Of Love and Lycans

Chapter 2

    The expansive two story foyer was the hub of the party though the festivities extended throughout much of the first floor. Everywhere pounded with gyrating dancers under the music and strobe lights, reeked of alcohol, drugs, and sweat, and was crowded as all hell. Whoever the birthday boy was had a lot of friends, or people who just were kiss-ups and wanted to be friends. Of course, there was always that guy who came just to get drunk. 

    One thing was for sure, the peeps here were as expected, part of the pinkies-up crew, dressed in clothes that one could only get from exclusive stores or overseas,  and, most definitely, drunk off their asses.

    Nevaeh leaned over to her cousins. “Let’s split up and follow the crowd around.” She tracked the foyer’s two-winding staircases that lifted up to the second level where it met up at a balcony.  It was a normal procedure, to case out the place, figure out any possible threats and all possible exits if the mission went south. Yet, as she tracked the upper floor, her eyes lingered for longer than necessary. It wasn't like there was anything to see, or that it had anyone standing there, but there was just a... feeling. She couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something... 

Nevaeh growled at herself as she yanked her attention from the balcony and tried to refocus.

 “The upper floor looks like it’s off limits." She cleared her throat and blinked her eyes a few more times. It wasn't like the feeling popped into nonexistence. It still crawled over her skin to remind her it was still there. But she needed to bury it away, for now. Nevaeh continued, "So, we’ll just creep on the lower levels for the time being. Levi, find the kitchen and camp there. I’ll see what’s happening out back if the party extends out in the yard.” They both nodded at her before she continued. “We’ll meet back up at this spot in ten, maybe fifteen, minutes tops. If we get what we came for, we’ll bail before we get puked on because some of these guys are seriously smashed.”

    Ofa pouted, “No way, Nevaeh. You said we could party for a bit. No take-backsies.” Her eyes floated to the opened area in the foyer where people were dancing. “I want in on that. It’s like a club and we haven’t been out of the family estate since we got here a week ago. I am seriously wilting due to clubbing deprivation!” 

    Nevaeh rolled her eyes. “Ok, fine. After the meet-up with Gamma Rhys, we’ll meet back here and plan what to do then. Got it?” Levi simply nodded, yet Ofa hopped excitedly before Nevaeh’s glare prompted her cousin to get down to business. Ofa cleared her throat, her face flushing stoic as she squared her shoulders before melting into the crowd.

    With the bodyguard in tow weaving through the maze of bodies and rooms, Nevaeh finally managed to find glass doors that opened up to the backyard which also happened to showcase an impressive display.  Encompassed within a few feet of intricate concrete, a vast Olympic-sized pool was lit up, illuminating the whole area with a rippling effect, coupled with the club lights that had been setup surrounding it. At the end of the pool, another DJ perched on a small stage, playing beats of some other song while people danced and fraternized in and outside of the water.

    Nevaeh shook her head at the obviously drunk girls laughing as they waded in designer gowns, sipping colorful drinks. Not that she should care that the cackling girls waded in chlorinated water in a thousand dollars’ worth of clothing. Not her circus, not her monkeys.

    Seriously, she was feeling her IQ dropping the more she watched and had to rip her eyes away. 

    As nonchalantly as possible Nevaeh tracked the partiers outside by walking around the pool, loitering a bit by the outside bar, and wandering through the lounge chairs hoping to tip off her possible contact about her arrival. Anything Gamma Rhys knew about her was that she was also a werewolf. Hopefully his sniffer helped him find her, or hers helped find him. But the air was so thick with sin, making it hard to tack down singular scents. At least outside, there was a better chance of separating humans from werewolves outside.

    Even so, as she pushed her senses to probe the area, a different smell pinged on her radar. It was something she had never smelled before, yet strangely, had tell-tale lupine signatures.  As her mind sherlocked the question of what smells like a werewolf but isn’t a werewolf, the answer sorta crashed into her.

    “f*****g werewolves. Who invited ya here? How did’ya get in?” slurred a s**t-faced, staggering blonde with her double-d’s threatening to spill outta her red skin-tight Versace. 

    Nevaeh’s manicured eyebrow lifted, regarding the lush with a flick of her eyes. Did wolves in London not follow the universal lupine code of thou shalt not disclose the existence of werewolves to the general public? Maybe she skipped that class. Nah- she most likely crammed for that quiz the night before and then info-dumped her common sense the next day. s**t though, how many of the hundred humans near-by heard that shrill? 

    Someone she called Oliver tried to pull her away from Nevaeh, but the drunk hoe planted her high-heels and refused to budge. The bleach-blonde b***h didn’t smell like a wolf herself. She had that weird smell, too. So, the feckless halfwit knew about the supernatural world but had no social decorum. Bad combo.

    Nevaeh waited for the hoochie girl to play her cards before responding. It only took a fool so long before they had exposed--

    “But Oliver, why is this b***h here at a Lycan’s party?” She fought with the guy who was trying to clean up her social mess. Oliver shot Nevaeh an apologetic look, which she just shrugged off. Fighting, physically or verbally, with someone so wrecked wasn’t worth her time. “It’s so disgusting.” 

    Lycan, huh. Was that what she was smelling?  Interesting. Nevaeh had heard of them. Never met one. As far as she had studied or was told, there weren’t many of them left in the world because of their inability to procreate as well as a normal werewolf, and those that did exist were much like Miss Smashed here-- thought they were the goddess’ gift to all wolves and everyone should f*****g bow to them or something. Granted, Lycans lived a long time, amassed hordes of wealth, and were nearly demonesque beasts when they shifted that would rip her face off with just the flick of their dewclaw. They were Shifter royalty, even higher than her father’s station as Alpha King. Lycans were like emperors and s**t. So, the crown they forged to wear, declaring superiority over all, was well earned. 

    Though, respect was earned, too. 

    And this Lycan b***h hadn’t even hit a maybe.

    Ben came up beside Nevaeh, assessing. She shook her head. “I don’t need you right now, Superman. I can handle Barbie here.”

    Barbie, though her handler, Oliver, called her something like Lyla, pointed a red manicured fingernail at Nevaeh’s chest. “You are out of your league, here, low class mutt. You’re definitely not welcome here either!”  Nevaeh rolled her eyes as she chuckled when Ben bounded between the two of them, obviously finding Barbie’s red acrylics as threatening.

    Nevaeh touched his arm, “Ben you’re embarrassing me. Heal, puppy.” Her bodyguard glared, but did not move.

    Ben was nicer to Barbie than she deserved, “I’m going to ask you to stand down.” His low voice purred.

    “Eat s**t, mutt. How dare you tell me what to do!” Lyla growled at him. Nevaeh was intrigued when Barbie’s eyes flecked golden. She had seen gold eyes before; her dad had amazing golden-amber eyes, but this girl’s was different. It almost looked metallic. Again, her research hadn’t let her down. This was another tell-tale of the Lycan. 

    Star-struck, Nevaeh stared for longer than she should have. Her first real experience with a superior breed of werewolf standing right in front of her… and she had to run into the b***h of the lot.

    “Ben, you’re upsetting the poodle,” Nevaeh ribbed. “Let’s go.” She didn’t want to step down from this potential fight, but now was not the time.

    Barbie must’ve not liked that. As she lunged at Nevaeh, her teeth and claws drew long.  Ben played hero like the Alpha king paid him to do and acted as a barrier, holding the Lycan back.  Although very chivalrous of him, it annoyed Nevaeh to no end. She didn’t need protection from this she-b***h. Instead of standing behind the bodyguard, she flanked him quickly, glaring at Lyla.

    “Look, sweetheart, I don’t know who pissed in your Cheerios, but you and I have no beef. So cool your t**s and just go back to getting drunk or maybe getting hooked up with Oliver here.” Oliver, who had also been trying to pull Lyla away, blasted her with a stupefied look. She winked at him, “He looks like he’s man enough to handle you.” That was no lie. Oliver was a muscly mass of handsome yum.

    Caught off guard, Nevaeh froze. In a wafting moment, that smell came from Oliver, too. Did Ollie just push out his aura onto her? Her stomach spun at the realization that what he did probably wasn’t some sort of mating ‘let’s go take a roll in the sheets’ invitation, but rather a warning. And just how many Lycans were at this party?  It was crazy to have never bumped shoulders with one, and now suddenly there were two. Curious, Nevaeh quickly scouted the area, noting the eye-shine of quite a few people looking their way. Her shoulders feathered as she tried to admonish the creep factor.

    f**k. Was this a Lycan den? She hadn’t studied or trained enough on how to fight these. Maybe she should just back down until she could get a feel for what sort of s**t she was walking into.

    “Werewolves,” Lyla seethed as if it were a dirty word, “being here is an insult!” She spoke amazingly well through canine teeth.  “Get your stank ass out of here.”

    “Fine,” Nevaeh crossed her arms over her chest. She didn’t want to leave, but she also didn’t want to be gang-rushed by a bunch of hubristic, racist Lycans. “I’m outtie. Just back off.”

    “Back off or what!” She broke out of Oliver’s hold and took a small step forward. Ben rooster-ed out his chest and glared down at Barbie with flaring nostrils. 

    “If this goes down, b***h. It’s just you and me.” Nevaeh’s eyes flicked back over the poolside audience. “No other dogs in this fight.”

    Lyla laughed; the red lipstick she wore made her mouth look twice as large and even a bit horrific. Nevaeh shrugged off the cringe and focused on the Lycan. “I don’t need a bodyguard, b***h,” her eyes flicked to Ben, “to fight for me.”

    Nevaeh mind-linked Ben. Step down. If I need you, you’ll know.

    The Alpha King will have my ass. He growled in response.

    Daddy doesn't need to know. Now step back.

    In a reluctant slide, Ben moved behind Nevaeh. Her hands balled and flexed at her sides as she waited for Barbie to make any sudden moves. She didn’t say a word, though her stare held firm in the stand-off.

    “Stop, Lyla. Just walk away.” Oliver grabbed her arm and yanked her back against him. “If Aron knows you started s**t tonight, he’s going to flip.”

    “Aron can go piss off.” 

    “Lyla.” Oliver growled, taking a step back and wrenching her with him. “Enough.”

    “Fine,” she spat. Before she turned and followed Oliver, her red clown mouth slurred at Nevaeh, “Find your flea-bitten ass outta here before I toss you over the fence myself!”  Lyla spun on her heels, nearly losing her footing if it weren’t for Oliver, and tottered toward the mansion. Nevaeh’s eyebrow rose as Barbie stuttered too close to the pool and had a fleeting, guilty wish to see Lyla fall in and maybe swallow a little too much chlorine. But Oliver repositioned Lyla to his right side as he continued to guide her back inside. Damn. Ollie wasn’t any fun.

    “Your flair at making friends is astounding,” a deep accented voice tittered behind her. 

    Nevaeh turned sharply, noting the man lounging in the long white poolside chair. He smirked as their eyes locked. “I don’t make friends easily.” She quickly scanned over him, assessing. He may just be flirting, but as always being the cynical one, she couldn’t ever afford to let her guard down.  A handsome face, such as his, was often a perfect mask. This is where she could hear Ofa telling her to chill out and just let the man flirt.  

    “I can see that,” he continued, his hazel eyes glinting. He sat upright, his long muscular legs straddling the long chair as he continued to look up at her. The man’s pale, hazel eyes oozed brooding survivor; instantly drawn in, she wanted to know his story. “Best not do that though with their kind. You’ll find yourself six-feet under.”