The Last Lycan

Chapter 4 - Her Fire

My hand had grown so accustomed to the smooth, warm, tingling pulsations humming from my palm to my chest that I had almost forgotten that my wits were meant to be firmly about me. I had tossed them to the side, lost in my trance, and all for a pretty face… a mesmerisingly pretty face attached to the wonderful scent reminiscent of my home.

While this she-wolf may not have smelled like any lycan female I knew, her perfume of roasted spices over a crackling fire was enough to lift me from my feet and wrap its coils around my senses, making me forget myself if only for a brief flicker of time.

I had reservations about entering a pack. Severe reservations. But the she-wolf’s soft hand in mine, pulling me forward with a bewitching smile coyly flashed over her shoulder, blurred all those reservations like smoke caught on the breeze. That was until the layered smells of what these pack wolves laid down as their border scent markers. If our lycans had ever put down such a frail scent, our Alpha would have kicked their hides all across our boundaries.

Kirill’s wary growl at this pack’s border made itself known, burning my throat with our mutual agitation.

(“It’s ok. I promise I won’t let you be hurt.”) Heather’s thumb circled the ridge of my palm, calming me a fraction along with her words that I couldn’t understand yet felt all the same.

As much as I wanted to keep my hand clasped within Heather’s and drown in the river of the bond flowing between us, I needed to keep a clear head for anything I was about to face. I couldn’t keep such a thing if Heather’s… everything… was wreaking havoc and clouding my mind with her beautiful fog. Her face fell as my hand withdrew, pinching the twinge at my temples that irked me more and more because it had such a grip, and was growing stronger.

Not far past the pack border, a pair of men approached, their scents announcing them before they were in sight. The one in front began speaking to Heather, and I didn’t need to comprehend that whatever was being said was being uttered with some hostility.

The silent second man stood a pace behind his partner, keeping his line of sight firmly set on me. He postured his body, striving to collect as much height as he could muster, which barely cleared my shoulder. His chest puffed out, and I began to wonder if this was some poor attempt at intimidation.

Kirill sneered, scoffing at the man’s paltry shot. ‘Does this reindeer’s ass think he could win against us? We should shift and show him what he’s up against.’

‘You i***t animal! We are not showing these things what we are. Look what happened with the last pack that discovered us.’

(“—have this out with the Alpha, myself.”) Heather shoved the first male aside, drawing my eye and ending the pissing contest my wolf wanted to initiate.

The wolf was barely a lick taller than her but substantially broader, yet she exhibited not a whisper of fear. This she-wolf was brave beyond compare and wilful to a fault, two traits that stirred many new sensations, including a return of the most inopportune uncomfortable tightness of my trousers.

The wolf didn’t retaliate. Instead, he chuckled darkly.

(“It’s your pyre to burn on, Heather. You might actually push him over the edge this time.”)

Whatever he said made Heather roll her eyes and fold her arms over her chest. (“Wouldn’t be the first time.”)

Her ire switched wolves, standing toe to toe with the one still glaring my way. (“And you? Quit trying to intimidate my mate. You need another 100 lbs and at least a half foot on top of your thick head before you come close to competing. Prick.”)

The scowl with which she cut them was sharper than a honed blade, impaling their backs as they strode away. A frustrated breath blew past her full, red lips, her honey-brown eyes watching them disappear into the undergrowth. For the longest time, she appeared to be lost in thought, ruminating on something deep, given the furrowed line between her brows. Her attention switched from the retreating wolves to the hand hanging beside me. Heather turned, without grasping it, and curled a finger for me to follow. That move hurt me more than it should have. It was what I wanted – to be left with the clarity that the absence of her touch instilled – and, at the same time, it wasn’t.

The sounds of life began to grow louder, similar to the ones I heard around human settlements. Whirring, low howls, barks and tools striking their materials all mingled in unison to produce an ensemble of harmonic noise not too dissimilar to my home, and that was where the likeness ended.

The sights of the pack were a world away from what I was accustomed to in Fire Mountain. I couldn’t help but gawk around, counting the differences as my boots hit the solid grey footpath. There were electric lights and vehicles zipping past in each direction, garnering little attention as they were commonplace. How could they stand such a racket constantly?

(“Be fascinated in this direction, would you?”) Heather’s hand tugged at my sleeve, pulling me in the direction she wanted.

(“This is the pack house, or ‘den’ as some of the old wolves still like to call it.”) Her arm swept outward when we happened upon an expansive log dwelling, sprawling further than any I had seen. (“And I have no idea why I’m telling you this because you don’t understand a word. But, hey, whatever.”)

The din faded, and the babble of water grew, as did the attention directed at the two of us. More wolves were milling around the stretching home, staring openly as we passed on by. Some even growled, only to be met with an equal growl of retaliation from Heather.

What silenced even the crickets was the explosive crack of a pair of huge doors, shuddering the walls when they slammed open, and revealing a man who could rival the size of the Alpha of my home.

From what I could tell, we were of comparable height, but he appeared older and broader – at the peak of his prime as a wolf. The gentle breeze caught the dark brown curls of his hair, mixing his scent with that of the air in the surrounding area. He must have spent the majority of his time here and on this pack’s borders because his scent was thick around both.

(“In here, now!”)

At the man’s gruff and thundering words, Heather gripped my upper arm, motioning for me to follow. This appeared to set him off further in his anger.

(“Not that.”) He jabbed a finger in my direction, specifically. (“The outsider stays out here where it belongs.”)

(“No.”) Heather stood in front of me, her back pressed to my chest, so close I could taste her. (“We’re not debating whether my mate can live here or not without him present. It’s not as though he’s a wolf from White Cloud pack.”)

Between the angry man exuding a thick, crackling air I had never experienced and the she-wolf before me, unmoving, and baring her neck as if it were against her will, they were in a standoff. And judging by how Heather was guarding me, I was the topic of the standoff.

‘Would it be appropriate if I were to swoon over our fire-haired mate?’ Kirill determined that this was the most pertinent question to ask in the moment.

‘Give it a rest. We’re heading into what smells like their den. We need our senses sharp, not muddled by your daydreaming.’ I tried to tilt my groin away from the she-wolf’s backside, so she couldn’t feel the bulge of my c**k growing because of her.

‘Puh-lease. That isn’t a stick in your trousers, human.’

In the argument with my wolf, I almost missed the man striding away, muttering incomprehensible boiled words as he went. With his absence, the air thinned and returned to its crisp, fresh state, leaving me with the question that my wolf should have asked.

What, under the moon’s light, was that?

No lycan I knew had ever spoken of such an air one could radiate. Nothing like it exuded from Heather, so what was it? And why did it make her neck bow in reverence?

She seemed to want to fight it, yet couldn’t.

The lycans of Fire Mountain would bend their necks for our chosen Alpha, and the Alpha in return would reciprocate out of mutual respect, not because either was forced.

Heather yanked me forward and out of my mounting questions, hooking her arm around mine to drag me into what I could only assume was a wolf den. (“Come on.”)

On the inside, people stopped in their tracks as we passed them, their eyes widening or their teeth bared, bestowing me the same greeting as those outside. None of this warm welcome was dissuading me that these wolves were any different than those who took my home. They wanted me here about as much as I wanted to be.

I was led to a rich wooden room where the dying embers of a fire were petering out in an ornately carved fireplace. An elaborate hanging of deer antlers was suspended from the ceiling, illuminating the room with its light, and various animal heads furnished the walls on one side in a manner I hadn’t seen before. Were they real? How had they not decayed?

The same man stood centre-space, glowering me down, his anger palpable and unabated.

My mother always told me that as I grew older, there would be times when an adult lycan, for the sake of peace, would have to swallow their pride and offer a conciliatory move, to think of more than oneself. As much as I hated it, I offered out my forearm in lycan greeting, awaiting for the gesture to be returned… for Heather’s sake.

The man stared at it like I had presented a rotten carcass, regarding it as a bizarre oddity. Ignoring my arm, his furious eyes shifted to the she-wolf, and a second bout of irate remarks spewed from his mouth.

(“An outsider and a rogue? What were you thinking, inviting a stray mongrel into our pack!”)

Heather’s full lips pursed into a crimson line. A faint flare of anger washed over my mind – an emotion that wasn’t mine. It was hers. The bond was expanding, claiming me faster than I wanted.

(“He's my mate. What was I supposed to do? He was more wary of me than I was of him, so I didn’t see any risk. And just look at him”) – her hands waved at me up and down – (“isn’t our pack all for strong mates? This guy looks like he could bench press a redwood for breakfast.”)

(“Hmph.”) The man folded his arms, narrowing his dark green eyes at me. (“What’s your name, rogue?)

He stretched the word slowly, enough for me to distinguish it from the rest. I had heard the word ‘rogue’ before, used around me by others.

(“He’s… uh—”)

(“I wasn’t asking you!”) he barked when Heather spoke again, and she shrank backwards for the first time. (“I was asking you.”) He jabbed my chest. (“Your name?”)

‘He’s about to lose some fingers if he doesn’t remove his hand.’ Kirill began to stalk his confines, readying himself for a fight.

The air around the man swelled, flickering around him in the unseen energy once more. The sensation was beginning to add to my own irritation, and I contemplated whether it would be worth starting a brawl.

(“H-he doesn’t understand—”) Heather winced, her neck bending wildly to the side in submission.

(“So he’s a f*****g i***t? He should be able to understand my authority!”) the man growled, the air around him almost hazing and bending the light.

(“No…”) she gasped, her voice strained. (“He doesn’t understand English. There’s a language barrier.”)

(“Language barrier or not, what sort of wolf can’t feel an Alpha’s aura?! He should be on his knees by now.”) I hadn’t a clue what was happening, being said, why the man was so enraged by my presence nor why Heather was gasping under this invisible force, but it was escalating. (“What wolf did you bring onto our land?!”)

When he snarled in her face, a burst of fear replaced the out-of-body anger that had once flickered across my temples. An instinct took over, the urge flowing through me with a mind of its own, and its mind was set on Heather. I pushed her behind me, clutching her tightly around her waist and pressing her into my back, matching the man’s snarl with a reverberating one of my own.

‘Let me out this instant! I won’t have him scare our mate!’ My wolf was beside himself with a mounting rage, fuelled, as I was, by the unknown instinct.

(‘Now you get possessive, jackass.’)

The sound in my head startled me temporarily, shaking any idea of fight from my mind. It was a mind-link. I had never mind-linked with another. What she said was unclear, but I liked the fire in her eyes that I saw when I peered at her over my shoulder. Her fingertips stroked around my bicep, curving over my shoulder and down again in a soothing rhythm, enough to melt Kirill into a purring puddle.

(“Alpha Richard,”) she spoke in a calmer voice. (“I don’t think he’s ever been in a pack. He doesn’t know how to act and doesn’t seem to know our language. Just let me take care of him.”)

(“You want him? You can keep him on the edge of the territory. I won’t have a rogue dog near my year-old pup. And if he causes any issues, harms a single pack member or if I catch his stench near our den, I’ll kill him.”)

(“Fine. I’ll deliver him to you personally if he does.”) She smiled sweetly, but I heard the rumble of a growl behind her voice. (‘Come on,’) she whispered in my mind again, pulling me behind her and out of the wooden room.

Like my wolf, I could have melted upon hearing her sultry voice invade my mind, purring to me like a precious secret that only I was gifted.

The fiery-haired she-wolf yanked me from the large wolf den, the front of my shirt bunched tightly in her fist. Marching me past the few other wolves who stared at my unknown face, she didn’t drop her grip on my clothing until we hit the sparse and short treeline that studded a riverway near the ‘pack house’, as Heather had called it.

(“Are you completely out of your mind?!”) She whirled on me as soon as we were encased in our solitude, just her and me, alone.

Her fingers unfurled from the fabric slowly, smoothing over the imprint she had left behind. Her fingertips found the ridges and grooves of my stomach, tracing me beneath the material. My muscles tensed at the sensation of her gentle exploration of each furrow, and my chest rumbled, having never felt a touch like it or the soft pulsating tingles that followed in her wake.

‘You let her lick our wrist; the least you could do is allow her to lick elsewhere.’ Kirill wriggled his brows, nudging me with his insane desires. All of his previous rage was forgotten immediately at the first spark of her caress.

‘Down, mut,’ I growled. And with my growl, Heather’s touch retreated, stepping away like she had been singed.

‘You must stop doing that,’ my wolf tutted. ‘She’s going to start thinking you’re serious.’

Heather shook her head in a rapid, short burst, as though she was breaking out of a trance.

(“How could you stand the Alpha’s aura like that?”) She huffed loudly, flinging her hands up in the air in what I gathered was frustration. (“Goddess, you don’t even know what I’m saying.”)

She paced to and fro in front of me, most likely in thought, turning every so often to gaze out upon the sparkling waters. The light glinted in her deep chestnut eyes, flecked with gold, and the breeze that swirled around her harassed me with her enchanting spiced scent. I wished I could understand her words or what it was that she was so fraught over, but, fortunately, her expressions told me all I needed to know. And what I knew was that she was rather fetching when she was annoyed.

(“Ok, come with me until I can figure out where the hell I’m gonna keep you.”) She tried to take my hand, but I was at my limit of being manhandled and yanked around by this woman… and the sparks her touch caused drove my mind to unknown, strange places.

I wrenched my hand away from her and backed up, a warning growl rolling up my throat.

I hated how much this woman had such an effect on me that I had no control over. I hated how much my heartbeat soared when she drew near. I hated that each time I studied her face, I memorised a new detail. And I hated how her scent wrapped around my heart and reminded me of home.

‘When you put it like that, she sounds positively ghastly.’ Kirill rolled his eyes, not in the slightest bit convinced by my grumblings.

To my surprise, the she-wolf answered my growl with one of her own, baring her teeth at me. It was the first time she had shown me such aggression. Annoyed was not the only emotion that added to her allure. Anger suited her well, too.

(“Look here, asshole.”) She took one stride forward for every step I took back, until I was almost in the river. (“I just stuck my neck out for you with the Alpha! Quit being a prick and just follow me.”)

‘This she-wolf just grew a little more interesting.’ Kirill’s tail wafted in my mind as Heather spun on her heel and strode away with angry stomps. ‘You should challenge her. I’d like to see how she fights.’

‘I’m not fighting a female, fool. She could be hurt.’

‘I don’t think she’d be the one getting hurt. Or losing, for that matter.’

(“Well?!”) The irate she-wolf turned back to me and pointed at her heel towards the ground.

‘I think she’s telling you to be a good boy and follow, meat sack.’

I growled at my wolf, more irritated than ever that he was throwing caution to the wind when it came to this woman.

‘Careful. She’ll think that’s aimed at her, and she might flash those pretty teeth again. On second thought, I like the idea. Do it.’ He spun in excited circles like a pup.

Shoving my wolf away before he ran off with his ridiculous thoughts, I followed after Heather, keeping one step behind her so I knew what she was doing at all times. I added this to my list of mistakes I had made around the she-wolf, because all this did was bombard me with her scent of spices roasted over hot flames. She smelled of the air of my pack, of fire and life, a scent I had almost forgotten over the years.

My body leaned into hers automatically, drawn without my awareness to the site of her neck where the scent grew more concentrated. As my nose neared its destination, a sharp impact to my gut purged every last measure of breath from my lungs. I folded over, falling to my knees, and found my neck pinned between the she-wolf’s forearm and the tree at my back.

(“I’m only going to say this one more time, you colossal d**k! I’m getting real sick of this hot and cold thing with you. You don’t get to snarl at me and then protect me, push me away and then sniff my neck.”) She pressed into me further, her face steadily drawing nearer to mine. (“Goddess, I wish I knew why you hate me so much.”)

I wasn’t in pain, and if I wanted to, I could break free of her hold. Her fire was exciting, and my c**k spasmed with yearning throbs, wanting to claim this woman despite my own better judgement. My hands slid up across the fabric of her thin skirt and over her full, curved hips, gripping around her tapered waist. I was left transfixed and staring up into her eyes. Her pupils dilated as they flickered across my features, a swirl of black mingling with the shades of brown and gold in her irises.

‘Still think she would be hurt if we tussled?’ Kirill smirked, his tail continuing to waft in desire.

Her arm slowly released my throat, sliding along my beard-covered jaw. The soft pad of her thumb traced my bottom lip, and just as I closed my eyes in bliss, she pushed away and shook her head again, backing up from me. She spun around on her path and began muttering to herself under her breath. Stopping suddenly, she glanced back at me, where I was still on my knees, and held her hand out in my direction, shaking it impatiently.

‘Just do it,’ my wolf groaned in frustration with me. ‘I don’t have a clue what she’s saying other than wanting us to go with her somewhere. Hopefully, it's far away from that i***t man with the strange energy she keeps calling ‘Alpha’, whatever that means.’

I rose to my feet and approached her, hesitantly taking the hand held out to me. Her fingers slid against mine, grasping me firmly with a surge of tingling energy spiralling up my arm and settling in my chest. It was a sensation I was quickly becoming addicted to, and the one my skin began to crave when it was withdrawn.

She tugged me behind her, leading me to wherever she wanted, and I was powerless to escape the increasing hold her fire had captured me with.