by Stacey Mewse
Varulv stood over her, waiting for her to lift her head. When she finally recovered enough to attempt to right herself, he took a step back and watched her struggle. She visibly cringed away from him when she finally managed to lift her head and was confronted with the sight of his throbbing erection bobbing just inches from her face. She clamped her mouth closed and made muffled sounds of panic, which bought a laugh from her tormentor.
‘Don’t worry’ He cooed ‘I’m not going to force it into you… Just yet.’
The tears running down her face flowed more freely and she leant back in an effort to get away from him. He bent forward to force her to look at him, and when she closed her eyes he punched her hard in the belly. She lurched forward with a gasp, and the chains around her wrists yanked her to a painful halt.
Varulv laughed, a cruel sound that echoed around them both and bought a whimper from the girl at his mercy. That turned him on even more and he couldn’t help but grab at his throbbing penis, kneading it roughly between his fingers as he lent forward and grabbed her head with his free hand. Twisting his fingers into her hair he pulled her head back and licked at the tears on her cheeks, moaning and laughing at her distress. She tried desperately to squirm away from him but he would not let her. He gripped more tightly and a burning pain seared through her scalp as she tore out a chunk of hair. Varulv withdrew his hand and let go of his cock, looking at the matt of bloodied hair in his hand and smiling almost warmly. The first piece to come off… Such a tiny, insignificant part of her, but he had removed it. He lifted the hair to his face and sniffed at it deeply, groaning in delight at the thought of other injuries to come.
Holly shrank back against the pole until it dug painfully into her back, watching wide-eyed as he licked at the blood on her hair in his hand.
‘You’ve – you’ve got some kind of problem!’ She croaked through chest heaving sobs. She was terrified but she was full of rage, fear begets anger.
Varulv carelessly dropped the mess of bleached blonde hair to the floor and smirked down at her. ‘I think you’ll find you are the one who’s going to have a problem my love.’
With that he stepped back and held out his hand for her to see. It was smeared with her blood and held out with his palm facing her and his fingers fanned. Staring in confusion she watched as he focused on this extended limb and his face darkened. Perplexed and terrified she could do nothing but stare as something horrific began to happen. Before their eyes his fingers began to warp, stretching and flexing in a cacophony of cracking sounds. His palm bulged and flexed, stretching and growing as thick black callouses began to form on his fingers and the heel of his hand. Holly’s eyes widened and a scream tore from her as Varulv began to laugh. His nails grew slowly, pushing upwards and into cruel looking claws. The change ended once his hand was a disfigured, clawed monstrosity, but she was too terrified to notice. Screaming again and again she thrust herself backwards and tried desperately to free herself. Fumbling with her bonds with feeble fingers she saw him advance but could do nothing to stop him. Lunging forward with his clawed hand he sliced into her cheek, leaving four deep scores in the soft flesh there. One of his claws raked into the corner of her mouth and left her with a crooked looking smile carved into one side of her previously pretty face. He roared with laughter and leant in to kiss her savagely. As he moved she saw his mouth distort, and though she could not clearly see what was happening she soon felt it. Within his wicked mouth his teeth had grown and shifted, his canines had grown into enormous fangs that ripped into her tattered lips as he kissed her savagely. She tried to scream but he bit down hard on her tongue, and nothing but a gurgle escaped her as blood squirted from the corner of her mouth.
That drove Varulv wild and he sucked at her wounds, moaning and groaning as her blood filled his mouth and she struggled beneath him. As he descended deeper into his madness his body began to morph against his will, his other hand changing as he clawed at her helpless body. In a distant part of his mind he wanted to draw back and reign himself in, but he could not do it. His lusts were ruling his mind and her helpless body was his to play with.
As he drew back to examine the damage he had thus far done she screamed again, blood trickling down her chin and her thin body covered in puncture marks from his roaming claws.
Varulv lunged at her again, his body changing more and more with every passing second. As his talons pressed painfully into the naked flesh of her thighs something awful beyond words began to happen. She tried desperately to get away, seeing the bulging and flexing in his belly and groin but she could not. He smiled a deranged smile as his own fangs cut into his lips and his penis began a horrific transformation. He knew that there was nothing that drove fear into them more and he loved it. Grabbing her round the throat with one deformed, talon-laden hand he shoved her back hard. Guiding himself towards her exposed vagina, sneering and snarling as she cried and screamed…
There was no escape…
*****
In the room upstairs Audra stirred. Her eyes flickering slowly open as a distant sound disturbed her peaceful sleep. Slowly lifting her head from the pillow she sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Smiling to herself she looked down at her naked body and ran a hand over her belly. Something was different… She felt warmer there.
Happy realization dawned on her as she sat alone in the dank room. She was with child. Conception was a certainty when sex was between two of her kind and the female was in heat, they were extremely efficient at procreation. The only way she could not have fallen pregnant would have been if she had given birth within the last five years. That was a safety feature in werewolf hardwiring; to force mothers to properly raise their elder pup before tackling the rearing of another.
She Smiled to herself and continued to gently run her hands over her naked stomach. It was exactly what she had wanted, this was her ticket to power and infamy and with a wolf as handsome and old as Varulv. She had no doubt that she loved him, she was certain the feeling was true despite the strength of her hormones. She was utterly taken in by everything about him, despite his murderous tendencies. She somehow felt she would be safe from his more vicious side…. But then, where was he?
Suddenly feeling her solitude she looked about and a slight scowl marred her pretty features. Had he taken off? She sniffed at the air; no he had not for his scent was still strong and lingering. As her mind fell to wondering what he was up to she heard a distant scream and suddenly it flooded back to her. She shuddered but did not move, and she felt no pity for the whore in his clutches. He needed his release, and who was she to get involved in a ritual he had practiced for hundreds of years? It was not her place.
Completely in the grip of a quiet kind of madness that dulled her senses, Audra rose from the bed and moved to the door. She knew she had no clothes but felt that she might fit into the prostitute’s meagre outfit. Running her hands through her hair she pushed it behind her ears, and slowly opened the creaky old door. The hallway was much cooler than the bedroom and a wave of goose bumps instantly erupted across her naked skin. Crossing her arms over her chest she leant out of the doorway and sniffed delicately. Why was it so cold?
The quiet sound of a careful footfall hit her ears and suddenly she knew. Inhaling deeply she clearly smelled the scent of her pack beta’s. With wide eyes she ducked back into the bedroom and carefully pulled the door to. She left it open slightly to enable her to hear their approach more clearly and silently crossed the room to the bedside drawers. She could hear quiet footsteps as she sifted through the drawers in a desperate search for clothes. She dared not change so soon after conception, but she knew she needed clothing to make a quick escape. If she was naked she’d be stopped and that risked them finding her. Full of panic and with shaky hands she tugged open the bottom drawer and finally found what she was looking for. Inside was a crumpled pair of jeans and a plain, wrinkled muddy brown t-shirt. She did not bother to look for any underwear, knowing it would be second hand if she did fi
nd any. Instead she quickly tugged on the jeans and pulled the t-shirt over her head. Knowing that she would have to go without shoes she turned towards the door and gasped.
In the doorway stood the familiar form of Finnlay, his gaze fixed intently on her in the darkness. Lifting one finger to his lips he quietly hissed ‘shhh.’
Chapter 38
Mason and Tobias approached the rundown old townhouse cautiously. The atmosphere was thick with fear emanating from the building, and the tension clung to them as they moved ever closer. Tobias’ nose had led them to the ominous looking building quickly, for the scent trail had been fresh and pungent. Mason had followed him closely, but in the shadow of the place they both slowed to a crawl. They had hesitated for a moment, but when the muffled sound of a scream echoed from the crumbling old building they sprang into action. Not waiting for the others, they rushed up to the doorway and barged through it. The doorframe was so rotten that the lock tore clean off the wood. Luckily the rotten nature of the wood muffled the sound of the door as it made contact with the wall.
Before they could register that they had company, Finnlay and Matthew were right behind them in the doorway. They disappeared into the gloom of the building just in time for Eve and Hunter to see Matthew’s tail vanish. Hunter broke into a jog and Eve sped into a run, tearing into the building before him. By the time he reached the doorway he could barely see Finnlay melting into the darkness as he crept up the staircase. The others all stood in the dank hallway, Matthew’s nostrils twitching as the others glared expectantly about them. They were waiting for him to pick out the freshest scent trial, which he managed extraordinarily quickly. The old building was an amalgam of smells, a deliberate ploy by Varulv to confuse any wolf who might follow him.
Somehow in the heady mixture of rotting wood, thick perfume, damp and rotten rubbish Matthew managed to pinpoint Varulv’s location. Turning his lupine eyes to his beta’s he whimpered quietly. Skulking to the side of the stairway he nudged at the door there and looked back to Tobias.
The larger male werewolf nodded his hulking head and looked Hunter sternly in the eyes. He then moved off towards the door and waited beside Matthew for Hunter to open it.
Hunter looked down at Eve as he passed her, she stared blankly back up at him. Her hackles were beginning to rise in anticipation of the fight to come, and her human mind was deeply buried within her lupine one. She did not even wag her tail once as he passed her by, but he understood.
Reaching out in the gloom he very carefully pulled on the door handle and the door began to inch open. Unconsciously holding his breath he was as slow and silent as the old wood allowed him to be. When the door was finally open it seemed to have taken an age for the action to have been completed. Breathing shallowly he glanced down at Tobias, who firmly nudged him in the side with his nose. He was to go down first… That was the plan, to shock the ancient wolf enough to gain the upper hand. Had he been more level headed he might have been worried at being thrown in like bait. But as it was, he was too full of rage for the creature who had killed so many of the people he loved.
He moved into the deep darkness of the cellar stairway silently and swiftly. He was swallowed up by the dense blackness as completely as his mind was being consumed by his anger and hatred.
The others watched him begin his descent and waited, listening to his hushed footfalls moving steadily away from them. He was quickly swallowed up by the murky darkness, melting away from them into the gloom before their eyes.
From the cellar itself rang the sound of rattling chains, cut through with spine chilling screams. Hunter knew that it was only the sounds of the poor woman’s torment that concealed his approach. That only served to anger him further. With every step he took his eyes became more and more wild, his muscles aching with the desire to shift. He forced himself to remain human. Every ounce of his will going into stopping the transformation as he descended into the darkness. His human state was paramount to them being able to distract the monster long enough to kill him.
The suppression of his shift gifted him a headache like no other, and with each step his skin tingled more and more. By the time he took a step into the light filtering up the staircase, it was no longer a tingle but a burn. Trying desperately to ignore it he grimaced at the sensation. The cellar light was dull, and as he crept down the final step and onto the moldering floorboards he was barely touched by it. The woman’s screams had faded into guttural cries and Varulv himself was moaning and snarling. Hunter deliberately did not look at them directly as he entered the room. He could vaguely see them as moving shapes, as he slipped sideways and backwards into the deep darkness at the room’s edge.
Only once he was concealed by the inky blackness did he look at them directly. What he saw disgusted him and enraged him to a degree he would never have imagined possible.
In the centre of the room there was a scene so starkly lit by Varulv’s rigged lighting and so visually repulsive, that it would be burned forever into his mind. For a moment he could do nothing but stand and stare, completely stunned by the scene that was playing out before him. With wide eyes he gawped at the horror of Varulv’s ritual, unable to tear his gaze away.
From where he was hidden he could clearly see Varulv’s naked back, and his victims legs spread wide beyond him. The ancient werewolf was completely naked; as was the woman he had bound beneath his vigorously arching and flexing form. His body was twisted and deformed in ways that made him look utterly inhuman. Yet neither did he look like a wolf. His spine was arched and twisted, giving him a hunchback from which the spring of his ribs protruded in a way that looked agonizing. They pressed up so tautly against his skin that it seemed they would tear through. His skin itself was opaque and threaded with bulging purple veins. Here and there thin patches of fur erupted from his sweat slicked body, and at the base of his spine a thin tail was half formed and twisted against his buttocks. He lurched and thrust his hips into the woman whose cries were getting weaker and weaker. His long legs deformed into something resembling how those rear limbs might look had they been run over by a car. His arms were bulging and shifting as he clawed at his victim, and Hunter could just see that his ears had shifted on top of his head.
Hunter’s mind suddenly sprang back to life and he realised this is what Lucy’s last moments must have looked like. Suddenly shock was replaced by anger as rage flooded him. He didn’t even notice the sound of the pack member’s claws clicking down the steps.
Snarling menacingly, he took a step forward and emerged from the shadows with his fists clenched and his eyes burning with hatred.
‘Leave her alone you fucking monster!’ He roared. Around him the others were fanning out in the darkness, surrounding their quarry.
Varulv’s movements suddenly stopped. For a second he remained hunched where he was, but Hunter was not fooled. He could see the muscles in his arms twitching and knew he wasn’t going to just give himself up.
‘I said leave her alone.’ Hunter snarled, his words slow and deliberate, his fists clenching and unclenching by his sides.
A sound somewhere between a growl and a laugh bubbled out of Varulv’s mouth as he lifted his head. But he did not turn. Instead he moved with such speed that Hunter was not aware it had happened until it was over. The sound of liquid splashing onto the ground echoed around the room, and one of the monster’s clawed hands was suddenly sodden with blood.
Hunter lurched forward but stopped himself when he saw what lay beneath the beast who had murdered so many people he loved. The young woman was sprawled lifeless on the ground. Blood pumped steadily from the bloodied mess where her neck had once been. Around her battered form it spread slowly in an ever-expanding crimson pool.
‘You fucking monster!’ He screamed, burning with rage.
Varulv’s laughter grew louder and he slowly rose to his malformed paws. His legs creaked and cracked as he stood to his full height. Hunter stood firm where a lesser man might have shrunk back. The beast was nearly eig
ht foot tall.
Slowly Varulv began to turn, the light from above him bouncing off the monstrous contours of his deformed visage. He was hideous. Twisted and warped in ways that almost hurt Hunter’s eyes to look at. His head was broader, with a trench running from the back of his skull around to the bridge of his nose where the bones had not fused. His ears sat atop his head but were crumpled and somewhere between being human and lupine. Fur jutted out of one of them in a matted clump and the other seemed ready to tear from his scalp. His eyes were small and wicked in the deformed mass of his skull. One sat lower than the other and where one was sunken, the other bulged. His nose was split open, his nostrils stretched and torn as though someone had tried to stretch them horizontally around his face. But the worst thing by far was his mouth. He had not grown any length to his muzzle and yet his mouth was crowded with canine teeth. They were so many in number that his lips had split and torn. They were so clustered together that they jutted out in all directions, and when he laughed they cut at his gums and face.
