Page 29 of Hound

Clothes ripped apart as his body expanded. Human teeth tumbled onto the ground alongside strands of hair. Bonescracked and snapped, his chest and height doubling. Dark fur rapidly covered skin in patches. Nails lengthened into sharp tips, the ends keen as knives. His human face morphed, the lean form vanishing into a long snout. Amber eyes stretched into the darkening scleras, parted by black slits, and razor-sharp fangs crowded his mouth.

The beast was standing right in front of me, but it wasn’t him. The bartender was never a vampire, he was alycan.

How? They’d all died off.

He pounced and attacked. Ferociousness burned in his gaze, paw-like hands swinging with precision. My body instinctively reacted, but not fast enough. Nails grazed my skin and dug, his force greater than mine. This was strength I’d never experienced before. It was raw and feral. And he was going to kill me.

The beast emerged and ripped out of my grip, the pain in my chest exploding. His heart took over and mine hushed. The two weren’t at war anymore—they came to an agreement.

My vision sharpened. Everything attuned to my senses. A wave of nausea surpassed me. Bones cracked and blood spilled as fire scorched my veins. Gums throbbed while teeth tumbled out of my lips, spilling onto the ground where paws trampled. Canines rapidly assumed their place. Fur enveloped the stretching skin that now housed the bloodthirsty beast.

A snarl escaped my mouth as I sprang onto Ian, meeting each of his swings with my own. The figure of the beast was taller than man, more monstrous than those wolf-like creatures humans liked to depict. Aggression and thick rage erased logic. Pungent iron coated the passing wind. Was it mine or his? It didn’t matter. All I needed was to take his last breath.

Keen canines landed on skin and yanked, flesh flailing and blood gushing. Intense ringing echoed in my ears as my vision blurred. Lights flashed as Ian stumbled backward, his humanform slowly reappearing as it grew brighter. Had the sun come back? And why was it so fucking loud?

Footsteps echoed in the distance as parked cars came into view. The hair on my neck rose and a voice sharpened.

Run.

I sprinted, ran until my lungs clung for air and my feet numbed. Everything dimmed. A crisp scent filled my nostrils.

“Lorenzo!”

I knew that voice, how right my name sounded whenever Christopher said it, but why couldn’t I see him? “Doll?” The voice was a croak, a void that had no embodiment.

“You’re going to bleed out!” Christopher’s voice was frantic, as if afraid. Slowly, his face came into frame. I could make out his outline, the framing blonde strands, the harsh lines that dimmed his expression. His knitted eyebrows and shaking gaze.

Even when painted in fear, he was beautiful.

Chapter 10

CHRISTOPHER SEPHTIS

“Lorenzo!” I tumbled to his side as a sense of despair smeared the startling tone that escaped me, a name spoken in the past but never in this manner. Anguish wrapped its fingers within my chest, sinking its nails until pain echoed in my bones. Never had I worn a mask before him. But in this moment, my very being wished I could fortify myself as the small fragments of composure disintegrated.

After discovering Lorenzo in That Man’s chamber, thoughts had haunted me without avail. Questions regarding his motive floated like a fickle speck of dust, materializing abruptly when the sun poured into my chamber. Theories loomed when sleep was unfeasible.

How had Lorenzo broken through the chains? The night That Man had them installed after our mother’s passing, it smoldered our flesh with second-degree burns. Lorenzo, on the other hand, had remained unmarked.

After sending Sonia to face what I couldn’t bring myself to, it did not alleviate the foreboding that had overhung like a shadow, intensifying with each passing second that trickled into the dead of night, when a sudden intuition tugged at my veins.In a daze, it dragged me under the blanket of light rain, droplets caressing my flesh until the moon-lit cave emerged. A blood trail streamed inside, revealing a figure I never thought to witness in my lifetime.

A lycan, sculpted in bulging veins and protruding bones, contoured by muscle and fur, encapsulated between the tangible and the mythic. A lycan that I recognized in scent and shadow.

Lorenzo’s motionless body transfigured. His lycan-lined features mutated, snout and paws reverting to the human form I recognized. Amidst his largely naked build, hollow eyes darkened as pupils dilated and gaped beyond me. Blanched, copper flesh hung from the lower side of his neck to his collarbone, scarlet-red blood pouring from the monstrous wound. Spindly muscle and veins dangled over his bare shoulder. Grime stained his fingers, particularly the black sharpened nails that curved at the tips. Lorenzo’s elevated chest caved at every inhale, each shallower than the last.

Until he ceased to breathe.

“Oh no.” A harsh ripple of memories awakened a heaviness from five years ago with full strength. It was too similar to the night we discovered our mother, bloodied and lifeless on the floor of That Man’s chamber, during a night that was to be festive and enjoyed. “No, no, no!”

Instinct drove me on him and propelled trembling hands onto his chest. A string of life dangled, thinning by the second.

Beneath the pulsing wound, veins steadily connected. Traces of mangled muscle rejoined, yet his flesh remained unmoving. If lycans possessed similar capabilities as vampires, then he would be able to regenerate. But at the rate his body was healing, death would consume him before so.

“He needs to feed,” I whispered to myself, the frigid air stiffening as the realization dawned. Intuition whispered.

Within our society, vampire blood was regarded highly due to its vigorous make up and strong regenerative abilities when ingested, especially to humans. In old tales, consuming our blood after a bite was assumed the elixir to vampirism. In the current age, vampires reveled in such lore to dupe humans.

However, in both of our societies, the realities of transitioning have never seen the light of day. Regal Families were to know, yet many remained uninformed. The few who did know were out of reach, like That Man, or long gone—like our mother, the first successfully transitioned vampire.

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