Callie's Guardian: White Tigers of Brigantia (Book 1) by Lisa Daniels (59)

Chapter Two

In the dead of night, Evo walked with his older sister, and they basked in the gentle light of a full moon.  Both of them wielded their guns, imbued with vanadium-tainted bullets and silencers.  He preferred a Springfield XDM Compact, enjoying the increased round usage and accuracy it offered.  Sometimes, he and his sister went to the shooting range to practise their accuracy, and it always turned into a murder-fest of paper, with numerous bullet holes peppering their targets.

He talked with her, all the while daydreaming of Luelle Armanev.  Those green irises cut into him like spring grass, heavy with the reminiscence of summer.  Her voice was soft, measured, providing a sense of music into the air, and igniting a ball of desire tight in his belly.  Already his lust-fuelled mind drifted to fantasies, sometimes sweet, sometimes obscene.  It didn't matter that she belonged to another werewolf – she clearly hated his guts.

Evo planned to kill Heigan and claim her properly for himself.  If, of course, she liked him enough.  He suspected she might not react well to being pin-balled out of one marriage and straight into another.

I want her, he shivered, breathing in deep, fighting to control the besotted emotions infecting his brain.  He wanted Luelle to look at him with love, to have her gasp beneath him as they shared body and soul together, perhaps with both of them consumed by passion.  He wanted to grab her by the hair and yank her neck back, bite into it and screw her roughly. 

His sister caught some of the tension in his face, for she clapped him on the back and smirked.  “Well, well, little brother.  You're not by any chance thinking about Luelle, are you?”

Evo grunted.  “Perhaps.  You smell different, by the way.  I can't quite put my finger upon it.”

“Must be all the sex I'm getting,” Frey responded, as she reached for a cigarette from her pocket, struck the lighter to it and lit up.  Her hands trembled, however, belying something else under her nonchalant demeanour.  “For real, though, I keep having this weird taste in my mouth, like someone's shoved a wad of pennies in it.  Kinda feel like chain smoking just to forget about it.”

“You don't think you're falling sick, are you?”  Evo snapped out of thoughts of Luelle long enough to focus on his sister.

“Not sure.  We'll see.”  She took a deep drag of her cigarette, watching the smoke furl out of her lungs.  “Speaking of seeing – there's been some sightings not so far off from Sapareva Banya of a bunch of werewolves, numbers unknown, and it sounds like they know there's a sanctuary in this province.  Just not where.”

“Well then, we might need to move Luelle after all!” Evo exclaimed, concern spiking his system.  There were only five werewolves in the hotel and four guards.  Elinor certainly couldn't be expected to stay at the hotel when she had her people to organize for security and contacts in the upper mountains and the city regions.  Evo didn't think, however, that their small hotel and the people at their command could cope with a small scale invasion – if any of them wielded guns.  Especially Frey.  For all of Frey's bravery and show of bravado, Evo knew that when it came to any sort of physical conflict, her fragile body would be no match for the savagery of a feral.

Images of his beloved sister, torn apart from limb to limb pervaded his consciousness.  He resisted the urge to retch.  He also knew persuading Frey to get the hell out would greet him with a middle finger and an expletive, and a curse to mind his own business.

Problem is, Evo thought wryly to himself, if she dies, I honestly don't know what I should do with my life.  Everything that I am today is because of her.  And that's the truth.

It uplifted and depressed him in the same moment.  Truth be told, he expected to forge a path of his own with Frey, perhaps one day be in charge of numerous hotels around the world for werewolves to take refuge in. and attach the Radev name to that. 

With the introduction of Luelle into his life, it changed everything.  First seeing her as that battered husk shocked him to the soul.  Werewolf injuries healed fast, and to have that many bruises and wounds suggested that she endured beatings for days and weeks at a time.

Those bastards.

His nose caught something in the air.  It made him alert, even as his breath frosted in the cold night, puffing along with Frey's cigarette.  “I smell a werewolf.  Unfamiliar.”

Frey casually put her hand onto her Taurus, still smoking away.  “Retreat or inspect?”

“Inspect, of course.  Could be a scout,” Evo snarled.  He briefly considered asking Frey to head back to the hotel.  Eventually he settled on gesturing her to follow, and fingered his own small handgun.  Proud, older werewolves considered guns scummy and weak, and whilst it was true that the metal itched uncomfortably in Evo's hands, it gave an edge over his kind when physical combat failed.

The scent emanated from the central park, where a grandstand for outdoor theater and other entertainments stood, and a statue oversaw the hissing and banging of the geyser beneath, mixing the unpleasant scent of rotten eggs into gusts of wind.

A spike of anticipation entered the unidentified werewolf's odor.  Evo knew he didn't have much time, and instantly began transformation, his hair and bones twisting with ease under the light of a full moon.  He ran as he did so, his gait widening, fingers stretching with claws.  A snout growing out of his nose and mouth.  The shift itself did something strange to his nervous system, dulling it as if a blanket had been thrown over his brain.

Every single pain cell deadened during transition, which was also why attacking someone before they had fully wolfed out was dumb.  The lack of pain somehow increased the amount of power a body possessed.

His eyes blurred, before revealing a crystal-clear world before him, with every color sharp and distinct, with hundreds of hues in the darkness that his human-softened eyes could never pick up.

The air whipped around him as hairs developed, and his voice turned into a low, vicious growl.  The werewolf in front of him sensed the change, and with a screech, also began their change.

Evo was fast, though, faster than anticipated, and by the time the werewolf started running, he lunged at them and brought them crashing to the ground.

“Identify yourself!” He snarled.  “You are in the territory of the Spirovas!”

The werewolf barked something at him and clawed ferociously, paying no heed to the statement.  Bloody scratches swathed over Evo's snout, and flashes of pain set in. 

He heard Frey running behind him, her trainers slapping along the ground.  The werewolf momentarily hesitated at her odd scent.

It was enough for Evo to pound his face in until his foe slammed into unconsciousness.

Panting, Frey pulled up beside him, her gun cocked and ready for any unexpected shenanigans.  Her chest heaved. She looked nauseous and dizzy as she said, “I'm clearly getting unfit nowadays.  Couldn't even do that little sprint.”

“It's okay.  We got one,” Evo said, breathless and triumphant at the same time.  “And I know a few people who might be interested in interrogating him for information.”

Unconscious, the werewolf melted back into his human form, unveiling a grizzled, gray haired man in tattered, unwashed clothing.  His filthy hair matted and snarled around his ears, and a cloud of beard sprouted from his chin.

“He's one of the invaders, right?”

“Got to be,” Evo answered.  “I think he spoke Russian.  You know, let's check his belongings.”

Curious, the siblings rifled through the werewolf's pockets.  The only thing they found of note was an old box with a coat of arms.

Frey picked it up and stared at the engraving on the golden surface, before popping it open.  Inside lay a large collection of teeth.  Frey's brow furrowed, confused at the selection offered.  Evo, however, shivered.

“Looks like a nasty piece of work.”

Frey closed the box and replaced it.  “Well.  Time to start dragging him, I guess.”