Wolf Magic: A Fantasy of Werewolves and Witches in the Twilight (8 page)

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Sample Chapter the USA TODAY Recommended Erotic Romance

TORN TO PIECES

SASCHA ILLYVICH

CHAPTER ONE

A loud motorcycle ripped down the street and sped around the corner, forcing Kerian's attention from the house where his two contractors worked.

"Damn, fucking, young punk, bikers."  He mumbled, and looked up at the sky.  The sun hung low and bright, but it was only 4 PM. 

A memory washed through him. 

The image of his former lover, Jackob, riding a loud bike down the desert highway so fast, he could hear him from half a mile away, flashed in his mind.

Jackob came to Kerian in a time when his pack had started feeling the sickness brought in from Outside influences.

Neither wolf had any idea how to cure the disease. 

Even worse, Jackob's pack had also begun showing signs of sickness.  Just days after Jackob returned from a long road trip, he'd called Kerian and left a voicemail.

"My mother died.  In my fucking arms, Ker.  She died!"  He slurred his words, indicating just how drunk and angry he truly was. 

The sex had been magnificent, but only displaced the problem, solving nothing. 

Then Jackob disappeared for two weeks, leaving Kerian worried, and with his own pack suffering, he felt alone.

He shuddered. 

The situation continued to get worse, leaving both packs down to about 20 members each, down from close to 60 wolves.  Unification of smaller, local packs in Albuquerque enlarged and strengthened the packs. 

But the sickness became an overwhelming issue.  Jackob's presence calmed Kerian's nerves, and made him feel like they had a chance to do real good for the shifter community.

Until that fateful day when he learned his lover was a thief. 

Another shudder wracked his body, this one from a combination of the cold wind nipping at his exposed skin and the memory of his traitorous lover.

He sighed, and gazed back at the nearly finished house.

Cold wind bit at Kerian, forcing him to pull his jacket tighter around his body.  Snow had fallen over the past few days, odd for Albuquerque.  Every ten years or so, snow fell and lasted. 

The sun hung high in the sky at this point, warming him slightly, but doing little to dissipate the cold chill brought on by the bitter wind. 

Kerian stood in the bed of his truck, surveying the days' work his men had done.  The house before them had been demolished from the inside out, leaving the bare studs, and some electrical wiring running through it, along with the roof, intact.  The plumbing had been pulled and the back yard stripped of extraneous debris. 

Flipping open a clipboard, he looked down the list of things they had to accomplish by the end of this week.  Debris and trash removal had taken two days longer than expected and they were already behind schedule due to the sickness infecting his pack.

Wolves didn't catch human diseases, but whatever infected his pack caused a major ruckus.  Traveling packs once stopped here to give the town badly needed business, but now they avoided Albuquerque, and headed north towards the mountains. 

Except for the outside invaders who wreaked havoc on the town occasionally, and blamed his pack, Albuquerque rarely got wolf business.  Rumors of extreme violence kept humans away. 

Even worse, the pack waging war on his had chosen to strike when news hit Kerian's wolves had become infected. 

The few remaining packs proved useless, offering no help at all.  They avoided him as well, since the infection began to spread. 

He'd been forced to take jobs working real estate construction gigs, for what few investors saw value in the city.  The jobs paid a decent wage and keep his pack fed and clothed. 

With a sigh, Kerian wiped his brow, moving strands of dark hair from his forehead, then hopped off the truck and walked up the front lawn, into the house.  His nose picked up the scents of freshly cut wood, sand and concrete, along with the headiness of earth and sweat. 

He shoved the large wooden door open, looked around at two of his pack mates.  Marco, a dark skinned Indian, with long, shiny, black hair, stood with a hammer in his hand, surveying the work he'd done removing molded drywall.  Sanchez, a wolf with very mestizo features, pried a nail out of the wall and kicked in the drywall in front of him, getting dust on his carpenter's pants and flannel.  Dust peppered his already graying hair.

Kerian cleared his throat.  "Hey, take the rest of the day off.  We're out of here." He tapped his watch for emphasis. 

"But boss," Marco turned to face him, "we're almost done."

He narrowed his eyes at Marco's sullen expression.  The other wolf needed to be away from home right now, the distraction from the pack's plight provided him with a purpose Kerian well understood.  "I know." He nodded, "But I don't want to risk you two getting sick because you overworked yourselves."

Sanchez lifted his head and set the pry bar down with a clang against the concrete.  "We're stronger than that."

Kerian knew this.  These two he'd chosen for lead contractors because they were workhorses.  Both well over their forties, Kerian hated how they needed jobs so badly, but they had human families outside the pack.  When he found them both, they hadn't been with any pack, so adopting them seemed logical.  "Shit, you two are the strongest in this pack.  It's why I have you out here helping me on rehabs.  But go home, you both have families who need to see you tonight."

Marcus and Sanchez nodded.  Taking their tools with them, they headed out of the house and loaded up into Sanchez's beat-up old truck. 

Kerian surveyed the house.  They'd need to reroute plumbing just slightly in the kitchen, to accommodate repositioning of the sink.  They'd have to reroute the gas line too, just six inches.  Easy stuff, once materials arrived. 

He wiped his brow again.  Cold wind dug into his skin painfully, making any exposed limbs feel the sting of frostbite.  The fur from his beast kept him warm, but the unusually cold winter, plus all the stress, did nothing to help him. 

Kerian retrieved a bandana from his right back pocket and slipped the black rag around his head.

He slid a pair of sunglasses over his eyes, grabbed the keys from his pocket and locked up the two doors in the kitchen, before exiting the house.  He gave the locked front door a firm tug, to make sure he'd secured the house properly.  Wolves didn't celebrate Thanksgiving. 

Not with the rival packs vying for dominance, anyway.  In Albuquerque, with a sick pack, they had little to be thankful for.

With a sigh, Kerian straddled his motorcycle, slipped fingerless gloves on, and revved the engine.  Backing out of the driveway, he darted into the street and raced off down the highway towards I-40. 

His jaw ticked. 

Kerian pulled into the far right lane, and made his way downtown towards Central Avenue and 6
th
street, where Iolite lived.  He hadn't seen her in a few weeks and the need for her tightened.

The usual pre-holiday traffic made the drive downtown slower than normal.  Wind blew against his face, whipping his hair about. 

Kerian wove in and out of traffic until he came to the exit for Rio Grande Avenue, which would lead him down to Central. 

He turned off the freeway, slowed for the light, feeling his heart race faster as he neared Iolite's. 

She'd been a beacon of light in his otherwise bleak life.  With his parents dying off from whatever disease had ravaged the packs, and their old alpha succumbing to old age, the pack had suffered a great deal. 

Once their alpha did pass, Kerian took the reins, and the others in his pack accepted Kerian's rule without question.  He had a bloodline destiny to be ruler of the pack.

Kerian gritted his teeth at the memory of his latest loss. 

To let his pack know of his preference for having a mate of each gender, to just one female, would cause any wolf a lot of problems in this part of the country. 

In fact, most wolves frowned on bisexuality, often citing examples of heterosexual wolves who always topped.

From Kerian's experiences, humans held similar beliefs to wolves, but didn't take them as far.  He'd scoffed at his share of men leaving the gay and bi clubs in the area.  Most humans had no sense of self-worth, so they identified with their sexuality.  Those comfortable with themselves still didn't possess the begrudging pride of the wolf.

Jackob sought him out one night, four years ago.  Truly, his first gay experience, Jackob had been kind with him.  He'd taught him things about his human body most sex experts didn't know.  He'd been the one to show Kerian how to have mind blowing anal sex.

In short, he'd been a stellar lover; Until Kerian discovered Jackob's pack had been responsible for the recent string of bank robberies. 

Jackob swore he had nothing to do with it, but Kerian remained suspicious.  His inability to answer questions with anything other than word games, irritated Kerian. 

Fucker.  After a year, Kerian could look away no more. 

His heart still ached at thoughts of his missing lover.  Jackob would absolutely adore Iolite.  She'd been the most understanding woman in his life, and Kerian needed that.

Jackob probably did too. 

It'd been way too long since he'd seen Iolite.  Jobs and pack business had kept him away, even though they lived within an hour of each other.  His house in Rio Rancho was a straight shot down I-25.  The pack needed closeness to the mountains where they gathered herbs and found shelter from the elements, outside of fears of human discovery. 

He turned down Central Ave, pulled onto 6
th
street around the recently converted large, stone building of condos.  Iolite's top floor apartment had a great view of downtown.  What she was doing here was beyond him, the music from numerous clubs and bars often kept her awake at night.  "You keep me safe, knowing you're not too far away."

The thought made him smile.

Kerian parked the bike and hopped off, rounding the corner onto Central.  He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, "Hey, Iolite!"

She stood on the balcony.  Her doors were open, letting in the cold.  She appeared at the rail.

"Iolite," he smiled.

She waved a hand in the air.  "Here I am, Kerian! Come on up!"

He grinned, and with a salute, walked to the front door of the building and headed towards the elevator, smirking at the brown and orange color scheme chosen for the interior. 

The elevator reached the top floor and the doors opened.

Before he stepped out, a pair of arms clasped around his waist.  Iolite flung herself into him, her body's warmth cut through the cold chill in his.  Her hair smelled of patchouli and sandalwood, her underlying scent, rose. 

"Hey now," he laughed, pulling her tighter into his body.  The doors started to shut on them. 

Dressed in hip-hugging jeans and a gray sweater, her hair flowed like a large, soft, blanket behind her.  Silvery hazel eyes sparkled.  Ruby red lips puckered together and blew him a kiss.  "This could be like that book I read," she winked.

He arched an eyebrow.  "What book?"

Hands slid down his back and around his chest.  "
Over the Moon
; four sexy authors writing hot romances."

With a grin, he held her hands in his, the softness of her skin a complement to his roughness.  "I like where this could go."

Her mouth seized his.  Soft, pliant, lips caressed his mouth, her sweet lips opening, to invite him in.

Kerian's tongue swirled around her mouth, tasting lush honey and wine as it explored her, stroking her tongue along with the rest of her.

Her tongue matched his, stroke for stroke, before wrapping around his and sucking. 

Hands clasped his shoulders, tugging desperately at his shirt. 

Kerian cupped Iolite's face in his hands, caressing her mouth with his, before plundering her with his tongue.  Exploring every inch of her, brought his cock to a hardness he hadn't felt in a long time, and the warmth of her body pressing against his sent shudders through him.

"Mmm," she pulled back from the kiss and hit a button on the elevator.  The doors shut again.  She dragged her mouth down his skin; she inhaled deeply and sank to her knees. 

He heard the zipper on his jeans being yanked down.  His cock sprang free, into tiny little fingers that gripped him.

Kerian gripped a fistful of silken hair and inhaled sharply.

Velvet heat engulfed him from her mouth. 

He jerked against her, unable to respond verbally.

She laughed, sending vibrations up the length of his cock.  Her tongue swirled around his shaft and stroked the underside of him.

Flames raced up his body, his fist tightened in her hair.

Iolite shifted, but kept him deep in her mouth, only to pull back – oh so slowly – on him, and dragged her lips up his length.

Kerian clenched his free hand into a tight fist.  Gritting his teeth, he managed to groan out, "You're killing me, babe."

Read all of Sascha Illyvich's USA TODAY recommended novel of paranormal romance Torn to Pieces.