Howl (Lost Moon: Unravelling Monsters Universe #2)

Chapter 2

2

WESTON

New York City, The Second Realm/Earth, 1991

T he hotel staff here know me well enough to leave the newspaper on the coffee table each day. I pick it up, flicking through until I find my name on the fifth page.

New Multi-Millionaire on the Block. Weston Livingston has been spotted in New York City following the listing of his Silicon Valley-based telecommunications company LycanTech on the New York Stock exchange three weeks ago, which increased his personal fortune by over a hundred million overnight.

I skim the rest of the article. It’s filled with nothing but vague guesses about what I’m here for — none of them true in the slightest, because humans know nothing about the existence of the rest of us, know nothing about the other realm that controls so much of what goes on here, and therefore they have no clue that for the majority of this trip I’m here on shifter business. A familiar hollow feeling sits in my stomach, one that I thought would disappear once I became the pack’s alpha. It didn’t.

After that I thought that when the company listed, that when I found this level of success, that I’d feel more complete within myself.

I don’t.

I exist. I exist, I work, and I protect and provide for my pack. All the while I feel that emptiness like a ghost haunting me, whispering at the back of my mind that nothing will ever feel right.

Perhaps they are ghosts. I’m responsible for the existence of a few of them; enemies, people that threatened the pack, people that hurt my people. I’ve always been stronger than other shifters — we alphas are from the day we’re born — and it was only natural to fall into an enforcer role as soon as I had my first shift at thirteen. There haven’t been that many opportunities over the years to be in my true body, to let my wolf out, but on the rare occasions that a witch has removed our glamour I have shifted to take an enemy down, and I’m just as good at using my teeth as I am at using my fists.

It’s a far cry from the businessman persona that humans see, but living two lives is just a part of life when you’re a shifter in this realm. There are so many species that exist here, all disguised as humans, pretending day in and day out. If I could choose, we’d live openly, but it’s those in power in the First Realm that control the magic that hides us all in glamour, and all of us here have to live with it.

I set the newspaper back down and stare out the window, removing my suit jacket and leaving it hung over the back of a chair. My tie is next to go, and I feel a hell of a lot less constricted once I’ve loosened the first few buttons on my shirt.

I still need to make a few phone calls tonight; one to Sam, the pack’s beta, who I’ve left in charge in my absence, and one to my assistant. There’s still company shit to deal with even when I’m technically on a break and on the other side of the country, and it’s not even a surprise that in the first two days I’ve been here, three separate emergencies have been faxed through to the hotel for me to deal with.

The sky outside is growing dark, and the New York skyline is already glowing, Central Park a dark mass in the centre of it all. I’ve been coming here for years, to this same hotel, the same suite, twenty-two floors high at the Ritz.

I’m turning away from the window when a flash of blue light catches my eye, my mouth dropping open as I spot the spinning blue portal suddenly present in the park, the unmistakable feel of raw magic making the hair on my arms stand on end. “ Fuck. ” Who the fuck is foolish enough to open such a thing in the middle of New York? I press my head to the glass, straining in the dying light to see if any humans on the street have noticed the blue glow hidden among the trees. It’s moments like these where I long for my night vision, for my true eyes and my true body, and it adds to the temptation to hire a witch in a permanent position, someone who can remove the glamour in an instant.

None of the humans have noticed a thing. There must be a spell in place, to hide it from them.

Well I’m noticing. Three figures sprint through the portal, one carrying an object that glows gold. I don’t know what they are, they look human, as we all do when we enter this realm. They disappear from sight beneath the canopy of trees just as I spot a fourth figure leaping out of the portal, barely making it before it collapses behind her.

Her.

I only get the briefest glimpse, the quickest impression of her, but something in my chest twists at the sight, instinct telling me that she’s a wolf. The sudden urge I have to help this complete stranger is foreign to me; in general, I make it a rule not to get involved in business that doesn’t affect my pack. I shouldn’t care.

My wolf tells me I should. Go.

“Oh fuck it,” I growl, snatching my room key from the coffee table and heading for the door. I might be too late, but if I don’t go down there and find out what the fuck is going on, it’s going to gnaw at me for the rest of this trip. I don’t like shit going on in my territory. This isn’t my territory, but I come here often enough that this little space within Manhattan has begun to feel like it.

It’s the time of night where everyone is heading out to dinner, and the elevator down is painfully slow, stopping at multiple floors, the entire car filling with human bodies, the stench of perfume and cologne overwhelming. Not every sense has been taken from me by the universal glamour, and I can still smell almost as well as I can in my true body.

“Sorry,” a small woman whispers as her handbag catches my elbow, and I hold my breath for the final few floors, jaw clenched as I stare at the mirror glass that lines the walls. Even when masquerading as a human I often tower over the rest of them as I do here, and I catch the odd person glancing at me nervously. Humans are often so full of fear.

I don’t have time to waste, and I don’t give a shit what it looks like. As soon as the doors open I push past the crowd, ignoring the humans’ complaints, and head for the exit.

By the time I step out of the doors I can see the first three figures sprinting further down the street, illuminated by the lights of street lamps and cars. Pixies. I can tell by the clothing they wear, all bright colours and ridiculously ornate, with large holes in the fabric on their backs where wings should be, their outfits now pulled tight around their larger human bodies. The first one flags a taxi, and all three clamber in, just as the woman chasing them sprints out of the park. “No!” she yells, and I can see by the way her face contorts that she’d be snarling, were she in her true form.

When she runs into the middle of the street in busy traffic, I feel compelled to step in. She’s not thinking, too busy trying to chase a car that she’ll never catch, and I dodge the oncoming vehicles to get to her. I don’t know why I do it, only that my wolf knows it’s the right choice, and that intuition has never let me down.

“Hey, hey! ” I yell, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her back out of the path of another cab. She looks up at me, green eyes wide with shock, her nostrils flaring, and that’s when her scent hits me. Every other thought deserts my mind as I breathe in her , and it’s so fucking mind-blowing that all I can do is stand there, staring wordlessly as everything in my life suddenly alters.

Mate, mate, mate, mate, mate.

My wolf chants the single word over and over in time with my racing heart. The logical part of my brain registers that she’s a werewolf , not a shifter, but in this moment I don’t give a shit. She smells like heaven. She smells divine. She is a goddess among mere mortals. She is mine.

Her pretty face holds the same level of utter astonishment that I feel, and while my grip is still tight on her shoulders, hers is on my arms, her nails digging into my biceps as if she’s holding on for dear life. Her mouth hangs open in a perfect ‘o’, eyes raking over my face as she sucks in a breath, nostrils flaring, and I know she’s scenting me. Does her wolf say the same thing? Is she speaking to her now, filling her head with thoughts of fucking and mating and claiming? Of the idea that this person here is the one , a fated mate, and that you’ll never want another person for the rest of your life because no one else will ever come close?

The blast of a horn makes us both jump. We’re still standing in the middle of fucking New York traffic, cars lining up behind us, the lane brought to a complete standstill. “Get outta the way, ya fuckin’ idiots!” someone yells, and I tighten my grip on her.

“ Come on, ” I growl, unintentionally using my alpha bark. Her lips pull back in a sneer. That was the wrong fucking move on my part, and it’s not like it’s going to work on a werewolf, anyway, though she clearly felt the magic from it. Still, she allows me to drag her back to the sidewalk, although she’s constantly looking over her shoulder in the direction of the taxi that got away.

“They’re gone,” I tell her.

“I can’t —”

“They’re gone . There are ways to find them, but running around New York in those clothes is not the right method. You’ve already attracted a lot of attention,” I add, nodding my head in the direction of a group of onlookers.

The crease between her dark brows is deep as she looks around. “I have to catch them,” she says quietly. “They’ve stolen something, and the implications…” She pulls herself out of my grasp. “I should go.” When she glances back up at me I find myself momentarily lost for words. None of this makes sense, and I’m not some hero, but suddenly I want to be one for her .

“Let me help you,” I say with more gentleness than I usually ever use. “It’s dark, and they’re going to be impossible to track tonight. I’m staying in this hotel here. Come. Let me get you a drink and we can sit and talk. You can tell me what the hell is going on with those pixies. Then we can figure out the next steps.”

Her chin tilts upwards, and there’s a directness in her gaze that speaks of quiet strength. She’s no pushover, I can tell, and it’s not a surprise when she opens her mouth and asks, “Are you always this bossy?”

“Yes,” I answer truthfully. “I’m an alpha. My pack has over a hundred members. I run a large company. Making decisions is my job. I do it every second of every day.”

Her full lips purse for a moment. “Well I can make decisions for myself,” she asserts.

Sweetheart, you’re not in Kansas anymore. It’s with effort that I bite my tongue. Now that I’ve had more than a moment to process what’s in front of me, I’m hit with the seriousness of our situation. Shifters and weres don’t mix. Yes, we’re both wolves, but that’s where the similarities end, in my opinion. Werewolves don’t even have packs. They don’t form bonds with their brethren the way we do. They can’t transform at will. Their wolves are trapped behind the full moon. The elves call them the cursed ones .

I didn’t miss the way her jaw clenched at the words alpha and pack .

The phenomenon of fated mates is common enough to be accepted as a part of life for many species, but it’s still the exception rather than the norm. I’ve only known a dozen couples who are bound by fate, and all of them are shifters. I’ve never heard of a wolf shifter and a werewolf being fated mates, but if I’m to believe my wolf and his incessant chanting, that is apparently what we are. Plus, I can’t deny the way my body has reacted to her. Her scent is addictive. I want to taste her, my cock already growing hard at the thought of having her. I can smell the effect I’m having on her too, and if I was at all worried that this was one-sided, the scent of her arousal puts an end to those doubts.

It’s with effort that I force myself to focus on the conversation. “You can ,” I reply to her, “and I’d love it if you would decide to come with me, indoors, and out of the eyes of everyone that’s still watching us as if we’re some sort of freak show. We’re humans in this realm, remember, and we need to act like it.” I eye her outfit one more time; the outer robe, leggings, and laced leather boots she wears all belong in the Middle Ages. It may be First Realm fashionable , but here it makes her look as if she’s stepped out of a renaissance fair.

She practically has.

I’m half-expecting her to put up a fight about it, but she nods, the frown never leaving her face as her green eyes dart around, taking in the bustling city. “Alright. Lead the way.”

I gesture in the direction of the doors and she steps into line beside me. As we enter the bellman gives us a strange look, and my hand automatically lands on the small of her back, my wolf snarling she’s mine before I can even process what I’m doing. The scent of her is even stronger now that we’re indoors, flooding my mind and making it near-impossible to focus on anything but her.

“There’s a bar here, though at this time of night it will be busy. They’ll make room for us.”

She screws her nose up, glancing down at her clothes, then across to a couple crossing the wide foyer, both dressed appropriately for a dinner at the Ritz. “I’m not unaware that I stand out like this,” she says quietly, plucking at her robe. It’s too big on her, and makes me wonder how tall she is in her true form. “I didn’t plan to come through. I would have dressed in human clothing if I did.”

“I figured as much.”

She stands straighter, pushing her shoulders back, and there’s a certain strength in her eyes when she looks directly at me once more. She acts like an alpha. It’s a reminder of what she is, and what she isn’t. She’s not a shifter. She’ll never sense the bonds that exist within a pack. My alpha bark won’t ever work on her, and my magic — the magic that all shifters have that binds us as a whole — is something she cannot access.

“You said you were staying here?” she asks.

“I have a suite upstairs.”

I hear the click of her throat as she swallows heavily, her heart rate picking up again. If I had human hearing, I doubt I would recognise her nervousness, not with the air of self-assuredness that she exudes. She’s beautiful, and for someone who clearly didn’t intend to be here, she’s taking it all in her stride.

“I think…” she begins, brushing wide ringlets of her dark hair off her shoulder, “I think I would rather go somewhere private. To talk. I don’t like the idea of anyone else listening in.”

“My room, then?”

At her nod, I press the button for the elevator. It arrives full, and we stand back as another group of humans file out. I watch her scrunch up her nose at the lingering smells inside, but the ride to the twenty-second floor is a smooth one. She stares straight ahead, and I take the time to observe her more closely; her dark, curling hair, her delicate nose and full lips, her tanned skin and green eyes. I try to imagine what she must look like without the glamour — she has to be about five foot eight here, but I imagine she’d be much taller in her true form, and not quite so delicate. Every wolf is built the same; we’re built for strength, and she’ll be no different.

I resist the urge to touch her again, instead nodding when the doors open. “Ladies first.” Her smile is strained, and there’s a tension between us that’s uncomfortable as she follows me to the door of my suite. Well of course it is, she’s a fucking stranger that your body is going nuts for; you’re walking around with a hard-on for her and she knows it, you can smell her cunt from here and how it’s already dripping for you, your wolf is ready to claim her forever and yet you don’t even know her name.

“Oh!” she says as we step inside. The lights are off, and as the door closes behind us we’re plunged into relative darkness, the lights from the city outside only enough to see the general shape of the furniture in the room. With the universal glamour in place, we don’t have our night vision.

“Is this your first time experiencing the dark this way?”

“Yes.” There’s a tremble in her voice that wasn’t there last time she spoke. “I didn’t realise it would be like this. I thought… I know people say we’re blind in the dark in this realm, but the scents only seem a little dampened, so I thought this would be the same.”

“No, it’s different.” I take two steps over to the wall where the light switch is, and she screws her eyes shut as she adjusts to the sudden brightness. “The rule is always the same across species; if it’s a noticeable physical difference from humans, the glamour changes it. If you can’t see the difference, the glamour usually doesn’t touch it, or dampens it at most.”

“I find it hard to believe our ancestors decided that this was the best way forward with humans; hiding in plain sight, stripping everyone on this side of their features, of what makes them… them. ”

“This is your first trip to this realm,” I comment, and she shoots me a sheepish look.

“I guess I’m being really obvious, aren’t I? Clearly I knew all these changes happen immediately with the glamour, but it’s one thing to know it on paper and another to experience it. I don’t…” she trails off, looking down at her own body. “I don’t quite feel like me. I do, and I don’t.”

“It’s an adjustment,” I say. “When your body physically changes in an instant, of course it’s going to throw you off.”

“Yeah, well, we all know what that’s like, right? First change at thirteen?” She grins, eyes searching my face. “I didn’t know what to do with myself, having my wolf on the outside for once.”

“First shift , yeah. It was disconcerting for sure.” That is an understatement; being an alpha, the first shift changed everything for me, and not necessarily for the better.

“Of course. You’re a shifter,” she says quietly, the differences between us suddenly sitting heavy in the room. Her eyes travel up and down my figure, and I wonder what she sees when she looks at me like that. After all, the glamour is in place, and with it I’m not one of the golden-eyed wolves she’ll be used to seeing. Like she said, I’m not quite me , but I’ve lived in this realm my whole life, and the vast majority of that time has been while occupying this version of my body.

She steps further into the room, where chairs and couches sit around the coffee table. Her green eyes glance everywhere as she turns slowly, taking it all in. Eventually, she faces me again, her chest expanding with a deep breath. “I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Weston. Weston Livingston.”

“Weston Livingston,” she parrots back, enunciating each syllable slowly. “I’m Bronte.”

Bronte. It suits her. Strong and feminine all at once. Now that I’ve had more than a moment to process the situation I’m struck by how young she looks; if I were to take a guess, she’s at least a decade younger than me. “How old are you, Bronte?”

Her full lips curl in a wry smile. “Do you ever switch it off?”

“Excuse me?”

“The alpha. The boss man . Do you ever switch it off, or is this how you always are? I feel like I’m being interviewed for a job.” She’s grinning now, and I realise she’s teasing.

I consider my reply. I know she’s joking, but… “If you think I can switch off being an alpha, you’re going to find yourself sorely mistaken. It doesn’t work like that. I was born an alpha.”

“I know.” Her playfulness is gone in an instant, replaced by a far more serious tone. “I know . I’m not ignorant of what shifter wolves do. I’ve studied pack structures.”

I can’t hide the surprise in my voice. “You’ve studied pack structure? Why? Why learn about shifters at all?” In my experience, werewolves have always looked down on us. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve heard the term lesser wolf when outside of shifter territories within the First Realm. It’s a pervasive and toxic idea, spread by werewolves to help maintain the imbalance of power within the First. The Maheras family are the ones to blame for it; after the War of Wolves five hundred years ago, they took much of the old shifter territories for themselves, bolstering their empire, and it’s the reason packs like mine have lived here in this realm for so long. It got to a point where there was nowhere else to go but into hiding in this world dominated by humans.

“We’re all wolves,” Bronte says quietly, her brows furrowed. “I know we’re different but… there’s many similarities between us too, Weston.”

Mate , my wolf says once more, a whine in his voice, we need her .

I know, I tell him, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.