by Gaja J. Kos
“He really loves his grandpa,” Evelin added in a soft voice before she returned to the couch, sitting down cross-legged.
Although everybody had agreed it was the right move for her and Mark to adopt the orphaned White werewolf, she was nevertheless glad to see just how truly, wholly accepted he was by her stepparents.
Rafael was family to them as much as he was to her.
It wasn’t that Evelin had ever doubted them—Nikolai and Nadia had taken her in after her mother’s death and had raised her as their own. But despite her personal history with the couple, she understood that bringing up a White cub was fundamentally different from raising a Black one.
Rafael would always be stuck in animal form, even though his mind would develop as a human’s would. The discrepancy between the brain and the body tended to put a strain on the parents. And it required a strict dedication to the cub’s upbringing.
Yet her stepparents didn’t mind and actually even offered for Rafael to stay with them until Mark finished fortifying his house for the White were’s needs and security.
During the past couple of weeks, Evelin had already moved most of her belongings to Mark’s place, but neither of them wanted to risk Rafael living in the house until they were certain everything was in perfect condition. Although his residence was secluded well enough for nobody to coincidentally spot the White werewolf even if they were outside, they still had to take some additional measures.
With the poachers continuously hunting the endangered species, tighter security was a necessity.
The standard fortified basement had failed to keep Evelin’s sister safe when the profit-driven werewolves broke into her family’s home and kidnapped Mila. They sold her white, untouched coat on the black market, and Evelin swore to herself that Rafael would never be subjected to such a situation, with Mark firmly backing up her resolution.
Nikolai’s phone rang. Evelin’s gaze snapped from the sleeping cub to her stepfather, who had already begun to answer. She listened to the polite manner of conversation and noticed Nikolai becoming more relaxed with every exchange he and the policeman shared. Having a were sister-in-law had clearly made the human somewhat more open to disclosing classified information with pack and ex-pack members.
Still, Nikolai treaded carefully. “And you’re certain your partner won’t take the activity to notice?”
“He’s a rookie.” Evelin heard the other man’s rich voice coming from the phone. “He won’t notice shit.”
A heartfelt laugh followed the comment, and Nikolai echoed it. Rough men on the age of retirement truly didn’t need long to take a liking to each other.
Evelin shook her head, observing the sincere amusement resting on Nikolai’s face; she was certain she would be seeing the policeman at one of the regular dinners her stepparents threw for friends in the very near future.
“I’ll swing by the station after we’re done with the baby shower,” the man said. “I can get the first two files for you tonight. The third might be slightly harder.”
Evelin looked at Nikolai in surprise almost at the same time the were reacted, his features turning hard. “What third?”
“My partner is just finishing with the crime scene. From what he told me, same MO as the first two vics.” He paused, releasing a sigh. “Since it’s his report, I’m not sure I’ll be able to make copies of it today. Tomorrow at the latest, okay?”
“That will be fine, thank you,” Nikolai said, but Evelin could barely follow his words any longer.
Her mind had already begun processing the fact that another vampire was killed in less than twenty-four hours. She needed to alert the pack that they just might have more panicked vampires on their hands in case word of the latest victim spread through the community.
Lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t noticed that Nikolai had already finished his call.
The werewolf walked over to her, holding Rafael securely in one arm and a note in the other. Evelin took the piece of paper, her gaze going over the address that had been written down in Nikolai’s immaculate handwriting.
“The newest victim,” Nikolai said in a quiet voice, clearly bothered by the spree of murders that had fallen upon the twentyfourhourly community. “Tomo only asks that you contact the victim’s relatives after the police have cleared the scene.”
Despite the distress Evelin felt at the thought of another body, she couldn’t keep a small smile from tugging at her lips as she looked at the comforting features of her stepfather.
He was on a first-name basis with the policeman.
No, the dinner invitation most certainly wouldn’t escape Tomo now.
Chapter 6
“How come you didn’t mention the vampire killings to me?” Rose asked, her fingertip lazily exploring the well-defined lines of Veles's chest as she lay on her side, taking in the sight of the god’s almost too perfect profile.
“Their deaths are not mine to sense,” he answered calmly, without even opening his eyes.
Rose cocked her head to the side. After the dread Veles had exhibited all those months ago, she was surprised to see him so indifferent.
Last summer—when he had realized he couldn’t sense the souls that the wolf-man’s toxin had ripped from the werewolves’ bodies—the god had been afraid of the attack on his reign that the threat represented.
But even more so, Veles had been afraid for the lost spirits. Afraid for their well-being. Their peace.
Not being aware that someone had died shouldn’t have been something the god took so lightly.
Rose turned over on her stomach, her mass of strawberry blonde curls flowing wildly with the movement. She braced her head on her hands, peering at the god. “Why doesn’t that bother you?”
Veles opened his eyes, his gaze following the gentle curve of Rose’s back. His voice seemed distant, preoccupied with other, much more pleasurable ideas as he finally answered, “It has always been like that. I have found no cause for alarm concerning this blind spot in the duration of my existence.”
He slithered closer, his lips traveling down her back at a slow, seductive pace. She was tempted to let the god continue, to give herself into the sensation as his mouth followed the natural flow of her body—which would inevitably bring him over the full curve of her buttocks, and the liquid heat pooling in the vee of her thighs. But the pack-oriented, information-driven side of her couldn’t let the case rest just yet.
With a lithe twist of her body, she moved just out of his reach, but not too far as to not be able to trap the god in an embrace of her own. He breathed out something close to a purr as his head came to rest on the mound of her breasts, and she couldn’t resist placing a kiss on top of the god’s sleek, black hair.
“You know you have to tell me more now, don’t you?” she whispered, ending the question with another kiss.
Now, the god certainly did purr, his voice saturated with the kind of allure only he could pull off. “What do I get in return?”
Rose took a deep breath in mock dissatisfaction, pressing her breasts tighter against his cheek.
“I accept,” the god murmured. His eyes closed in a wave of content as he snuggled against her chest. “Vampires are undead—not my favorite word since it implies the they-don’t-have-a-soul bullshit, but it will have to suffice for now. Their race most certainly isn’t soulless. It’s merely that vampiric spirits originate from the underworld, unlike yours, which is the fruit of life.”
Rose nodded, absentmindedly stroking the sleek texture of his hair. She was much less cautious when it came to asking about immortal knowledge since she had become a metaphysical power of her own; and especially since her new status meant dealing with souls on a regular basis.
She figured her probing was unlikely to cross the line.
She curled a perfect black strand around her finger, her eyebrows knitted together in thought. “But if they belong to the underworld—even if they exist here—shouldn’t that mean that you have the ability to feel them at a
ll times?”
The god smiled, but there was something else lurking beneath the innocent expression, something she wasn’t quite able to figure out.
Veles’s words were casual as he spoke. “Not if they come from me, I can’t.”
Tim was sitting in his brother’s office when he received Evelin’s call, alerting him to the latest murder. Although the bond of The Dark Ones made any other means of communication unnecessary, the werewolves had a hard time letting go of old habits, particularly of something as fundamental as mobile phones.
Tim’s mind was focused on listening to Evelin’s news concerning the recent developments, but still he found himself unable to block the strong smell of disinfectant that saturated the air. It prickled at his senses, making him curl his nose in disgust.
Nathaniel shot covert grins in his brother’s direction—the werewolf’s reaction to his work space never ceased to amuse the human, especially since all the other pack members had confirmed the whole odor situation wasn’t even that bad. However, it didn’t stop Tim from complaining every single time he stepped into the room, and then some.
“Third body?” Nathaniel asked, repositioning the seams of his white coat over his shoulders before he leaned back against the empty workstation, any traces of his snickering now gone.
He crossed his arms across his chest, the movement making Nathaniel’s muscular body even more pronounced. With that display of strength, Tim knew Nathaniel already had a plan.
“If the primary M.E. is off duty, which I think he is, maybe I can jump the gun once they bring the body in.”
Tim ruffled his dark blond hair and give his brother a skeptical stare. “Shouldn’t an M.E. already be at the crime scene?”
“Yeah.” Nathaniel smiled with a hint of wicked sparking up in his eyes. Something demonic seeped through the calm scientist façade. “But if it’s Novak on duty, I can muscle him into stepping down.”
Tim’s face froze in mock outrage. “You’re supposed to be the good one of the Vidmar brothers! I’ll let grandma know she’d been praising the wrong damn grandson all these years.”
“And cut me off from her exquisite strudel supply?” Nathaniel returned the expression before he burst into laughter. “You still have a lot of things to learn, little brother.”
He patted Tim on the shoulder, which earned him a menacing growl in return. Nathaniel smiled wider, pulling his still growling brother in a tight hug. Tim shook his head when they stepped apart, but was unable to contain the laughter.
He had known Nathaniel was as protective as they came when anything pertaining to science was on the table, but imagining his brother intimidating others into handing over their research materials, or dead bodies for that matter, was something else.
“Sometimes I wonder if you’re truly human and not one of Chernobog’s subordinates,” he said in between the laughs, imagining the rough world of science geeks.
Nathaniel raised one eyebrow, trying his best to keep a serious face. “If I’ll be able to get you the body, does it even matter?”
The question was answered with a playful punch to the shoulder, courtesy of Tim. “Shut up and get to work, will you...?”
Nathaniel squeezed in one final grin before Tim walked out of the clean-smelling office, knowing his brother was already calculating the best possible approach to corner Novak into handing over the newest body.
“Medium brown hair, cut short to the scalp. Yes, short with narrow shoulders,” Jürgen reported into his phone. “You could say that he looks like a petty excuse for a human being, yeah.”
“Excellent,” a satisfied voice came from the other side of the line. “It’s Novak all right...”
“Does that mean we get the body?” the blond werewolf retorted with a wide, feral grin transforming his face.
Nathaniel’s chuckle came over the receiver. “Oh, yes, the body is ours.”
Jürgen shook his head, his shoulders shaking beneath the leather jacket. He had never heard this kind of mischievous tone come from Tim’s brother before.
And it was hilarious.
The human clearly had no love for the latest addition to the M.E.’s office; and judging by the hot-shot manner in which the pathologist carried himself as he strutted around the victim’s yard, shouting commands in every possible direction, Jürgen could see why.
Nathaniel was allergic to bloated egos, and this man would without a doubt make a remarkable poster boy for it.
“How much longer do you think we’ll be freezing our asses off?” Jens asked once his brother was done with the phone call.
They had been running surveillance on the house ever since Evelin let them know they had a third victim on their hands. Which had been quite some time ago. The pack had wanted someone with the victim’s relatives the moment the police left, not daring to give them a chance to rattle up the rest of the vamp community.
And so far, luck had been on their side. The grieving parents were unable to pick up the phone, the police constantly bombarding them with their cascade of questions.
“With our luck, we’ll be freezing our asses off even after everybody goes inside,” Jürgen growled, but there was a playful undertone to his comment.
The twins were used to being on parameter check, bouncer duty, basically any kind of position that gave them the chance to look menacing and engage in a fight if the opportunity for it arose. The handsome, muscled blonds, who were nothing less than perfect eye candy in casual situations, could instantly transform into two figures one would think very, very hard about before pissing off.
“Movement,” Jens murmured, nodding towards the house.
Novak and his flunkies had loaded the body into the van and hurried off, the police slowly packing their gear as well. Some of them even began walking towards their cars, the lights flashing as they unlocked the vehicles.
The twins locked their gazes on the interior of the house, reading the body language of the couple sitting on the sofa, their shoulders touching for at least the minute amount of comfort the innocent gesture offered. The pair showed no intention of moving, which meant they wouldn’t be driven down to the station for a statement.
It made the werewolves’ job much easier.
The lead detective first shook the man’s hand, then tipped his head as he spoke to the woman. He clamped shut his notepad and secured it with an elastic band that was attached to it before he stuffed the black booklet inside his coat pocket.
“Well, well, looks like we won’t be freezing our assess off after all,” Jürgen commented under his breath, shooting his brother a sideways glance. “Zarja is at least ten minutes out, the rest of them even longer...”
The police officers trickled out of the house one by one, and the twins moved closer, ready to enter the moment the two grieving parents were left alone. They were determined not to give them even a second’s chance to reach out to someone in the vamp community.
Terrorizing the victim’s relatives if they began to dial their friends was something the twins were eager to avoid, but would condone should the need arise. Still, they began to move, hoping their plan would succeed.
A cypress fence surrounded the yard, giving the two werewolves the perfect cover. The police were already leaving the scene, which made them somewhat more oblivious to their surroundings.
The twins never understood why people were so eager to drop their guard once a task had been favorably performed. It left them wide open and vulnerable. But on this particular occasion, neither of them were complaining.
Jens nodded to his brother, and Jürgen silently stalked around the house, reaching the abandoned back door.
With the bond of The Dark Ones surging between them, Jens would have no problem signaling to his twin to knock the very instant the last policeman left the house. Besides, he needed to continue with his surveillance at the front side, in case one of the parents decided to linger back and reach for the phone instead of answering the door. He prayed to Belobog that it wouldn’t
happen.
The north side of the building was submerged in perpetual shadows, forcing Jürgen to rub his hands together in hopes of fighting the frigid sensation that tried to creep all the way down to his bones.
Like all werewolves, he loved the winter months.
But humidity and the coldest season of the year didn’t mix well. Especially if you had to stand in one place for a longer stretch of time.
And in Ljubljana, the damp, clinging chill was essentially the only kind of winter they knew.
He bared his teeth into the empty space in front of him, waiting for his brother to finally give the signal.
Clear. Jens’s voice came through the bond not a breath later, snapping Jürgen out of the hostile trance the cold weather had trapped him into.
He knocked on the solid wood, firmly, yet at the same time being careful to not let it sound threatening. He stretched his senses.
Rustle of movement.
And two separate sets of footsteps.
Jürgen grinned into the closed door just as his twin’s voice sounded. Got 'em, bro.
Chapter 7
“What do you mean they come from you?” Rose breathed and pushed her body upwards, causing the god to slide off her. Lazily, he repositioned himself on his back, tucking the pillow underneath his head to be able to observe her with more ease.
“I thought you’d never ask,” Veles teased, showing off his pearl-white fangs.
It was true—the question had been bogging inside Rose’s mind ever since she was absolutely certain Veles could lengthen his canines into fangs. However, at that time, she had been too busy tracking down and blasting into oblivion the wretched wolf-man who threatened the world with war.
Asking about fangs wasn’t one of her highest priorities.
And after, when things had finally quieted down and the two of them began to spend more time together, the initial curiosity faded. Rose was left somewhat more focused on the pleasure the fangs could provide, not the specifics of how those sharp teeth came to be.
