Veiled Seduction (Tangled in Darkness Book One)

I sip my whiskey, wincing as its bitter heat scorches my throat, blazing a path down to my stomach. The door squeals, and a man shuffles quietly into the room, slumping his withered frame onto a battered red cushion at the bar. He’s right on time.

Shadows carve out his hollow features as he hunches over his drink, his shoulders rising and falling with a heavy sigh. This is it. All he has left. A ghost of his former self. He haunts this place every night, lost in the dark corners of his mind.

I hide my smirk behind my glass, watching the man drink himself into a stupor. Hours pass before he staggers to the door, and the bar’s chill trails out after him into the late-summer night. I drain my whiskey before leaving this dump for the last time. No one watches either of us go. No one cares. Not in this shithole, at least.

The man is nowhere to be seen along the empty streets. I inhale deeply, letting the familiar mix of body odor and cheap cologne guide me. The humidity from the recent rains weighs heavily on my lungs with each breath, while his scent grows stronger with every step.

It’s no surprise when I find him staggering toward a condemned apartment building nearby. He stops on the bottom step of the building’s short staircase. Instincts kicking in, he turns around slowly, his glassy eyes scanning his surroundings. They slide right over my hulking figure across the street before snapping back.

I tilt my head, staring until recognition flickers in his eyes.

He takes off down the narrow passageway beside the building, and I walk after him. By the time I reach the courtyard, he’s already halfway to the parking lot. My wolf paces restlessly beneath my skin, urging me to move as I stare at the spot where the man disappeared, gripping the beast’s leash tight—it’s all about control.

I kick off my shoes and peel off my sweat-soaked clothes, folding each item carefully. With my heart hammering in my chest, I stash my belongings under an overgrown shrub. Satisfied, I unleash the beast, and he gladly lunges to the front of my consciousness, hungry to take over.

A grotesque symphony rings out, forcing me to my knees as he breaks my body and devours my humanity, one bone at a time. A guttural scream rips from my throat as my skin splits, spraying blood all over the grass. Muscles tear and reform, sending shockwaves of pain through every nerve. The agony stretches on for an eternity before my skin begins to knit itself together, and a thick, dark-brown coat emerges, blanketing me in warmth as I regain some control.

Standing on digitigrade legs, I’m something different—suspended between my wolf’s image and my own. Unlike our werewolf counterparts, we Lycans have total control over our shift, allowing us to take on a hybrid, bipedal form.

My ears perk, listening for his feet slapping against the wet pavement, while a breeze carries his scent to me, beckoning me closer. A low rumble builds in my chest, swelling into a sharp howl that bursts into the starry sky.

Ready or not…

A shiver ripples through me. My fangs glisten in the moonlight as my tail lashes sharply behind me, anticipation thrumming through my veins.

I race through the streets, clinging to the shadows. The stifling air forces me to pant, and my tongue lolls from my mouth in an undignified manner. Rounding a corner, I spot the man sprinting toward an abandoned warehouse.

The closer he gets, the faster he runs—a clear destination in mind. He skids to a stop at its entrance and grabs a crowbar that just happens to be lying in the grass. I slow to a crawl, sniffing, but we’re all alone.

“X” marks the spot across the door as he wedges the tool under a board, prying it loose. The last one hits the concrete with a deep, resonant thud as my shadow falls over him.

He freezes, dropping the crowbar, his pulse hammering in his neck. The stench of his fear permeates the sticky air between us. Eleven heartbeats later, he finally turns to face me.

His eyes widen, frantically running over my towering frame as his brain scrambles to process the horror before him. He stumbles, losing his footing, and his ass hits the concrete so hard his teeth clack together.

He remains there, afraid to move, afraid to blink, afraid to breathe. It’s the usual response. I’m quite an intimidating sight, if I do say so myself. Judging by his reaction, I’m also the first shifter he’s seen in a shifted form, but that’s to be expected. It’s necessary to keep a low profile around humans. After all, we’d prefer to avoid mobs with pitchforks, thank you very much.

A dark spot blooms across his pants, spreading down his thighs, accompanied by a sharp, pungent stench that burns my nostrils. I sneer, wrinkling my snout.

“Wha-what are you?! What do you want?!” he stammers, his voice rising.

Speech is impossible in a shifted form, so I do the next best thing—I smile. I bare my teeth in a snarl resembling a grin. I’m confident it doesn’t look friendly as his eyes lock onto my muzzle, and a whimper escapes his trembling lips.

His eyes dart everywhere while I watch, head tilted, teeth bared. He begins inching backwards, toward the warehouse entrance. The movement is painfully slow until, finally, the back of his head bumps into the door. With surprising agility, he leaps to his feet, twists his body, and shoves inside. By the time I process what just happened, he’s already gone, the door slamming shut behind him.

The hinges shriek as I push in after him, the sound echoing through the vast, lonely space. Dust motes hang in the stagnant air, sparkling in the moonlight filtering in through the grimy windows. I listen for the patter of feet, but hear nothing besides my own claws clicking against the concrete floor. It doesn’t really matter, though.

I follow the man’s scent past rusted machinery toward a partially hidden door. Trembling with the urge to pounce, I grip the handle and pull hard, expecting resistance, but the door swings open with ease. The sheer force sends it slamming into the adjacent wall with a resounding boom, shaking loose chunks of concrete that clatter to the floor. The door’s rusted top hinge snaps, and a high-pitched crack whips through the air. The door teeters and groans before finally resting halfway on the floor. The silence is deafening.

Moonlight floods into the tiny room, casting my shadow across the man’s pale, sweaty face. He’s standing in the center, gripping a steel pipe, ready to swing. I flex my claws at my sides. Still, he raises the pipe higher, testing the weight. My ears flatten, and I bare my teeth as a low rumble vibrates in my throat.

“D-don’t come any closer!” he yells, refusing to look away. “I’m warning you!” He swings, as if that proves his threat is real.

I start closing the distance, and he squeezes his eyes shut, swinging wildly. He strikes my forearms several times in his blind attack, but none of it hurts. At all. I’m a little disappointed.

After the seventh strike, I yank the pipe from his slick grip and hurl it against the far wall, the high-pitched clang making him flinch. But he doesn’t dare open his eyes. He doesn’t even make a move to recover his weapon as he cowers, waiting for something to happen…but nothing does.

His eyes eventually find mine through a squint, and I growl a thunderous warning, forcing his gaze to my clawed feet. My lips peel back over my fangs. Good boy.

He clasps his shaking hands together as tears streak down his face. “P-please, don’t hurt me! I-I’ll do anything! Please!” he sobs, choking on each word. “I have a family!” he adds, risking a glance at my face.

I haul him to his feet by his hair, while my other clawed hand closes around his throat. His scream ricochets off the walls as I slowly rake his cheek, the scent of rust and salt flooding the room. He pulls at my wrist, desperately trying to free himself from my grasp, but I won’t let him get away. His screams become more raw and broken with every slash.

Eventually, I release his throat, and his body drops to the floor with a satisfying, meaty thud. Nonsense spills from his lips as a gruesome halo forms around his head, the light slowly fading from his eyes.

His mumbling fills the room as I kneel, pressing an obsidian tip into his throat and dragging it across in a sinister smile. His hands fly over the gaping wound, prolonging his gurgling existence as his life pools on the filthy floor.

The room falls into a cold hush when the only heart left beating is my own. Turning away from his lifeless form, I slink through the waning shadows and return to the courtyard.

Gripping my wolf’s leash, I pull hard, demanding he return. Pain seizes me instantly, bringing me to my knees once more. A ragged howl bleeds into the sky as my bones break and reset, their unwanted fragments quickly getting reabsorbed into my body. Lightning rips through my muscles, every fiber convulsing and shrinking to fit my diminishing frame. Skin sags, sloughing off onto the asphalt as new, smooth skin takes its place.

Before long, I’m left standing in my discarded wolfskin, completely naked. Completely human. The sun is creeping over the horizon as I toss it into a dumpster, strike a match, and drop it inside. The fire catches fast, its flames eagerly licking the blood-matted fur, burning away the evidence. I bask in their comforting heat as I slowly put my clothes back on. A new day. Another life.