by Gaja J. Kos
“How can you not blame me?”
Katja winced, likely at the pain that saturated Rose’s words. She shook her head, glancing at the woods that stretched beyond Mark and Evelin’s premises.
“If I blamed you, then I could just as well blame myself for not realizing who Perko truly was all that time, for not seeing that he took advantage of Damir’s death to fuel his own plans... It wouldn’t be fair to punish myself for that. Neither you nor I should carry all that guilt.”
Rose nodded, her own eyes trailing the densely grown trees. Katja was right; but it was one thing to acknowledge a fact and quite the other to actually accept it with all your being.
Rose wasn’t certain she ever could. Not completely.
“How does the vampire community feel?” she asked, changing the subject to something equally painful, yet less intimate.
Katja’s jaw tensed, her eyes turning a shade darker. “There are some of us who see the situation for what it is. We understand that you have no desire to exercise your power over us. It’s temporary—we do not believe you will use it while it lasts. And the only person we condemn is Vaclav. He betrayed our kind, used us as pawns in his game. As if the end could justify the means.
“But there are others... Dragan has come around since then, he truly has, and feels terrible about it. But as soon as he was able to communicate with the outside world, he practically screamed of how close he had come to death by the hands of a werewolf that liked to play god.
“Sorry.” Katja grimaced, peering sideways at Rose. “I thought it’d be best for you to hear it coming from me.”
Rose sighed, exhaling a long whiff of smoke, but motioned for the vampire to continue.
“Dragan gained quite a few sympathizers in those early days. He’s been fighting alongside the rest of us to calm them down, but it seems his words don’t carry the weight to sway them any longer. Not like they had before. They want blood, Rose,” Katja seethed, her eyebrows coming together. “But the notion doesn’t come from revenge. It comes from fear.”
Although Rose figured as much, the confirmation stung nonetheless. “So what’s the verdict?”
Katja’s lips were pulled into a tight line, her breathing deepened to control the anger. “The majority is afraid, but won’t act against you. Our numbers are currently higher than of those who proclaim your existence a threat to our kind. But...but they’re louder in their demands. Their outrage carries seeds to be planted in the fearful majority, luring them on their side. And even on their own, even without the additional support of our kin…
“They turned to other races, Rose. Selling them the exact kind of lunacy Vaclav advocated. That there is a new world order coming. That none of them are safe... That you, or in some versions even your pack, will condemn them all.
“It’s bullshit,” Katja hissed, taking Rose’s hand in her own. “Such fucking bullshit.”
Their fingers entwined, and a blend of determination and calmness washed over the vampire’s features. The two women stood in silence, the gentle vine of a growing friendship bonding them as they stared at the woods, which had now become covered with a delicate layer of darkness.
“I’m doing and will continue to do everything in my power to keep the vamp assholes at bay,” Katja finally said, their gazes connecting.
As broken as Rose was, a spark kindled somewhere deep inside her, Katja’s warmth and understanding fueling its light.
“And if the worst happens, I’ll be there, fighting right alongside you.”
Chapter 31.5
Evelin rubbed the towel down her skin, picking up the last stray droplets. The vile stench of the Upir’s magic had clung to her fur and—surprisingly—transferred to her skin. Few things did. Even moderate amounts of blood splatter failed to penetrate the thick coat and were gone once she shifted back into human form.
This stench was—it was wrong.
Evelin shuddered at the thought. She had been standing under the steady stream of water for twenty minutes before the remnants of Vaclav began to ease out of her pores, replaced by a different, gentler scent. One she had noticed just this morning.
Last morning, she corrected herself, glancing at the clock positioned on the very edge of the glass shelf.
Her shelf.
In the bathroom she and Mark now shared, with a large new tub designed to clean even the dirtiest little cub.
Cubs.
Evelin ran her hand across her stomach. Cubs.
Her abdomen was still taut, muscles rippling as she moved, yet it was different. The faintest curve had begun to show, her womb accommodating the new resident. A little Black one who would be loved and protected. And given the life her sister never had.
She toweled down her hair, letting the damp strands fall down her bare shoulders.
Vaclav was dead. The pack could go back to their lives, to their rhythm. She could wrap up the details still left to tweak here and there inside the house. And she could finally tell Mark.
The werewolf wouldn’t have ordered her to miss out on the Upir’s takedown, but it would have killed him every second they had spent in that factory. Mark may just bite her head off for deliberately keeping the news to herself, but it had been the wisest choice to make.
Evelin chuckled.
He’d get over it.
And she could live with getting snarled at by knowing the secret had kept Mark vigilant. Kept him safe.
Tossing the towel over the rack, Evelin wrapped herself in a plush bathing gown and stalked outside. She followed the captivating scent of the man she loved across the house until she found him lounging on the couch, his eyes half closed as if he had just been drifting in and out of sleep. His dark hair was ruffled, the silver strands shining beautifully in the soft light of the small lamp set beside the couch; his features were still carrying the weight of the past few days, yet they were relaxed. Peaceful.
She walked across the floor, her footsteps silent. Mark noticed her as she approached, willing his heavy eyelids to lift. He looked at her with that drowsy gaze that softened the deep brown of his eyes, the corners of his lips curling into a smile. The same smile that Evelin returned even as her heart skipped a beat at the sight of the gorgeous man.
She slithered next to him, wiggling her hips to push Mark against the couch and make some room for herself. The werewolf let out a low laugh, clearly amused by her endeavors. He propped his head on his right hand and placed his left on her back, drawing lazy circles across the soft fabric of her gown.
Her eyes caught his gaze, and she couldn’t help but chuckle at how adorable he was—like a cub, fighting to stay awake, yet failing miserably. “Will I have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you to bed?”
A snarl of outrage spilled from his lips, but even the sound carried a sleepy, soft essence. “Don’t tease me, Ev. I’m awake,” he mumbled the split second before his eyelids dropped back down.
She snickered which caused his eyes to fly wide open yet again. Well, as wide as was possible for the sleeping beauty.
“What?” he snarled.
“You were sleeping!”
“Was not.”
“Liar.”
A light snore vibrated in his throat as she chuckled again, running her fingers through the thick, delicious beard of her werewolf. Her lips brushed against his, Mark’s grip around her tightening in response.
“I love you,” the werewolf whispered into her kiss.
“I love you, too.”
Evelin curled into his embrace, resting her head on his chest. She listened to the steady rhythm of his breaths, the strong yet calm beating of his heart—how unlike it was compared to the pounding inside her chest.
She nuzzled at his neck until the werewolf shouted foul play and spun them around in a single, effortless move. His legs pinned her down on the couch, his massive frame looming over her.
A satisfied grin played on his lips, almost daring her to fight back.
“I told you I wasn’t sleepin
g. Besides”—he grinned—“with Rafael staying with Nadia and Nikolai, we have the house to ourselves.”
Evelin bit her lip.
Now was as good a time as any.
It was why she wanted to wake him in the first place.
She exhaled, her gaze meeting Mark’s. “Not all to ourselves, exactly.”
He angled his head, the corners of his lips falling down slightly in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Just—just smell me, Mark.”
The werewolf lifted an eyebrow, but obliged without further questions. His beard grazed her soft skin as he took in her scent. Her delicately altered scent.
His eyes grew wide as he pulled back, the smile reappearing.
“Ev,” he breathed, the brown shade of his eyes glimmering. “Oh, Ev.”
He captured her lips in a hungry embrace, pushing them apart with his tongue and finding her own, their flavors mixing in a flurry of strokes. She felt his tears on her cheeks, felt them blend with those she now dared to release. They kissed until they were gasping for air, until their mouths couldn’t contain the smiles any longer.
“Good thing we remodeled the house.” The older were chuckled.
He kissed her nose, her cheeks, her forehead, until he drowned her beneath the soft caresses of his mouth, unwilling to let her go. She wiggled underneath him, bouts of laughter escaping from her as she tried to hide beneath his massive frame.
But his embrace was unyielding.
Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more kisses, when her skin burned so tenderly where his beard had touched it, the werewolf lifted his torso, his eyes finding hers.
There was nothing but love in his gaze. Nothing but the purest affection.
And Evelin knew her child—their child—would feel just as loved.
Thank you for reading THE 24HOURLIES
If you enjoyed the book, I kindly invite you to read Chased, a novella set in the months after the events shown in The 24hourlies had transpired. Starring two of my beloved characters—Jürgen and Katja! Alternatively, you can skip the novella and follow the pack as they regroup in The Shift.
For more info and buy links, please visit the series website or keep on reading the main storyline in The Shift.
The Shift
Copyright © 2017 Gaja J. Kos
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
For my grandma.
* * *
Thank you for all the talks we've had and all the delicious meals you've cooked.
* * *
I'm lucky to have you in my life.
Chapter 1
The reek of death was overwhelming. There was no breeze to dilute the air, no stirring of the currents to make it even remotely breathable. The metallic tang of blood prickled Rose’s nose full force until the festering stench of loosened bowels threatened to turn her stomach.
But she was too tired to block it out, too tired to throw that small bit of energy into shielding her senses.
Rose lifted her arm and found a fairly clean area of skin to wipe away the crimson liquid from her eyes before it began to cake. The vampires’ blood smeared across her forearm, appearing almost black in the twilight of what would become a starless night. She crawled against the wall, savoring the cold stucco that caressed her back as she leaned on it.
This was the third time.
The third time in this bloody month that she had been ambushed. And just like before, none of her attackers had walked away.
But the bastards were getting bolder.
Eight bodies were splayed down the length of the narrow alley—limbs and heads torn from their broken torsos and cradled in a gentle river of crimson.
Rose would have to leave Tomo a message. Again. She hated herself for involving the policeman, but the officer understood, never thinking twice before sending aid. And she truly needed it this time.
The alley lay on the border between Ljubljana’s old town and the stretch of newer buildings that led to the suburbs, which was far from ideal on its own. But with it being so damn close to the central train station that was always packed with people, someone was bound to notice the blood even if her pack cleared away the bodies and mess to the best of their abilities.
Luckily, Tomo had a contact in the crime scene cleanup crew. A trustworthy contact that had been dating a werewolf for the past five years.
His choice of love interest guaranteed the man was no stranger to carnage. Especially when not done in self-defense, since his boyfriend was running with a pack that had it somewhat rough over the years. Rose was vaguely aware of the problems—she was certain Mark had mentioned them before, but her mind refused to provide the proper details.
Not that it truly mattered. Petty, low-key wars the regular weres residing on the outskirts tended to get into meant little when maintaining the wider supernatural community a secret began to present itself as a nearly impossible task. If the packs planned on continuing with their stubborn ways, Rose wasn’t going to stop them. Jarilo, she had enough pressing issues of her own to deal with.
The only thing that still counted was keeping every whiff of supernatural activity out of sight.
She didn’t want to think what would happen if suddenly every myth—still present or long forgotten—became an active part of the humans’ reality. Tomo was saving their asses more than the man could possibly know.
But eventually, even his aid wouldn’t be enough. Not at the rate things seemed to be developing.
Rose groaned as she shifted against the wall and glanced over the remains of her attackers. Four of them had been traditionals, four twentyfourhourlies. And damn it all to Chernobog, but she had hesitated when the assholes had cut off both exits of the alley, cornering her.
Seeing the vampires that were perceived as civil, that were Katja’s kin, gang up on her with those nightmarish creatures had made Rose pause.
She didn’t want to slaughter twentyfourhourlies. Even when their alliance with the orthodox vamps was so painfully clear.
It was why Rose had attacked the traditionals first, cutting into them like a whirlwind of claws and teeth. She hadn’t allowed herself to think, hadn’t given her brain a chance to process anything but her next strike. In close quarters such as the alley, there was no room for evasive maneuvers, no space to separate the vamps and take them down one by one.
Left with no other choice, Rose had slashed at them with unbarred hostility and coated herself in their foul blood. Yet the civil vampires hadn’t been discouraged by her display of lethal strength. Not in the least.
The four had jumped her from behind, leaving Rose barely enough time to block the worst of their attack. She had flung one of them against the wall with a powerful kick to the side, her claws sinking just beneath the collarbone of the other and slashing across his chest.
Rose shook her head, wincing at the memory.
She had been outnumbered.
So disgustingly outnumbered and put at a disadvantage because she bloody waited.
All because of some damned empathy or, perhaps—worst of all—hope.
The twentyfourhourlies were the easier target. She should have taken them down the moment the fuckers had appeared behind her back.
Blowing out a breath, Rose shifted against the stucco. The coolness acted like a balm on the wounds the remaining two twentyfourhourlies had left her as a parting gift. Tearing through cloth and skin, their fangs had mangled her flesh as if they had wanted to devour her whole. If Rose had been human, she would have already been dead. Or, at best, walked away with several ugly mounds of scar tissu
e to keep her company for the rest of her life.
But even as her back had stung and bled, she had finished them all, turning the vampires into nothing but heaps of carrion.
In the deathly silence of the alley, Rose turned her head towards the night sky and swore.
Chapter 2
Tim brought Rose a change of clothes. It was one of those easy-to-shift-in outfits, soft and comfortable—something Rose undoubtedly needed—but there was nothing to be done about the blood that had stuck to her skin. It peeked from underneath the clean-smelling oversized sweatshirt where it had caked on her hands, the splatter on her neck and face forming a macabre painting. Although darkness had already descended, Rose couldn’t walk down Ljubljana’s streets in her current state. Not without getting unwanted attention.
Even with the speed of his bike on his side, Tim would have to steer clear of stoplights and busy intersections where his bloodied passenger could be spotted all too easily under the yellow streetlamps. Hopefully, the roads would be emptier by the time Mark arrived.
Rose had promised the were she would help him load the mangled bodies into his truck in those minutes before Tim reached her. Not that he would be able to talk her out of it even if he had been there sooner. Moving the corpses was a two-were job if they wanted to be fast, and time certainly wasn’t something they had to spare.
The sooner Mark dumped the remains in the woods—some location the were had found a while ago and was positive couldn’t be discovered—the better. The fifteen minutes they were stuck here, guarding the corpses as their pack mate drove from the suburbs, was nerve-wracking enough.
Rose went to stand at one end of the alley, monitoring and blocking the entrance, while Tim did the same on the opposite side. He kept one eye on the werewolf, observing Rose’s cautious movements as she tried to avoid getting any more blood on the gray sweats.
