Yet she didn’t know that this coalition could or should save her. They’d be more likely to simply enrage him.

  And she knew not of any weakness he had.

  He was all powerful.

  “I don’t know,” she whimpered, shaking her head. “It’s all such a blur.”

  The mixed fellowship all exchanged worried glances.

  “Perhaps it’s too soon for the girl,” the merchant offered. “Maybe with some time, some recuperation, she’ll think of something to offer us…”

  “We have no time!” Zephena hissed out. “Tell us of that horrid lair! We need to end his reign immediately!”

  “Calm down!” Shouted Dilba and her brother. “She’s frazzled!”

  His lair, it was always shifting. She didn’t know what part of him or his magics controlled it, but never was it the same. She remembered that, yet when she looked up at them, she didn’t tell them. Couldn’t.

  And yet, it was more out of her desire to protect them than it was to save him.

  “There’s no way in,” she said with another shake of her head. “There’s no way to beat him.”

  The five of them looked about, troubled by her words.

  “We got in once before, when we rescued you,” the elf said to her steadily, but something about that topic made the others uncomfortable. Whatever they’d done to get in and rescue her had come at some great cost, it seemed.

  “But what about inside, does he have any… curious implements? Jewelry perhaps? Ancient pottery?” asked the merchant, his focus intensely upon her.

  It was as though the holy goodness she’d consumed had
further twisted her memories of her time within his lair, making it seem foggy and distant. Perhaps it was her way of protecting herself, that sweet torture clouded from her mind.

  “I don’t remember,” she whispered, as it was true.

  Even if she didn’t want to remember.

  Balovo came up and put a hand upon her dainty shoulder very lightly.

  “Very well. It has been a rough day. We will reconvene tomorrow to talk of doing this again perhaps, if Lhea is up for it,” he said, and receiving nods — albeit reluctantly in Zephena’s case — from the present fellowship members.

  “If you’ll come with me, I’ll get you a room of your own for your stay,” he said down to her, his stoic face as expressionless as ever.

  She shook her head though, looking up at him with those wide, innocent eyes.

  “If... if it’s all the same, I haven’t spent a night under the canopy of the stars in so long,” she said, her stomach twisting.

  “Very well,” he said smoothly. “But it is a long time before the sun sets again. I will give you some lodgings whether you choose to use them or not. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to them,” he stated, moving along the forest floor so smoothly.

  She didn’t push again, following after him in dumb silence, trying to wrap her head around what was happening to her. It was difficult to sort out her complicated thoughts and feelings, let alone put names to them.

  ~~

  Though she’d only lived with her Master’s corruption for a relatively short time, it was odd to go back to feeling the sun up on her delicate skin without the stinging, and only the warmth. The place of residence she was provided was a hollow nook in a tree, high enough that she could peek out over the forest canopy from the very top and see the sunset and twilight descend.

  The elven village slowed down from its daily tasks, the final work acts of the towns folk was to set free the large, glowing fireflies to hover about the village and light things up, before they settled into revelry and music.

  Yet Lhea no longer felt a part of their world. Of the joy in their hearts. Even as it reached out to her, stroking parts of herself that she’d forgotten existed, it somehow rang hollow and false.

  She stared for a long while, wondering if truly she would seek out the brute of a human. If she should. Yet she was Fillia’s best hope, wasn’t she?

  Her fingers worked over the wood of her temporary home, stroking it lovingly and wondering if one of those tainted insects would still be able to find her.

  But when the sun finally descended, she moved as if from a dream, headed towards the protection of the forest.

  Lhea’s wings carried her off through the trees, away from the heart of the village and its safety. It took her some time to escape that presence, that feeling of being watched over by its protectors. Yet when she finally did, a passing thought occurred to her: how would he know where to find her?

  She peered about anxiously, letting her wings fluttered slower as she descended to the grassy forest floor. Her thoughts began to wander, becoming more frantic as she pleaded with herself to return back to the sanctuary. To be the good fae and lead them on a heroic mission to save her friend.

  So lost in her revelry, she didn’t notice the approach of something dark and ominous.

  Yet when she finally became aware, she gave a startled gasp, for it was a great, towering timber wolf. Black and red, it ominously loomed there, watching her.

  Normally wolves were not a cause of concern for a faerie, for they could fly out of the beast’s way. Yet something about this one struck her as particularly… off.

  His colouring, of course. But more than that. His size. His shape. Just so many little particularities, as though it were a mockery of nature.

  She took a startled step back, tripping from a fallen piece of rotted wood.

  The wolf bounded towards her, or at least perhaps just seemed to. Its long legs moved quickly, carrying it in great strides until it came upon her, one paw on either side of her.

  As she laid there beneath his towering bulk, a low growl rumbled from the creature, its fangs bearing to her before it leaned down. A huff from its nose washed its warm air over her, across her dainty face and delicate wings.

  Though right within the grasp of her wolfen assailant, it opened its maw and leaned in, head tilted. Its long warm tongue dragged itself across her cheek, and the wolf gave a curious sound, somewhere between growl and whimper, as if relieved for her having shown up.

  She could sense the magic from within that beast, though she wasn’t entirely certain what to make of it. Humans didn’t have those powers. There was no way he could be the man who was to guide her back to the one she was saved from.

  Wrenched from.

  The two thoughts occurred simultaneously, a strange duality within her.

  “What do you want?” she whimpered.

  Those long, triangular ears of the wolf’s twitched, and he licked over her face some more, long torturous laps of that warm, saliva-slick muscle before he pulled back, and let his red, wolfen eyes bore into her.

  All at once that menacing presence dimmed a little however, and his ears tucked back before his low, growling voice rumbled out.

  “I am here to claim what is mine once again, my pet,” he said, and though that voice was so rocky and harsh, so ungraceful and rough, she could sense the familiar mind behind it. How could she not when she’d gotten to understand her Master’s insane mind so intimately?

  A part of her reached out, longing for him. For that.

  But a larger part quivered with fear, as if he was calling to a deeper part of her. Something more carnal and raw than she had the ability to feel. It was simply wrong.

  “No,” she whispered, shaking her head as the saliva dried on her pale, radiant cheek.

  That sleek, dark fur, so lupine, had a beastly quality to it, but the horror of such a powerful and terrifying creature was all too familiar all the same. Its thick fur brushed against her as he nuzzled against her slender neck, and he moved one paw up to pin down her arm beneath it.

  “Come with me, I will take you back as fast as the wind,” he instructed so harsh and authoritatively.

  Lhea trembled as she stared up at the wolf, her heart caught in her chest as she weighed his words.

  But she knew it was too late. Her decision had been made, and regardless of any second thoughts, of the fears that raged within her, she understood what she would do. She would accept the darkness, and flee to his lair.

  And somehow, some way, she’d save Fillia all on her own.

  From the direction of the village, a noise arose. A beautiful elven voice called out.

  “Lheeeaaa?!” and the glow of fireflies came with them, closer and closer.

  The great werewolf released her hand, but not before he gently clasped his sharp maw about her hand and wrist, guiding her up from the forest floor.

  “We must go,” he growled at her in haste. “Climb upon me,” he urged, lowering himself down so she might climb atop his immense, furry back more easily. “I can run faster than you can fly,” he urged.

  The sound of that search party of concerned elves grew ever closer, her name carried upon the cool night winds.

  And she had never been so sorry as she was, climbing atop his back, her frail arms wrapping about the thick, furry neck. Her tears were pure and innocent and real, no longer filled with the toxic sludge that had filled her veins and flesh.

  She wept, because she knew she was returning to a torturous existence, one of pain and sweet, delicious agony.

  But she would save Fillia this time.

  Her arms couldn’t quite fit right around the great wolfen form of her Master, but she clung onto his fur as he rose back up then quickly set off. Those broad paws of his carried them both over the forest floor with heavy thuds, and pretty soon she could hear the sharp cries of the elves.

  “A demon creature!” one cried, and let loose an arrow, the tip of which pierced the ground right wh
ere they would pass, if her Master hadn’t bounded to the side at just the right moment.

  He carried her at an impressive rate, and soon she was certain he would have them out of their arrow’s reach.

  She made soft little noises of fear, and yet somehow, she knew she was safe. That the wolf would see her through. She had to trust in that, her iridescent wings flattening against her back as they made their way through the forest.

  Still, her little heart beat rapidly in her chest, and part of her wanted to simply let go. To disappear.

  He’d given her no promises, no guarantees. Nothing except his reason for being there and his command for what she was to do.

  Yet she’d accepted both and climbed upon him, even as her heart knew different. Knew better. A light inside her burned, telling her he was evil and wrong and cruelly held her sister in thrall still despite his pledge.

  He carried her on through the dark of night, a lone wolf bounding through the woods as danger followed. A great looming creature that stood even larger than her Master’s werewolf form came in their way, an elven stag with antlers that loomed up high, but her Master was undaunted.

  With a snarl he lunged in, then retreated to the side in time to avoid the great beast’s antlers. He snapped in at the flank of the creature, drawing blood as Lhea clung to his fur, yet quickly had to dart back out as those great ivory weapons swept in their direction.

  It was a daring battle, the great stag all muscular sinew and hard weaponized hooves and antlers.

  She forced herself not to scream at the sight of the blood, begging her heart not to break from beneath her ribs. It was almost impossible, but even with that lightness of her heart once more, she remembered her training. The dark things she endured in silence, in absolute stillness, and she called upon those times to remain quiet.

  She knew the potential cost her screams would have.

  It would only draw more of her pursuers to them, draw more of them to their doom. For her Master’s victory was guaranteed.

  No matter how good the stag was at wielding those great, imposing antlers, her Master was able to dodge and weave out of the way, lunging in to nip and bleed the creature slowly. Death by a thousand cuts.