Feral Passion

by Avery Duncan

  I’m so stupid. . .stupid, immature, and inexperienced, she thought, berating herself. The man in the room had looked nothing but experienced; who was she to even try the wanna-be act?

  Mary started the car, backing out slowly. One of the cars there caught her attention, and she could feel her face drop even more. Sleek, black, and dangerous looking, the Bentley sat under the shade of a tree, money and power dripping off of it in diamond auras.

  She was just turning onto transit when her phone rang from her purse. Reaching over with her eyes still on the road, she put it to her ear. “Waters.”

  “Do you always have to sound so impersonal?” Ulrich asked from the other end, sounding bemused.

  “Not really, I didn’t see the caller. I’m driving,” she explained, turning her blinker on.

  “I see.”

  “So, what did you need?” Mary put the phone between her ear and shoulder, turning onto her street.

  “Just warning you that I’ll be coming over in about five to ten minutes.” He sounded. . .worried.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, turning off the car. She didn’t get out.

  “Nothing, Mary. Just stay inside and I’ll be there shortly.”

  The line dropped.

  Sighing and running a hand through her hair, she opened her door and grabbed her purse. Sometimes, her brother worried her, made her think that he was losing his mind and most likely never going to get it back.

  She flipped the switch to her living room, moving to fall back into the soft couch. Her muscles were so tense, so strung that she felt as if she never wanted to move from that spot again. Mary slipped off her shoes and curled into a ball, arms wrapping around herself.

  Her eyes were closed, her body about to shift into her feline form, when the sound of the door opening made her eyes pop open.

  She completely forgot about her brother, her tiredness, and the sweet dreams of Jaques that were supposed to be playing around in her head. Mary stayed still, threatened. She slowly got to her feet.

  Silence. The sound of a foot step.

  Then the familiar smell of her brother.

  Her shoulders slumped so much that she could have fallen. God, she had been close to fainting with fear and adrenaline, thinking of all the young women who had been killed in the past months. Thank lord it had been her brother and not some murderer, or she would have been screwed.

  Tired, wary, worn-out, whatever you wanted to call it was what she was.

  “Mary?” a deep voice called out.

  “In here,” she said, the tiredness revealing too much.

  “Are you okay?” Ulrich came around the corner, eyes worried, shoulders tense, looming and dangerous.

  She nodded silently, moving to the couch.

  “What’s wrong?” His hand closed around her shoulder.

  “Just a little tired, nothing to worry about.” Mary waved his hand away, and wished she could have gotten rid of the look in his eyes just as easily.

  He sat beside her silently, eyes catching up on the dim lighting and depressing feel of the house. She wondered if he would ever understand what it was like to be her, to be a female Chosen, to be alone.

  Lately, everything that had been happening had started to build on her shoulders. She felt as if the world was sitting on top of her and not ready to move in the slightest. It was as if. . .she were trapped. There was no way she could get out of the stress, get out of the fear, get out of the responsibility of running a whole pacchetto with murders and fighting and everything else of the sort.

  “I’m going to start packing your bags for you, you just sit here and rest.” Her brother finally stood, acting as if nothing about what he was saying was shocking.

  “Wait, what?” Her blinking eyes turned to his.

  “Take a nap or something, Mary.” His voice was. . .sad.

  Instead of doing what she most wanted to do, she stood up and crossed her arms over her chest. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m not going to take a nap while you pack for me. Why would I even need to?” she asked, incredulous.

  He stared at her, then finally said. “Your going to move in with me.”

  Her eyes popped wide, and she held up a hand. “Hold on. I’m trying to understand this crap that your telling me and thinking of a way to tell you hell no.”

  Ulrich let out a breath of irritation. “Don’t go being independent on me now, Mary. I talked to mom a bit ago, and she agrees that either I should stay with you or you should stay with me.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” He raised a brow.

  She took a step toward him, finger stabbing his chest. “Yeah. Why?”

  “The murders are getting close to your house. Have you not noticed that, Mary? That every single killing is only getting closer to you?”

  She paused, backing down from him. Was it natural to feel your heart in your head? She thought, sitting down weakly. Mary paled, knowing that her brother was right, as much as she wished he wasn’t.

  “You're staying with me till this is over and that’s the end of it.” Her brother’s cold, hard voice brought her eyes up. Protecting her, always there for her.

  She shook her head.

  “I won’t let you do that, I can’t let you risk your life for me if he does come after me,” she whispered.

  “Are you kidding me right now? First, you plan on making the change of the century, and now you're just ready to be killed. I—” His green eyes, so much like hers, bore into her.

  He stalked from the room.

  “Ulrich, please! I can’t do that, okay? I’ll be fine, I’m sure he doesn’t even know who I am!” she lied, running after him.

  When she found him in her closet, she grabbed for his shoulder and tried to pull him back. “Ulrich, calm down! Nothing has happened yet, so nothing will happen.”

  He rounded on her. “That’s what those other girls thought, too! One second they are happy, alive and living their lives. The next? Dead. That could be you, and I will not have my sister dead because I couldn’t protect her!” He shouted, voice breaking on the word “protect”.

  “I can’t be killed, Ulrich.” If only he knew how much she meant that. She could feel pain, could experience feelings, could live just as anyone else.

  She just couldn’t die.

  Mary watched as her older brother’s eyes turned red, dampening. Her heart clenched and she wrapped her arms around him tightly, feeling like the worst person in the world for making her strong brother cry.

  “Yes you can, Mary. You can die and I wouldn’t have you anymore. I have to protect you,” he choked out, his huge arms coming around her in a crushing hug. “You're my sister, Mary. I can’t. . .”

  She nodded against him, eyes watering at the emotion in his voice, the way he was letting his guard down after so many years.

  “Ulrich. . . I’m so sorry.” It was pointless to ask him not to cry; he would deny the pained tears that were pooling in his eyes.

  “Just come stay with me. You won’t get hurt, I can keep you safe,” he growled/cried, his voice pained.

  They stayed like that, brother and sister holding each other, trying not to feel the pain of the thought of losing one another.

  Finally, Mary pulled back, eyes sad as she stared up at Ulrich.

  “I’m sorry. . . I can’t.”

  Chapter 10

  The club’s music practically poured into his soul as he sat in the booth with his other companions. Woman in corsets and bustier, stockings and pierced body parts all danced around them, preening under the heated looks they were getting.

  Beers were passed around, strobe lights flashing with the beat of the music, and bodies undulation with the rhythm that suggested sex.

  “What can I get for you, boys?”

  The waitress’ voice brought his eyes up, scanning over her body with faint disinterest. Fishnet stocks, neon pink thong, and smeared make-up. He could feel her eyes on his watch and clothing, sizing him up for how much she co
uld milk out of him.

  “I’ll just have a plain beer,” Raffaele said, getting out some cash.

  Chase, who was sitting beside him, smiled up at the woman, eyes lingering on her protruding breasts. “Blue MotherFucker for me, baby.”

  The waitress licked her blood red lips, writing down the order absently. “I can have one of the girls take care of this and we can go to the back, if you want,” she purred, strutting closer to Chase.

  He chuckled, tucking a ten into her chest. “Maybe later, I’m here with a friend.”

  She pouted. “He can come, too. I don’t mind the extra company, if you don’t mind double pay.” Those disgustingly red lips smirked down at Chase, and Raff barely held in a snort.

  Ever the charmer, he thought as his friend lingered on her chest.

  She gave a smug smile to Raff, and then strutted off, hips swinging with an extra kick.

  “Got plans later tonight?” Chase asked, turning to meet his friend with a grin.

  “Actually, I do.”

  “Important enough to bail out on a sexpadition with her?”

  Raffaele laughed. “Sleeping does have its perks, you know.”

  His friend rolled his eyes, sighing. “You need to get out more, my friend. I swear, sometimes you are so holed up in that office of yours that you would think you're a mole.”

  “You do what you gotta do. And you aren’t one to talk, either! Look at you, so holed up in females that you would think you are a thong.”

  Chase snorted, hand going to his throat with mock horror. “I believe you meant dildo. I would prefer that to a thong.”

  Raffaele shook his head in disappointment. “And I thought your mother raised you better than this. She would be turning over in her grave if she could hear you right now.”

  “Let’s talk about your mother, shall we?” Chase asked, settling back into the chair comfortably with a sly look.

  He glared at the blonde man. “Let’s not.”

  “And why—”

  “Here are your drinks, gentlemen,” the waitress from before announced, setting the drinks down and then sliding in next to Chase.

  He waved his eyes at Raff before wrapping an arm around the woman's waist, drawing her close into his body as she began necking him.

  Blonde, arrogant, and a bit of a man-whore, Chase had the attitude that most men craved yet hated. Cocky to the point of being a prick, Raffaele couldn’t even hold up the amount of times that Chase had been in fights on his fingers.

  Chase had been the one to come with him to Iowa, yet he didn’t live anywhere near where Raffaele did. The two had been childhood friends, but when they had graduated, Chase had been all ready to move to Italy where his Archaeos roots were most strong. A lot of the kids in his graduating class had done that, but being the soon-to-be leader of the pacchetto, it was hard to have a real life.

  Her hands were already working on the zipper to his friend’s pants, and Raff held in a sigh. The blonde must have noticed because he pushed her off gently, this time putting a twenty in between her breasts. “I said later, babe.” He gave her a slap on the ass to get her going, and she walked away reluctantly, shaking that fake ass.

  “You always were a party-pooper,” Chase commented with a bored sigh.

  “I don’t need to see my best friend having sex in front of me.” He laughed.

  “You’ve done a lot more than watch before, man.”

  Raffaele picked up his drink, taking a small sip before putting it down with distaste. The blue drink sitting in front of Chase looked all too inviting. He averted his eyes to the dance floor, where sweaty bodies and heated glances were being exchanged and returned.

  He thought of Mary, her innocent forest eyes and long brown hair, and shrugged. “Times change.”

  Chase’s eyes narrowed. “Who is she?”

  Raff raised his eyes, playing dumb. “Who is who?”

  “The girl.”

  “What girl?”

  “You know.”

  “No I don’t.”

  Chase growled, taking a drink of his Blue MotherFucker. “Don’t play dick with me, tell me who she is.”

  “The only girl I’ve talked to today is the leader of this pacchetto, not a whole lot more to say about it.” He didn’t know why, but even just thinking about the brunette while in a place like this seemed. . .wrong. Like he was tainting her.

  What would she think of him, if she knew that he was in this club right now? Worse than she already did, which wasn’t saying a lot.

  “What’s her name?” Chase asked, acting much like a pitbull.

  He sighed, rubbing his jaw. “Mary.”

  “Mary?”

  Raff nodded.

  “Do you know her last name?” He asked curiously, nursing his alcohol.

  “Waters.” He really didn’t want to be talking about her with Chase. Like at all.

  Chase nodded knowingly, flashing a white smile. “Little affair while you're out here, then? Want some. . .company?”

  Raff growled before he could stop himself, hands clenching around the glass hard enough that a small crack sounded. “No.”

  Chase held up his hands. “Calm down, bro. I was just playing.”

  He felt like ripping his friends hands as he thought about Chase and Mary together. Just the implication that she would be with someone like him pissed him off to no ends.

  “Yeah. Right.”

  Chase rolled his eyes. “So how did that meeting with Mary go?”

  He felt his eyes cross with irritation. Of course, Chase always had been the one to give him shit. “It was fine.”

  “‘Fine or better than fine? That look in your eye suggest something more,” Chase said, smirking.

  “Chase, I swear to god. . . One day, you’ll be sleeping so deeply that I’ll just be tempted to kill you. You won’t wake up.”

  “Don’t play tough, we all know I could kill you in a second,” lied Chase, chuckling.

  His eyes rolled. “Yeah, you think that. I’ll be right back, I have to use the bathroom.” Raff stood up, placing the money for the beer on the table.

  “I might call that waitress over here,” his friend mused with carnal intent.

  Raff laughed. “You do that.”

  He walked through the gyrating bodies, the groping hands, and the smell of smoke and alcohol to the men's bathroom, ignoring the sounds of rhythmic pounding and moans. The lighting was barely lighter than it was outside, dim and stingy with the low tint of yellow from the lighting.

  You would think that the club would have an amazing, deco bathroom with low LED lights and automatic fountains with an instant dry blower for your hands.

  Instead?

  It wreaked of pot, sex, and vomit.

  Standing over the sink and blocking out the sound of the fucking from behind him, Raff tried to clear his mind, thinking over what was going on in the club and also about. . .his rage over Mary and Chase.

  And how wrong it was.

  Who the hell was he to get jealous over a girl he had just met, had only seen twice, and had probably made such a bad impression with their last words going by the way that she had run out so quickly.

  His eyes narrowed on the stained-yellow sink. What was Romero to her? Not a brother, they looked way to different, and while he understood that people didn’t always look like family, it sure as fuck was a too big difference.

  The sound of zipping and completed sighs drew his attention to where he was now, and how. . .disgusted he felt. Turning on the water and washing his face, he got a paper towel out and dried his hands off as he exited the room.

  He wasn’t shocked when he came back to Chase and the woman going at it, right there in the seat. Raff had expected nothing less when he had agreed to go out with the guy, but it was still awkward for him to be around when he wasn’t in the mood to join—even though the offer to double up on her was still there.

  Polishing off his beer, Raff tapped the woman on the shoulder, not caring that her hands were
so deep in Chase’s pants that it seemed like she was glued there. She gave a glare before masking it, recognizing that he wasn’t going to join in.

  “Another one, please.” He leaned over, holding up his empty beer, to smile innocently at Chase who’s eyes were speaking far more than anything else could have.

  “You’re such a dick,” he spit out, earning another innocent grin.

  “Come with me to talk to Michael at the bar.”

  “Are you sure that it’s him?” Chase asked, forgetting about his “sexpadition”.

  “It must be, my beta described him with enough detail that he’s practically imprinted in my mind. Plus, I’m not to sure that juts any person would have an eagle tattooed on his face. . .”

  “True that,” Chase said, getting up. “What all do you need to ask him?”

  “Just. . .stuff.” He paused. “Chase?”

  Chase raised a brow. “Yeah?”

  “Shut the fuck up, kay?”

  Chapter 11

  Mary watched Ulrich back out of her driveway, letting out a sigh of relief. After the hugging and begging, he had finally understood that she wasn’t going anywhere and he couldn't make her move anymore than he could the sun.

  She closed the door slowly, checking around the corns of the house, paranoid. All of the locks were in place, curtains closed, and every single light that she owned was on. Ulrich was supposed to come by at around noon tomorrow with some friends to put in a more. . .stable and advanced security system.

  Her fingers rubbed at her eyes, trying to get rid of the headache that had only gotten worse while he had been there. She wondered briefly if she should go see a doctor about the headaches; they were showing up and getting worse every time.

  Then she thought about all the complications it would cause and all the questions and worry it would ignite, and held it off. Everything she did, everywhere she went, Mary was always being watched and questioned. Barely any privacy to herself, all she had was her house—which she hated. The fact that she had to be under strict security by force of her family irritated her to no ends, but she understood their concern and let them have their way.