Black Werewolves: Books 1–4

by Gaja J. Kos

  Zarja and Evelin leaped together into a thick group of werewolves that stood between them and the encampment, slicing through the wall of bodies and turning their threatening growls into whimpers, until even those died down with a blood-filled gurgling sound. Rose picked out the stray ones, preventing them from attacking from behind and joining in with the rest. She flung herself on the back of one who had just turned away, the vile taste of his flesh filling her mouth as her canines cut into his neck. She was still gnawing at his throat when she sensed two werewolves stalking towards her, one from each side. She lifted her head, her mouth still dripping with the blood and torn ligaments, and firmly stretched out her hands.

  The werewolves leaped simultaneously, their tender undersides catching on Rose's claws. She shouldn't have had the strength to hold two muscular bodies, yet the calm power that rushed through her kept her arms steady. She used the weres' momentum to plunge her hands farther inside them, just under their ribcages. Feeling the warm gush of blood, she lowered her arms and brought the dying beasts down with them. It was a lethal injury, but Rose dragged her sharp claws down their abdomens nonetheless, leaving their torsos gaping as if they had been pried open with a scalpel.

  Discarding the bodies, she ran towards her two pack mates who had successfully pushed the enemy farther into their camp and closer to the bloodied wall of death the twins, Mark, and Tim had formed. They had no need for their usual wolf form of communication. The bond carried their thoughts in its cryptic language with ease. They knew they could take the rest of them, slashing through their reduced numbers until only one survivor remained, the one who would wait for his death a little while longer.

  The gravel shone red under the sun, the smell thick. Caught in the midst of fighting, Rose had been oblivious to the underlying scent that flowed inseparably with the blood. She growled and felt the pulse spread through the threads connecting her with her pack. They didn't stop fighting, but they understood. The venom lay within their opponents. Rose held back for a moment, focusing on the scent; it didn't take her long to find the odd liveliness in it, the pulse of a macabre spirit hidden right at the bottom of all the substantial layers the toxin consisted of. She thought it reeked only from the werewolves who were still alive, but when she took in the rest of her surroundings, she found it had remained embedded in the corpses, traces of it lingering even in the blood that slowly soaked the ground beneath them.

  Sharing the knowledge through the bond, she ran towards the camp where the six Blacks had already cut down most of the remaining werewolves, not merely going for the kill, but reveling in the process. Someone's spine dangled from Evelin's muzzle, her emerald eyes glowing with content. It was an inviting sight, one that spoke of the feral power of The Dark Ones, and without a second thought, Rose plunged directly into the tightly knit group of enemy werewolves, her claws slashing at everything within her reach.

  Teeth cut the strap of her tank top, ripping her skin in the process. Rose turned in a circular motion, hands already outstretched. The werewolf tried to get back down on all fours, moving away from her, but she caught him mid-motion, claws drawing a streak of red across his muzzle. He whined, positioning himself in a crouched stance that would allow him to leap onto her once again, but Rose didn't hesitate. She took the were by surprise as she jumped directly at him, sinking her fingers into the sides of his neck, and bringing them forward, nearly decapitating him in one swift movement. The large brown body fell to the ground, the pool of blood widening.

  When she turned back to face the pack, they had already cut down the enemy to the last two survivors. One of them was limping, a deep slash running down his leg; but despite his injury, he kept snarling at the approaching werewolves, trying to hold his ground. The other had lain down in a sign of surrender. Mark, Tim, and Zarja flung themselves on the still growling were, taking him from all sides. Their teeth tore at his flesh, effectively bringing him apart before actually delivering the killing bite.

  They raised their heads over the malformed carcass, blood appearing even darker than crimson where it clung to their fur. With a final snarl directed towards the mangled corpse, the three joined the rest of the pack, who had already encircled the remaining werewolf. Carefully, Rose approached the mass of brown lying on the ground, not truly believing in his surrender. He lifted his head, and their eyes met. The werewolf's gaze was filled with unbarred hostility, yet he didn't try to move from his submissive stance. Rose felt a new surge of power crawl under her skin; unlike the bond of The Dark Ones, this sensation felt somewhat more isolated, personal. And it was telling her something was off.

  She held the werewolf's gaze, studying the abyss behind his eyes with a surgical calmness. A flicker passed over his otherwise immutable stare, and that was all Rose needed.

  “You want to be captured, don't you?” She smiled, flashing her blood-stained canines.

  The werewolf growled at her remark, his giant body leaping upwards and onto Rose. She blocked his snarling muzzle with one hand, maneuvering the other around his legs and finding the tender flesh of his abdomen. She spread her fingers, feeling the blood trickle down her skin as her claws sunk deeper into the werewolf. She flung him to the side, positioning herself on top of his body.

  “That wasn't very nice.” Each word that came out of her mouth was a chilling growl. The werewolf tried to fight her off, but she was too strong. She held him pinned to the ground and lowered her face so close to his that she could smell the venom on his breath, felt it pulsing through his veins. “You'll serve just as good dead.”

  She bit down on his neck, not caring about the vile taste of the werewolf's flesh. She spat out the pieces, bringing her teeth back down to tear at the remaining tendons. The were went limp underneath her. Rose pulled herself up and dragged the body back to where the pack had been standing, motionless, yet alert for the duration of her performance.

  Zarja and Evelin started to stalk towards a barrack that had been positioned on the far end of their encampment. They all wanted to get out of enemy territory as quickly as possible, but they couldn't leave without investigating what had been hidden from sight. A body might not be enough for Nathaniel to find much relevance on his own, so they agreed to do a quick sweep of the makeshift establishment for anything that might prove useful.

  The two werewolves stopped in their tracks midway to the barrack. It should have been abandoned. Mark and Tim had even passed it during their attack on the camp and had felt no signs of life seep through the wooden walls. Evelin and Zarja remained motionless, staring at the brown figures that had begun to group in the open doorway, crawling forward at a slow pace. With horror, Rose realized they weren't all regular weres; some of the bodies clashed with the rest in nearly perfect contrast, their white fur standing out in the pool of brown.

  The pack pulled back, moving slowly to the other end of the clearing for Veles to be able to transport them out of the camp. They were strong, but even with the power of The Dark Ones, they didn't dare to risk fighting a new entourage of werewolves, especially not one that appeared to match, if not exceed, the head count of the ones they had already taken down. Besides, being aware that they had already pushed their luck walking so bluntly into one trap, risking it for the second time seemed more than reckless.

  The werewolves flowed out of the barrack, forming lines as they pushed farther into the center of their base, standing in a battle formation no werewolf, at least not someone without a human mind, would think of using. The pack had almost made it to the far end of the camp, dragging the body with them. Slowly, they reared farther away, their gazes fixed on the growling enemy lines.

  Evelin had closed the distance to the pack, but Zarja froze midway, staring into the eyes of a werewolf that stood in a well-formed line right on the edge of the perimeter of the clearing, his brown fur gleaming with auburn highlights under the noon sun. The weres moved forward, their stances becoming more crouched with each step, and Rose knew this was their last chance to get out. The sna
rling weres would see them vanish into thin air, but they were still far enough, although barely, not to see exactly what would happen. More importantly, they wouldn't be able to know for certain who had taken them. A deep growl rose from her. They needed to disappear as soon as possible.

  Rose ran towards Zarja, keeping her gaze fixed firmly on the enemy lines whose number seemed to be growing with every passing second. She wrapped her hands around the werewolf's muscular body and dragged her backward, back to their pack who waited a short distance away, huddled in a semicircle around the body. She called out to Veles in her mind, reaching the rest of the Blacks a fraction of a second before the world once again descended into darkness.

  Chapter 23

  The werewolves found themselves in the middle of a large sitting room. It was similar to the one Rose had been in during her initial meeting with Veles, only the furnishing was more sparse and definitely more modern, although all the pieces clearly carried Veles's unmistakable style. The familiarity of it sent a rush of warmth through Rose's body, putting her at ease.

  “We'll get blood on your carpet.” Rose smiled as the last remains of darkness finally left her eyes and she found herself facing the god's dark and slender figure.

  “As long as we don't intend to fuck on it later, I truly don't care.” He smiled back, taking a step towards her. “Although having a little fun in the blood could be interesting.”

  The rest of the pack began to shift back and were delighted to see Veles had laid out light cotton robes for them. They didn't mind the nudity; it came naturally to the shapeshifters, but discussing serious matters was somehow always more pleasing in the comfort of clothes. They used the towels that had been placed near a large bowl of warm water to wipe away most of the bloodstains that had refused to disappear from their skin after they had shifted back into human form. Passably clean, they wrapped themselves in the robes and sat on several futons that had been positioned across the room, waiting for Rose and Veles to join them.

  Rose took a step back from the god, hinting at her clothes drenched in gore.

  Veles shook his head. “I don't fucking care.”

  He crossed the distance in a blur, cupping her face in his palms. She stared into the green embers of his eyes which spoke not of power, but affection.

  “Okay, but at least no kissing until I brush my teeth. I still have bits of dead werewolf in them.”

  The god's deep laugh rolled over her skin in a warm caress. “Like I said, I don't fucking care.”

  He pulled her to him, pressing their bodies tightly together until there was nothing between them but the thin line of clothing. Rose felt the touch of his lips, the power trickling from one body to another in tune with their affections.

  She came up for air, her mind slightly dazed. “You always tasted good, but what was that?”

  He trailed the lines of her features with his fingers, studying her with a soft smile spread across his face. “Your powers have grown, Rosalind.”

  She heard a snicker from behind. She turned, knitting her eyebrows together in a frown to find Jürgen sprawled across a futon, the hem of his robe flowing dangerously high over his muscular thighs.

  “Now, now, Rosalind, hasn't your grandmother taught you your face will freeze like that if you don't smooth out those wrinkles? It isn't becoming of a lady.”

  Even Rose had to appreciate the effort Jürgen had put into saying those words without drowning in laughter, but she wasn't about to let it slip that easily. She pulled a knife out of her wrist sheath before Jürgen could even grasp what was going on and threw it into the futon, letting it sink into the material directly between the werewolf's spread legs.

  “Next one will be higher.” Rose grinned, knowing the cliché would fit in well with the show.

  She wasn't mistaken; Jürgen cracked up, tears beginning to well in his eyes. And in that moment, any leftover tension from the fight drained away with the werewolf's laughter. Even Zarja, who had been unusually quiet, seemed to gain some ease from Jürgen's uncontrollable emotional release. Rose eyed the were discreetly, studying Zarja's body language. In light of her own little reunion with Veles, she had nearly forgotten how the werewolf had frozen at the sight of the approaching enemy lines. But she knew better than to push her for an explanation; something had locked itself inside Zarja, and would need time to resurface.

  The room began to vibrate with easy chatter, everybody ignoring the corpse lying in the middle of the carpet, the blood creating a small puddle around the head. Rose stalked over to the impromptu washbasin, then half-turned her body to Veles, who had followed her across the space and had been standing idly behind her back, just far enough to give her some room, yet keeping close so that the warmth of his presence still touched her skin.

  “What, no robe for me? I know I promised that my corporeal form will have some fun with you when I get back, but that didn't include an audience.” She smiled.

  Veles wrapped his arms around her, brushing the side of her face with his. “I have something special laid out for you in the other room.”

  She wanted to argue that a robe would have been enough, but he stopped her before she could even utter the first word.

  “The outfit you are wearing now is slightly more complex than bare skin.” His gaze swept over her clothes. “Although I wouldn't mind running my hands over the latter even at this very moment.”

  He kissed her bloodstained cheek, and Rose could feel his lips had pulled into a smile.

  “You know, unless you want me to burn away your clothes in front of your pack, you'll need more time to slip out of them. Besides, I thought you might appreciate keeping your weapons on you, and a robe isn't proper attire for carrying a small arsenal on your person.”

  The god had a point; even if they were in a safe place, she didn't like the thought of leaving her blades lying around. Not that she didn't trust the pack or even Veles, for that matter. It was more of a personal attitude in relation to her weapons. If you take care of them, they will take care of you, her mother had told her at an early age, and she had lived by the rule ever since.

  “Thank you.” She leaned into the god, sinking into his embrace. “I'll be right back. Please try not to make the twins pee their...robes...on my account.”

  Veles let out a deep laugh, pulling the werewolf into a kiss before she broke away to leave him and the werewolves to their, probably teasing, chatter.

  The other room was what appeared to be the master bedroom. Clothes had been laid out on the four-poster bed, along with an assortment of new sheaths. Rose smiled as she traced her fingers over the perfectly crafted pieces of leather made to carry exactly the weapons she had on her body. She was almost frightened by the thought of how well the god knew her, yet the comfort and warmth of it surmounted the negative emotion. Her sheaths were soaked with blood and bits of flesh that seemed to have stuck to the surface and were practically screaming for a replacement. She undid them, taking out each weapon, and laid them down on a low mahogany table placed by the foot of the bed.

  She grabbed the pile of clothes, holding them carefully so as not to transfer any of the gore that clung to her body, and walked over to the adjacent bathroom. The other weres wouldn't mind her taking a shower; they understood that in her half-shifted form, without fur to shield her skin, she would always end up more bloodied than the rest of them. The fur that emerged from their bodies had a way of cleaning itself during the shift back, which saved them a lot of trouble after a good hunt in the woods, not to mention after an actual fight. It was the one thing Rose truly missed when choosing a half shift over a complete one.

  She turned on the hot water, adjusting it to the perfect temperature before stepping into the shower. A pool of crimson formed at her feet, slowly losing its vibrant color as the current carried it towards the drain. She was glad Veles had been considerate enough to prepare a bath scrub; the remains of enemy werewolves stuck to her skin with vile stubbornness.

  She rubbed them off, tryi
ng not to be too forceful, but not exactly wincing if the price of getting the dirt off her meant having blotches of slightly red and irritated skin. When she had successfully scrubbed away the last brownish stain, she let the water pour over her for a few more minutes, taking with it the last lingering smells of battle.

  She slipped into the tight black pants Veles had prepared for her, the fabric similar to the pair he had already procured for her once before, only thinner; they felt like a second skin, but one that wouldn't scuff or tear. The tank top that went with it had the same quality to it and was as formfitting as the lower part of the outfit. Rose let her hair fall down in wet heaps over her shoulders, the dampness creating a pleasingly cool sensation, calming her body after the almost scalding shower. She walked out of the bedroom, wanting to strap on her weapons and join the pack, but she found that one-seventh of said pack had already found her instead.

  Zarja was sitting on the edge of the four-poster bed, one of her legs curled under her while the other swung off the mattress. The way she was wrapped in her robe made her look vulnerable, and that was not something Rose had ever attributed to the werewolf, much less something Zarja would willingly give off.

  “Zarja?” she asked the were who had been staring intently at a distant spot on the floor, not even noticing Rose as she walked into the room.

  Zarja lifted her gaze, fixing it on Rose's face. “I saw him.”

  Rose didn't want to ask, didn't want to hear the answer she knew would follow, and more than anything, she didn't want to pass on what Veles had told her, not in a situation like this. But she knew Zarja well enough, and even if she hadn't seen the tormented expression weighing down on her features, the mere fact that the werewolf had come to her spoke of a pressing need to share what troubled her mind.

  Rose sat down next to Zarja on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs on the cool fabric stretched across the mattress and strapped one of the wrist sheaths on to overcome her own discomfort. “That's why you froze? You saw Libor?”