Wolves of Haven: Lone (22 page)

Softly she moaned; perhaps there
were four masks of Damian that she enjoyed: the cocky, sexy, overly
confident mask was most agreeable in the bedroom.

“Did I ever tell you when I knew I
was in love with you?” he asked after a stretch of
silence.

“I’m scared to ask,” Akia admitted;
she hated talking about those types of things because it made her
feel guilty that she couldn’t say it back, even though she knew in
her heart that she loved him, she was just too terrified to say it
aloud then have him not feel the same in a few months, weeks, days,
or hours even.

“You should be simply terrified,”
Damian agreed. “I had spent four days with my pack, my family in
essence, and Father was giving me a hard time because I hadn’t
taken a wife in order to have an heir.”

Her eyes widened, and scrambled
away from him to the far side of the cell.

“Stop,” he said, realizing that his
choice in wording triggered her flight or fight instincts. “Latria
Mou, that is not what I meant. I was fighting with my father
because he thinks I should be married and have heirs by now. I told
him that I was content with my life, career, lack of position in
the pack, and living in the city. When I left, heated and on the
verge of losing it and going for a run, I walked into the loft and
found you curled up on the couch with a book in hand and fast
asleep. You had stayed up waiting for me, not even sure if I was
coming home or not, but you waited. There was something so
beautiful about you at that moment; hair pulled back in a lopsided,
messy ponytail, the little drool dribbling from your parted lips as
you softly snored.”

She glared at him.

“But ultimately, it was the way you
looked at me when I crawled up on the couch with you and pulled you
into me. You opened your eyes and smiled the softest, most
reassuring smile I had ever seen, and that moment all I could think
about was how much I loved you and couldn’t imagine coming home and
not seeing that smile. You held me all night on that ungodly small
couch, and I listened to your heartbeat, committing it to memory… I
swear I could pick it out from a crowd of thousands since I know it
so well. It greets me nearly every morning, and lulls me to sleep
nearly every night.”

Akia relaxed some and tried to
remind herself that not everyone wanted to capture her, wanted
something from her, but it was hard to convince herself since she
was currently in a cell, in heat, a black moon approached, and the
object of her carnal desire was sitting on the other side of the
bars completely naked.

“I hate when you’re romantic,
especially when I’m in a cell, in my father’s basement, and the man
I want is sitting naked not more than eight feet from me,” she
said, making a face.

“I’ll attempt not to make it a
habit,” he assured her with a wink.

“I’ll remind you that…” her words
trailed off and were replaced by a scream of agony.

“Akia!” Damian shouted, getting to
his feet.

Frantic, she ripped and tore at her
clothes, trying to free herself before she completely changed. As
if an invisible force was in the cell with her, Akia flew through
the air then slammed into the back wall of the cell before
collapsing to the floor. Her body violently shook and she clawed at
the ground, collapsing each time she tried to get to her knees. She
gasped and choked, her body heaving as if trying to expel the demon
within her; spine lifted upward, pulling and stretching her skin as
it did, before snapping downward with a sickening pop that nearly
caused Damian to vomit. Blood trickled from Akia’s nose and saliva
dripped from her chin before the cracking of bones echoed
throughout the cellar; her maw elongated, teeth sharpened and tore
through delicate gum tissue, razor sharp claws busted out the ends
of her fingers and toes before her hands and feet widened then
tapered into paws. She cried out in pain, but it quickly turned
into a howl of agony as fine hairs exploded from her smooth skin,
covering the light tawny canvas in a coat of white and light brown
fur.

When the transformation was
complete, she collapsed on the ground in a puddle of her own blood
and saliva, and struggled to catch her breath.

Damian stood there wide-eyed; never
had he seen a transformation that was so painful before. It should
have been effortless, especially because she was older, but it was
as if he was watching her first transformation. The pain and fear
radiating from her emanated from each of her pores and coated
Damian’s skin and tongue; and each labored breath she took, whimper
and cry of pain, caused his heart to break.

Young wolves felt the
transformation more because their bodies weren’t accustomed to the
change, and more often than not they fought it. The older a
werewolf got, the more they understood their body and that of the
wolf constantly inside of them. Some viewed it as a partnership,
but it wasn’t, not in Damian’s opinion. The wolf was an ever
constant part of you, when you fought it, separated yourself from
it, permitted it to have its own identity, then you were nothing
more than a vessel and slave to the wolf.

Never would he be a slave to a
master again.

“Akia?” he whispered, reaching in
the cell, trying to touch her head.

Her eyes shot open, the amber and
gold appeared to be glowing, and she snapped at his hand, luckily
he was faster and pulled back before he lost a finger.

The amber-eyed wolf slammed into
the bars, maw ferociously snapping at the man on the outside of the
iron enclosure.

“Akia, stop,” Damian scolded with a
smile, making sure he was out of reach of her snapping maw and
swiping claws. “You can beat her, you can control her. I know you
can. Please, fight her.”

Eve snarled at him then started
pacing the length of the cell and back again, her narrowed eyes on
the man trying to take away her control.

“This isn’t you,” he
continued.

She barked at him, a short, sharp
bark of warning.

“No, I won’t shut up. She is mine,
just as I am hers, and our relationship has no place for you in
it,” he warned with a growl.

Eve slammed her body against the
bars again and again, trying to find a weak spot, but found
none.

“The cell will hold you,” Damian
said, trying to keep from yelling at her for the damage she was
indubitably doing to Akia’s body.

She snarled at him.

“I didn’t know you were a wilk,” he
continued, taking a seat on the floor then wrapped up with a
blanket. “It has been decades since I’ve seen a Polish wolf. They
are rare…maybe that is why you are female?” he speculated aloud,
anything to keep the snarling, growling, blood thirsty werewolf
across from him from doing anything else that would hurt the woman
he loved. “I doubt it though. The Polish wilks that I had the
pleasure of meeting were very wise and patient. This one, Adalbert
Wolkwitz, he was a very amusing creature, endearing and patient,
and his comedic timing was even more awe-inspiring than his
knowledge in Western European packs and lineage. For five years my
father subjected me to Adalbert’s tutelage. I only word it as
subjected because I acted as if I didn’t want to go, that I hated
it and wanted to go home, all in order to hide the truth from
Father: I loved it. Adalbert’s pack was much like yours, only much
larger. Children freely ran around, no one hid their wolf, and they
were affectionate. Adalbert had seven wives, which I thought was
six too many, but they loved him and each other very much and
enjoyed the smaller pack residing within their home… A pack within
a pack, one of his wives called it,” he said with a
chuckle.

Eve glared at him, her top lip
snarling up over her fangs.

For hours Damian sat there
talking, rambling at times, all in an attempt to pull Akia to the
forefront of her wolf’s mind, but Eve was stubborn and strong. A
part of him speculated, which caused a sense of understanding, why
Akia and Eve were two very different creatures, apparently; Eve was
without conscience and protected them, and Akia was the
level-headed and sane one between the two. He didn’t want to, but
he honestly pitied her because of the apparent severe confliction
within her, which would create the two very different
personalities. He had questioned for years why she took such high
dosage of
Risperdal when she wasn’t crazy
in the least, but he was starting to realize that Eve might
be.

Damian looked at the pacing,
snarling wolf, his heart heavy with sadness. “I will teach Akia how
to control you, Eve,” he warned, questioning his sanity for a brief
moment because he was talking to her as if it wasn’t the woman he
loved.

Eve growled before slamming against
the bars, her maw wildly snapping and claws sweeping as she tried
to get at him.

“Akia is stronger than she knows,”
he informed her. “I know she is. She will beat you and take control
of her wolf, or I will,” he warned.

Varg softly snarled under his
breath as he paced the length of the living room and back again.
Connell was called to the latest body just outside of Haven. Louvel
was drinking wine, watching the smaller, blue haired wolf hop
around and spin in circles, expending what was left of his lunar
energy. Rafe was listening to the police scanner, trying to pick up
any chatter that might help point them in a direction since the two
in the cellar hadn’t emerged even though the sun had been up for
over an hour.

“Uncle, I am going to punt that
blue-haired mutt to America if he doesn’t sit down,” Varg
warned.

Ulrik growled at him then started
jumping up and down even more, spinning in circles on his hind legs
as if he were a trained bear at the circus simply to antagonize the
sulking Viking.

Louvel chuckled. “He is merely
trying to get you to play with him. You have been in an absolutely
bitter mood since catching our guest’s scent.”

Varg growled under his
breath. “If I would have known that silly girl was entertaining an
heir of the Lykos, I would have ripped his throat out the moment I
had the displeasure of catching his scent!” he said, his voice
carrying rather well throughout the stone-walled manor. “You know
the risk,” he continued, his pacing resuming. “If the Alpha of the
Lykos, if his
father,
discovers Akia and Eve, they will take her and try to use the
lone female as a bitch for breeding. I’m sure he already knows!” he
yelled the latter. “They are just waiting for her to let her guard
down. How could she be so foolish as to sleep with the
enemy?”

Ulrik looked to Louvel; he was
confused.

“Nephew,” Louvel said with a heavy
sigh, “the Lykos are not the enemy. They are merely a very large
pack with very deep and extensive roots, and are much respected in
the werewolf community. They know of the wolves of Haven, and yet
they do not press our presence being so close to their
territory-”

“We were here first!” Varg
interrupted, and Ulrik growled, his hackle rising. “Zip it,
Pup.”

Louvel patted the wolf’s head,
trying to calm him down. “We were first on the Island and in this
remote territory, that is true, and the Lykos spread from the
Central and Southern regions until they had ultimate control over
the Northeast, but they could have easily taken our territory if
they longed to do so.”

“Arno
Manikas
of the Lykos is a patient
wolf, one that doesn’t fear anyone or anything, especially a small
pack like ours,” Varg argued. “And now an heir is under our roof,
and we’re to simply entertain the bastard as if we are beneath
him?”

Rafe chuckled, joining them, and
tossed the notes he’d taken from the police scanner to Louvel to
look at. “The only one under him is little sister,” he pointed out.
“That’s what your major malfunction is, Brother. He seems nice,
dotes on her and…there is something in the way he looks at her that
tells me he isn’t a threat.”

“Sizing her up for auction, you
mean,” Varg snarled.

“Oh yes, because everyone wants a
psycho bitch and a police officer that knows thirty ways to kill a
man without a weapon,” he retorted, rolling his eyes. “Speaking of,
how’s the arm? You’re lucky it was only a flesh wound.”