by K. R. Smith
I tried roll away from him and the delicious aroma of his cut, but Grant pulled me back using his greater strength. Whilst keeping his uninjured right arm about my body, he used his strong claws to force apart my jaw. Then he shoved his injured wrist into my mouth…
Frickin’ hell’s delight! I had never tasted anything so good before in my entire life! Imagine the most perfect plum or the sweetest peach or even the rarest steak that you have ever enjoyed and times that pleasure by a hundred!
DRINK! – he mentally commanded.
As the mouthwatering sweetness like nectar from the ripest fruit filled my mouth, I couldn’t help it…my sharp teeth came down!
Grant’s eyes squeezed shut from the pain, but he didn’t stop me. The blood flowed freely out of his double wound as I gripped onto his arm. I drank down his life force like I was both ravenously hungry and dying of thirst.
The agonizing stabbing pains immediately began to ease as my heart raced in excitement! My skin warmed all over as I felt renewed energy course through my veins. I drank in his warmth, I drank in his vitality, I drank down his essence. Until this night, I had never quite understood the term ‘life force’ when applied to blood before now. But drinking Grant’s blood? It was like I was truly drinking HIM. He was his blood and that night it also became part of mine.
I started to lose track of how much I was drinking as I reveled in these new sensations…that was until I felt his heart slow and his blood pressure begin to fall.
*NO!* my protective instinct roared. *HE IS YOUR MATE!*
I sharply drew back my head and gasped, pushing away his wrist. Grant leaned heavily against the bath tub, pale and panting hard. I turned and looked on him fearfully… oh no, what have I done?!
“I’m OK…!” He heaved whilst still keeping his uninjured arm about his wife. “If I remain in my Werewolf form, I will be fully regenerated by morning.” I turned around in his arms to cup his face as I sniffed him worriedly. “I’m OK, B.” He managed out one more time, before he closed his eyes to rest.
I looked down and saw that his wrist was still bleeding and it wasn’t healing quickly as it was meant to. I picked it up and placed it in my mouth once more, not to drink but to heal. He partially opened his glowing silver eyes to watch. I ran my tongue over the broken skin repetitively, to start his healing process. I could feel it begin to work as the bleeding slowed to a stop. By the time I removed it from my mouth again, it was well on its way to healing over.
“Sleep now B, sleep.” He held his wife closely.
Guiltily, I wrapped my arms around his torso and I closed my eyes. I listened to his heart beat and as mine beat strongly, I concentrated on bringing his heart beat into sync with mine. After a minute, I felt his heart beat fall into the same rhythm. Next, I focused on his breathing as Grant was still panting hard. I had to concentrate on slowing it down to make him breath more deeply. After another couple of minutes, his breathing began to even out too.
My nose nuzzled against his neck, inhaling his herb garden scent as my eyes remained closed. Within ten minutes of listening to his steady breathing, I was sleeping soundly in the arms of my mate.
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Chapter 10
New Chapter
~ 10 ~
11th October 2084
The full moon period ended, leaving a pair of newly-weds a little worse for wear. Each night that I was locked inside that bathroom with Dad and Grandfather playing jailors, my new husband was locked inside with me. Where for me it was necessity, for Grant it was by choice. He refused to let me go through the agonizing pain brought on by the bloodlust alone.
For three nights, my Lokoti Werewolf husband held onto his Lokoti Werewolf wife as he did his damndest to lessen the pain somehow. At first he would try to soothe as he held me in his arms. Secondly, he would try to talk to me to try to get my mind off my painful situation. Thirdly, he would use his claws to put a gash on the inside of his arm which he would place in my eager yet guilty mouth.
The bloodlust made me eager but the guilt of relying on my husband in such a way, made me reluctant. However Grant made good on his word; by the next morning he was fully regenerated from his injuries. But I did notice the bloodletting could leave him famished, as his body demanded sustenance to replenish his blood level.
Grant would sit at the dining table with Dad and Grandfather, as all three of them eagerly scoffed down their huge, hot breakfasts that Mum or Gran cooked up. But the sight and the smell of cooked food, after painfully craving raw meat all night, made me nauseas.
“Excuse me.” I put down my cup of coffee as I left the table.
I went up the stairs and into my bedroom to curl up on top of the bed. I laid in a fetal position as my abdomen still felt tense and sore from the previous night’s proceedings. My eyes watered with self-pity as I stared at the glowing red digits of Grant’s alarm clock.
Time seemed like a cruel joke, only reminding me that I may have survived my second full moon cycle as a new Werewolf but the next full moon was only twenty-seven days away. It meant I would have to go through all of this again and again, for all my existence as a Werewolf.
However I soon realized, my family had a plan to tackle what would happen the next full moon. As I came to realize, it wasn’t just the Lokoti Werewolves that were the embodiment of the Chumbawumba ‘Tub Thumping’ song, it was the Circulators too. “I get knocked down, but I get up again, you’re never gonna keep me down…” as the song goes; and so did my husband, mother, father, grandfather and grandmother.
On the fourth morning when I came down the stairs, dressed to start my day; I found in my living area the aforementioned people all gathered around my dining table.
“Oh,” my eyes widened in surprise, “hallo.”
“Hey B.” Mum smiled.
“It’s a nice day outside,” Gran grinned, “it’s the perfect weather to start your training.”
“What training?” I queried.
“Your training as a Circulator.” She announced.
“But before we begin, I propose that we eat first.” Grandfather recommended.
“Yep.” All of the male Werewolves in the room eagerly agreed.
“I can’t concentrate on an empty stomach.” Grant admitted.
“Me neither.” Dad shook his head.
Then he, Grant and Grandfather all went into the kitchen to start cooking up breakfast for one and all. Within twenty minutes, everyone was seated at the dining table in my new house; guzzling down scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns, grilled tomatoes and toast, the men had procured.
“Good eggs, Em.” Gran complimented as she finished off her plate. “You can really take after your mother in the kitchen.”
“Yep, Clara Riverclaw’s culinary expertise is legendary in the tribe.” Grant smiled to Grandfather. “Even my Mom borrows recipes from your Mom.”
“So does mine.” Dad chuckled. “I think my parents were secretly waiting for me to marry Jess, so Mom had an excuse to visit Clara Riverclaw in the kitchen more often on the pretense to talk about us.”
“That’s alright,” Grandfather laughed, “because my Mom also had a cunning plan about your coupling. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on your Dad’s knitting patterns.”
On this, Grant looked at the white woolen turtle-neck jumper I was wearing. “Did your Grandpa knit that for you?” he asked.
“Yep.” I nodded.
“A Lokoti Werewolf who likes to knit; if outsiders only knew?” He joked as Mum giggled in agreement.
“You’ll need to change out of your jumper before we start your training, B.” Gran warned. “You don’t want to put a hole in it.”
I thought that was a little odd, as I pondered on what kind of training were they planning? “Why?”
“Today, your mother and I are going to start off your training in fencing.” She announced.
“You can move in the speed of light.” Mum stated. “So it’s a good place to start t
eaching you fencing before we move onto phasing through time.”
My eyebrows rose warily, “um, do you really think I’ll be able to phase? I mean, running really fast is completely different to passing through mirrors or glass without breaking them.”
“You looked bright like your skin was glowing, when you ran.” Dad advised.
“I did?” I echoed in surprise.
“I guess your grandmother and your mother think it’s related to how you phase through time.” Grandfather shrugged.
“It is related.” Mum proclaimed. “By moving in light speed, you’re effectively turning yourself into light. I’d bet a hundred bucks that says you’re probably running in phase rather than in your biological body.”
“I’ll agree to your wager.” Gran smiled in amusement. “Let’s make it two hundred quid that says Jess is right.”
“I’m on your side.” Grandfather grinned to his beloved mate. “I’ve learned never to underestimate what a Circulator says about the timeline or even about other Circulators.”
“So if I’m going to learn fencing, does that mean I’m going to get a sword of my own to play with?” I asked hopeful.
I have always admired Mum’s and Gran’s swords. Ever since I was a little girl, I liked to swing them around as I imagined that I could sword fight in the speed of light, like they could. I had many imaginary battles, taking down monsters like the European Werewolf that attacked Aunt Susan and turned Declan. However the battles would end when either Dad or Grandfather would chastise, “that sword is NOT a toy, B.” They would warily come to take it away, always careful to hold the weapon by the hilt and avoid the blade as it was silver folded over steel and as we all know, Werewolves are allergic to silver.
“To ‘play’ with?” Dad’s eyebrows rose unimpressed as he repeated, “swords aren’t toys, B. They’re deadly and dangerous weapons.”
“Especially when they’re silver coated.” Grandfather frowned my way, before he looked at Gran. “B’s sword isn’t coated with silver, is it?”
“It is.” Gran said simply.
Just then the table turned quiet as the male Werewolves eyes bulged at this piece of news.
“But Arabella,” he began, “B is a Lokoti Werewolf and Werewolves are allergic to silver.”
“Yes, I know that other Werewolves are allergic to silver.” Gran smirked.
“‘Other’ Werewolves?” Dad immediately caught what she said.
Then Gran stood up and momentarily left the table. We watched her walk over to where I now noticed three sheathed swords stood, leaning against the wall. I recognized two of them as Mum and her silver-coated Katanas, which were Japanese style swords.
I was once told that the Circulate’s collection of Katanas were indeed made in Japan in the medieval times. Gran told of how they were collected by a Japanese Circulator who had left Earth with the majority of the Circulate in the ‘Final Phase’. The swords were left as a part of the collection of weapons through the ages, on display in the self-defense training room at Circulate HQ. The Katanas complimented perfectly the European swords, crossbows or longbows through the ages which also hung on the wall. There were even futuristic laser rifles, next to the polished antique muskets.
My heart picked up speed in excitement when Gran picked up the third sword to carry over. “This is for you, B.” she smiled. “Consider it an early birthday present. But don’t lose it, because not only is it a priceless antique, but one day it’s going to save your life.”
I practically snatched it from her as I giggled with anticipation! I immediately unsheathed it to behold the long, sharp, silver-coated Katana gleaming in my hands…
“Woah!” Grant, Dad and Grandfather instantly leapt out of their seats and away from the table.
“Arabella!” Dad looked on worriedly. “B is a Werewolf! Can’t she get a sword that’s NOT coated in silver?”
Hmm, if I was a Werewolf then shouldn’t I feel apprehension around silver too? But I don’t and I wondered why. The women watched intently as the men looked on in horror; as I reached out my other hand to touch the actual sword.
“NO, B! DON’T!” The male Werewolves yelled in alarm.
But nothing happened… I was touching the blade, but nothing was happening from the contact with my flesh.
“Are you sure it’s silver?” I checked with Gran.
“Yep,” she clarified, “it’s silver alright.”
“But I thought Werewolves are allergic to silver?” I frowned, confused.
“We are allergic to silver.” Grant stated.
“Then you touch it.” I moved the sword towards him.
“NO B!” He leapt further backwards in a lightening fast move.
Huh? I don’t understand, why won’t Grant go near but I can hold it?
“Gran?” I looked to her for an answer.
“Arabella?” so did Grandfather.
“I just had this feeling.” She shrugged.
“Actually, so did I.” Mum smirked. “B is the first female Lokoti Werewolf, but because she’s also a Circulator…”
“…silver doesn’t have the same effect on her.” Gran finished.
Now Mum clicked her fingers as something else occurred to her, “I bet it has something to do with her higher bio-electromagnetic frequency! Circulator’s don’t age the same way as humans do because we’re in temporal flux. I bet it’s the same with silver.”
“Her heightened bio-electromagnetic frequency is harmonizing with her Lokoti Werewolf regenerative ability. So as a Circulator, she’s faster than Werewolves and now, she’s also not allergic to silver.” Gran pronounced.
I looked on the two older women impressed, “did you two just ‘see’ all of that then?”
They stood back smugly and nodded. Although I believed them, I also sensed there was something missing to the equation.
“Hang on.” I said and then I surprised everyone by morphing into my stronger Lokoti Werewolf shape.
In my supernatural form, I touched the silver on the sword again…still nothing. So this time I ran my finger along the sharp edge and that got a reaction for sure!
“OOOOWWWW!” I roared in pain!
Simultaneously I dropped the sword which clanged when it landed on top of the table, as I jumped backwards recoiling in pain.
My finger didn’t feel like I had a simple cut, but it felt like it was burning too! It was like somebody had poured acid into the wound! I nursed my injured hand whilst reverting to my human shape, as I backed so far away from the table that I knocked into the wall.
“Let me see.” Grant was quick to rush to my side. He carefully held my hand and we both looked down to see blood almost pour out of the tiny cut.
“There’s so much blood!” I whimpered, afraid.
“As a human which is also her Circulator form, B can touch the silver. But in Werewolf form if the silver breaks her skin? Then silver causes just as much injury to her as it does to us.” He proclaimed.
“So she’s not as allergic to silver as we are, but she’s still allergic.” Dad pondered as he and the rest of my family crowded around to see.
“But it’s just a tiny cut! Why is there so much blood?” I complained.
“Silver is deadly to Werewolves.” Grandfather spoke softly. “In weapon form, it can kill us.”
“We can’t regenerate easily from silver-caused injuries.” Dad added on.
“It’s why you’re bleeding so much and why the cut isn’t healing itself immediately.” Grant finished. “But Em and Hunter look at the cut, do you notice anything different?”
Dad’s breath sucked in sharply as his eyes widened, “there’s blood but no smoke.”
“Smoke? What smoke?” I gave him a peculiar look.
“Silver burns us. It not only weakens our flesh, but a small amount of red smoke can appear which is a chemical reaction to the silver.” Grandfather explained.
Next, Grant raised my injured finger to gently place it inside of his mouth. I felt h
is tongue tenderly lap at the cut, sending it numb with his regenerative ability. As he did so, my parents and grandparents moved a little away to give us privacy.
My eyes met with my husband’s, as my stomach felt all fluttery from the contact. After a minute, he took my finger back out of his mouth and we both looked on. The cut had completely healed over and was now just a small, pink line.
“Thanks!” I looked at my husband like he was a hero. Grant gave a small smile, before he turned to look warily on my silver sword on top of the table. “What would happen if you touched the sword?” I asked him.
“I can’t touch it.” My husband stated. “I can’t touch silver at all…not as swords, not as bullets, not even as jewelry.”
“Why?” I asked. “I mean, what would happen if you touched silver jewelry?”
Grant exchanged rueful looks with the other males, before Grandfather explained, “when your grandmother and I were 14 years old, she used to wear a silver crucifix that her father bought her.”
“Oh oh.” Gran’s face fell. “I remember this story.”
“I wasn’t aware she had it on, as it was hidden under her blouse. But when I hugged her and a small part of my skin touched it?” Grandfather still winced from the memory, “it left a swollen, red welt which lasted for a week. It felt just like a burn does.”
“I never wore that necklace again.” Gran looked on Grandfather guiltily. “I’m so sorry Em…”
“It’s OK.” He smiled patiently. “It happened in the first month we met. You were still getting used to the idea of having a Werewolf as a playmate.”
Gran giggled as she put her arms about her husband’s neck, “you became my playmate alright.” Then the two laughed softly before they exchanged a kiss.
Mum cleared her throat, “erm, back to B’s training?”
“Yes,” she turned back around as Grandfather’s arms remained about her waist, “back to B’s training. So how about we go to the usual place we train in?”
“Cool!” I gave an excited jump. “The self-defense room at Circulate Headquarters?”
“Not yet.” Gran smilingly shook her head.
