by R. J. Blain
My mate obeyed, falling to her knees at my side. I stared at her dully, exhaustion settling over me as my fear made way for relief.
“Richard,” she said, touching my cheek. She ducked her head down to whisper in my ear, too soft for my parents to hear, “You’re going to die for this.”
Few men looked me in the eye and fewer women dared. Nicolina met my gaze without flinching, and I basked in the heat of her anger. She cupped my face in her hands, ducked her head, and pressed her lips to mine, startling a gasp out of me. Taking advantage of my surprise, she pulled me closer.
When she was finished with me, I struggled to catch my breath, burning from her touch. Her cheeks were flushed. Enthralled by her wide eyes and parted lips, I lifted my hand to brush her hair away from her face.
She kissed me again, and I surrendered. Where she led, I would follow. My mate left me trembling in her wake. Pulling away from me, she trailed her thumb over my lower lip, her eyes narrowing. “I expect better when you’re in your prime, babe.”
She was going to murder me, and I’d let her.
“Give him time to heal,” my father soothed. “Had he been any younger, he would have died.”
Nicolina faked a sniffle, stroking my cheek to run her hands through my hair. Shivering, I closed my eyes and savored the feel of her fingers on my skin. “Mine,” she declared, mimicking the way I warned away the other wolves.
I didn’t remember uttering my claim on my brother around her, but it didn’t matter. I was hers for the taking.
My mother waited until the dawn to begin severing me from my wolves. While the passage of time helped, my neck hadn’t healed, not enough for me to fend her off when she forced me to change to my wolf.
I fought her, which only made it easier for her to break the bonds tying me to Sasha. With her hand twisting the scruff of my neck and her knee driven into my side, my mother held me as I writhed in the aftermath of the unwanted transformation.
The gaping wound where my youngest puppy had lingered within me burned, searing through my head. The shock of the severance rippled through the pack, and the rage of my wolves lashed into me. I staggered under the emotions of so many clawing away at me.
My father held my mate in an iron grip, his arm wrapped around her throat while the other pinned her arms to her side. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. He won’t die, not from that.”
My mate’s scent was thick with horror and fear. “What are you doing to him?”
My mother bent down and kissed the tip of my nose. Smiling, she demanded, “Change.”
Once again, before I could recover from the agony of my bones snapping and reforging into a new shape, my mother clawed at the ties binding me to my pack and used her influence as my blood relative. After Sasha, she severed me from Jean, another one of my puppies.
Before the bond snapped, my puppy’s pain whipped at me. When my mother erased all trace of his presence, I howled my anguish.
“Stop it!” my mate shrieked. She fought my father’s hold on her, twisting until she sank her teeth into his arm. Yipping in pain and surprise, my father struggled with my Nicolina.
Her fury washed over me, and I snarled.
My mother forced the change on me again, stripping me of the strength I needed to help my mate.
Nicolina’s eyes blazed, and she freed herself from my father’s hold long enough to snatch my phone out of her pocket and fling it at my mother. My mother caught it, slamming the device onto the ground, where it shattered into scrap metal and shards of broken glass.
“Control her,” my mother snapped. “Hit her until she stops fighting you, but don’t kill her. I want to feed her to his wolf when I have finished with him.”
It took one backhanded strike to send my mate sprawling to the floor. She landed hard and stilled, her eyes closed. My wolf’s fury spiked, and as I took his form, my mother once again took advantage of the stunning effects of the transformation to sever me from another of my wolves.
Satisfied my mate would no longer fight him, my father stepped forward, crouching nearby, watching me with wolf-touched eyes.
When I snapped my teeth at my parents, lunging in the direction of my helpless mate, my mother rammed her knee into my neck. Agony flared before the sickening numbness of paralysis once again spread through me. I slumped to the floor.
She stole two more of my wolves, and the need for blood and violence crept in. I growled, low and long, resisting my mother’s demand I take on my other shape, the frail, human body I had never wanted.
“You will change,” she ordered, and her wolf smothered my will.
The transformation took longer, and by the time I was finished, my blood pooled around me. A shudder rippled through me.
Instead of picking off my wolves one at a time or in pairs, she carved them from me in large swathes. Four died to me in her first attempt, and five more followed in their wake. More still fell to her until only memories and faint echoes of what had once been remained. With the loss of each wolf, my bonds with the rest weakened until all I could feel of them was faint anger and fear.
“Only a few more times, my puppy. I just have to finish cutting out the infection,” my mother said, running her hand over my head. When she pulled her hand away, her fingers were stained red. “It’ll stop hurting soon. Stop fighting. This is for your own good. When they’re gone, I’ll allow your mate to soothe you. She’ll feed you.”
When my broken, human body crumbled and made way for the wolf, all that remained was rage, need, pain, and hunger. As the ties that bound me withered and snapped, I was freed from all constraints and boundaries. I rose to my paws, my hackles rising. I breathed in deep.
The rich scent of human blood around me fueled my need to feast. I bared my teeth. Hunting wolves made no noise. My nose recognized my mother’s scent, but she wore a human’s skin.
Prey. Humans were prey.
I considered her, once again breathing her scent in. Beneath the sweet aroma of her delight was the sour stench of sickness. I lowered my head, shaking out my fur. Droplets of red sprayed from me, splashing onto my mother’s face.
“Yes,” she whispered to me. “Throw aside those interlopers. You’re part of my pack, not theirs.”
Pack? I had no need for a pack. What use were other wolves when they could not hunt as I could hunt, when they could not run as I could run?
All that mattered was my thirst, my hunger, and the need to den for the winter.
My mother stroked her fingers down the length of my nose, untangling me from the leeches clinging to me, silencing the wailing nuisances in my head. Her delight and satisfaction strengthened, overwhelming the richness of the fresh-spilled blood.
“Now you’re mine,” she whispered.
I belonged to the wild places of the world, to the moon, and to my desires. The will of a weak, pathetic human who believed she could wear a wolf’s skin could never control me. I could smell her jubilation at her perceived victory.
When she tried to bind me to her, her magic calling to my blood, I turned on her. My fangs sank deep in her throat, and with a shake of my head, I broke her as she had tried to break me.
Wolves did not eat sick prey. A shrill cry distracted me from my prey.
Another human. Disgust and loathing surged through me. They were so easily damaged, unable to withstand my claws and teeth. Like the other, the male was diseased, unfit for food, unfit for anything. The sickness wouldn’t spread; I would eradicate it before it infected the healthy prey.
I tore at the humans until the stench of their deaths filled my lungs with my every breath.
Leaving their corpses for the scavengers, I prowled.
The next human I found was younger, lying still. Easy prey. I drew in her scent, and her sweetness and the faint spice of a wolf stirred a different hunger. Cocking my head to the side, I considered her. She was smaller than the other humans I had hunted. Young, but adult.
Humans were fragile things, but I would not den in a place
tainted with sickness. I considered my prey. Like the other humans, she covered her frail flesh in fake fur.
I sank my teeth into her fake fur, dragging the female away from the diseased so she would not be sickened by them. Later, once I found a place to den for the winter, I would decide what I would do with the prey I had captured and let live.
Steep slopes and thick forests enveloped me, and among the roots of an ancient tree, I denned. The gap between ground and wood was large enough for me and the human I had claimed as my prey. I would dig it out and make it larger, suitable for a mate and our puppies. I dragged the female into the depths, kicking leaves over her until she was buried except for her neck and head. The debris masked her scent, hiding her from those who would try to take my captured human from me. Her mane tangled around her.
She slept, and I listened to her breathing. I drew my tongue over her exposed throat, tasting her sweat.
The human female was sweet, a treat to be savored and not so readily discarded or devoured. I drew in her scent, and rubbing my muzzle against her, I marked her as mine.
If the sickness had spread to her, I couldn’t detect it, not yet.
Satisfied, I wormed my way to the entry of my den and dug, kicking out the unwanted dirt and leaves, expanding my lair. I nosed the dirt in place to reinforce the way in and secure it from other predators. When I had enough space to curl up without disturbing my human, I hunted.
The forest was rich with prey. Mice scattered, and the ones too slow to escape me crunched between my teeth. For my human, I caught a rabbit, which I carried back to our den. I crawled into the space, rolling in the dirt to dull the silver of my coat.
My human was awake, huddled in the darkest corner of the den, her dark eyes white-rimmed. Her fear soured the air. Slinking forward, I lowered my head and offered her my gift. I warbled, nosing the rabbit to her.
The young always needed encouragement. When my human didn’t move, I pushed my gift closer, perking my ears forward.
“Richard?” the female asked, her voice tentative.
I tilted my head to the side, uncertain of the significance of her noises. She sounded pleased, soft and soothing. I shunted my gift onto her lap, thrusting my head against her chest, breathing in her scent.
Satisfied I could not detect any illness on her, I nosed at her throat, forcing her chin up. She trembled at my touch. Humans were fragile and delicate, so I took great care with my fangs, pressing my teeth against her soft flesh without piercing her. She gasped and froze, submitting as was proper. Releasing her, I pressed my paw against her, pushing her down to the ground.
My human’s obedience pleased me. Seizing her chin between my teeth, I nipped her, once again taking care not to cut through her thin, furless skin. She trembled beneath me. Pinning her in place with my paw, I settled in beside her, resting my nose on her brow, tilting my head so I could guard the entry of our den.
The young female human was mine to do with as I pleased. The other wolves wouldn’t have her, and if they tried to invade my territory, I would destroy them. Satisfied with my decision, I relaxed, breathing in the female’s scent as I made myself comfortable to sleep until it was time to hunt again.
My human refused to eat. The rabbit remained untouched, its meat fouling as the hours stretched on. I carried it off, leaving it for the scavengers who did not care if their meat was fresh. While the stench of sickness didn’t cling to my human, her refusal to eat my gift puzzled me.
When I returned to our den, my human had approached the entry, her eyes focusing on me as I returned. Growling, I warned her back inside. When she defied me, I snapped my teeth at the soft flesh of her throat.
She squeaked, scrambling backwards, tumbling down the slope into our den. I pursued her, softening my growls to a low rumble. I pounced, trapping her beneath me, my paws on her shoulders. I snapped my teeth again in rebuke. Her scent sharpened with a blend of rage and fear.
As I would with a puppy, I scraped my teeth on her throat in reassurance. She squeaked again, her breathing quickening. I ran my nose down her throat to her shoulder, rubbing briskly to soothe where I had nipped her. When she settled, ceasing to fight me, I groomed where her fake fur didn’t cover her, cleaning away the dirt and the leaves.
Her scent changed, her fear easing though the sharp bite of her anger remained. She squirmed when I licked her mane away from her ears. She gasped and made a soft sound.
“Richard, stop that!” she begged, wiggling beneath me. I seized her ear between my teeth and gave a gentle tug before puzzling over how to groom her mane. When I licked the long fur, it refused to obey my will and smooth as I desired. Twigs and leaves thwarted my efforts, and I picked them out with my fangs as I would hunt down fleas in my fur.
“Richard!” my human protested, and despite my pinning her, she pawed at me, tugging at my fur. Huffing, I nipped her neck to quiet her. My human gasped, but she obediently quieted. When my tongue wasn’t enough to tame her mane, I dragged my teeth through it. Turning my ears back at the mats, I huffed my displeasure.
Releasing my human, I drove her deeper into our den. She retreated as I desired, watching me with wide eyes.
She voiced a single growl at me, pawing at her mane. “You tangled it, you freak.”
While I recognized that she was complaining, I was uncertain of why she was upset with my grooming of her. I watched her as she worked at her mane, her scent devoid of any fear although her annoyance strengthened.
My human sighed. “I guess I should be happy you haven’t eaten me yet.”
I was puzzled, wondering why she thought I would eat her when I shared my den with her. I huffed, shaking out my fur at the silliness of puppies. Fully grown, but not yet wise in the ways of the wild.
I would teach her, in time.
A noise outside of my den sent me scrambling to the entry, ears pinned back. I breathed in, and the spiced scent of male wolves taunted my nose. I flattened to the ground, baring my teeth in a silent snarl. They drew closer to my den.
I had captured my human. She was mine. I could smell the need for the hunt and anger in the wolves drawing closer. The stench of old, diseased blood filled the air, matching the scent of the humans I had slaughtered so they would not spread their illness.
If they approached my den, they might infect my human and taint her. Launching out of my den, I snarled, prepared to fight to the death to protect my den, my human, and my territory.
An entire pack of wolves had come hunting in my territory, and they had brought humans with them. I lowered my head to protect my throat, snarling as they drew close, watching them ghost through the trees in the twilight haze. They were quiet, ignoring my warnings to circle around me. I positioned myself over the entry to my den, flattened my ears back, and snapped my teeth.
All but a few were small wolves, beneath me in my prime. Their coats varied, betraying them as my kind, though none of them shared my silver.
To protect my den, I had to wait for them to advance. If they stayed away, I would let them go, so long as they respected my territory and didn’t approach my human. I barked once in warning before voicing a rumbling growl.
“Holy Christ, he’s huge,” a human said. A male. He stepped forward, standing fearlessly among the wolves. He carried something in his hand, a black box with silver prongs. “Is this the one we’re after?”
Two large wolves, almost my equals in size, flanked the human. One had white fur frosted in red with black markings. The other was red with white tail, ears, and paws, with a single black stripe running down his back. They watched me with their ears pinned back and their teeth bared.
The pale wolf’s rage singed my nose, and my fury spiked. I snapped my teeth, retreating to cover the entry to my den.
My human slinked to me, pawing at my flank and taking hold of my fur. I couldn’t turn my head to rebuke her for her approach, not without the risk of the wolves attacking us. I growled a warning, but my human ignored me, slithering her way until she spraw
led across my back, poking her head out of the den.
“Oh!” She made her squeaking sound, her scent sweetening with her surprise and pleasure.
The bite of rage in the air dissipated, and new aromas filled my nose, ranging from surprise, anxiety, and that of a wolf’s joy.
“Richard,” my human said, her tone demanding. She pawed at my neck, tugging my fur.
Another human joined the first, holding out his hand. I recognized the gesture as a signal to wait. The wolves kept still and quiet, their gaze focused on me.
“Are you okay, Nicolina?” he demanded.
I snarled at the male’s words, that he dared to address my human without my leave.
“I’m okay,” my human replied. She wrapped her arms around my neck, leaning her weight on me. “Richard.”
My human was scolding me. Astonished, I twisted around and snapped my teeth at her.
She slapped my nose. “No. I’ve about had it with you, Richard.”
“Are you insane?” the first human male blurted, clutching his black box.
I meant to lunge at the human for daring to snap at my female, but she tightened her hold on my throat and wouldn’t let go. “Richard, stop!”
“Step back slowly,” the second male ordered, retreating a pace. “Nicolina, has he hurt you?”
“No,” my human replied.
“Has he bitten you at all?”
I dug at the ground with a paw, shredding the loose moss with my claws.
“He nipped me a few times when I didn’t do what he wanted exactly how he wanted me to do it,” my human replied, her scent sharpening with her annoyance. “He didn’t draw any blood. He chewed on my hair.” She paused, lifting her paw to her mane. “Argh!”
“How did he nip you? Where?” the second male insisted.
“He seems to think my neck, shoulders, chin, and ears are his personal buffet. Whatever was closest to his teeth at the time, I guess. Anywhere bare. He didn’t bite at my clothes. Otherwise, he hasn’t seemed all that picky.”
