The Heat #WATTYS2019

Chapter 35

Both of them felt it. It was a change in the atmosphere, that sent shocks of electricity dancing through their contrasting pelts— one as dark as the midnight sky of a new moon, the other as white as the bones of the multiple Wolves he'd killed. So beautiful, so morbid.

Geri and Freki could feel the powerful presence that was fast approaching from the North. They could smell the supremacy of the aura. It reached their very bones, and they knew.

Their Queen was close.

And their King was with her.

It was a warm morning, the birds were chirping in the nearby woods, when Geri had woken up, his white fur in clumps from the days of travel he'd walked. His head had risen, his delicate nose sniffing out the smell of the power.

It had taken no time for Freki to rise with him, and they'd both set off in a solemn silence. The time for games and jokes was gone.

A firestorm was coming.

•••

Fenris woke up before dawn to the sight of a dozen shadows slinking through the plain. They wove in and out of darkness and the Wolf was immediately alerted. The fire had been put out and the embers were glowing dimly in the moonless night.

Up in the sky, thunder growled.

Fenris knew it was danger, and he'd be damned if he didn't alert who he considered his Pack.

He rose, a stark ghost in the midnight blackness. His head tilted backward. A loud, carrying howl leaped from his throat, surging upward in the almost empty blanket of darkness.

Like a Queen waking up from Hell, his Little Wolf got up to her legs. She was so small but so fierce. He pitied her contestants as her hackles rose like a crown of deadly thorns.

Etna was next, her sandy tawny fur rippling over muscles that seemed to have been sculpted by years of the same exhausting routine— fight and run away. He fleetingly wondered what her story was.

The Beast and Morrigan shot up at the same time, both terrifyingly in sync. Like magnets, they gravitated to one another, and Fenris saw there a pair of fighters that had fought together more than one battle, and had come out alive. He admired them.

Finally, a twisted sliver of darkness, or maybe it was the darkness itself separated from the night and stepped into the light of the dying embers. As if it were fleeing that aura of death, the last orange glow winked out. Lycaon looked a picture of Bàs, the Death God, his pelt melting perfectly with the night's thick blanket of inky black. The ridge of hackles risen along his back was like a line of wrought-iron spikes. He was Bàs. It was a misty thought, there at one moment and then gone the next.

The first mercenary leaped out of the darkness, straight at Cassandra. It was a mistake, was Fenris' first thought.

No sane person attacked a Wolf like his Little Wolf. It was pure suicide.

And suicide it was.

Almost in slow motion, Fenris saw his soulmate raise to meet the male head on. As if her attacker were merely a prey, she snatched his throat, wrapping her strong jaws around the vein of life. The Wolf hadn't had time to land a proper hit on Cassandra before his throat had been torn out, dark crimson liquid splattering on Fenris' Little Wolf. Her muzzle was bathed in blood, little drops of it staining her sandy gray fur. The wolf slumped to the ground, dead.

She turned to her soulmate.

Attack.

Her voice was halfway a snarl, rough and dangerous. Fenris shivered in pleasure and respect.

Her golden eye was glinting with malice and another emotion that would most likely not bring anything good to whoever thought they stood a chance against this powerful machine of death. His lips raised to reveal sharp fangs that shone like daggers in the moonlight.

For you, whenever you want, my Alpha.

He lunged at the closest wolf, tackling it to the ground. His teeth slashed through the dark gray fur of the mutt's shoulder and met muscle. He tore through it viciously. The wolf whimpered in pain and twisted around, freeing himself and furiously ripped at his whitish target. If only he'd known that Fenris had been trained by the best, that Lycaon himself had taught him, that Spirits more powerful than every Wolf on the planet had drilled attacks into his head until he'd collapsed in the blood decorated snow.

The Wolf didn't see it coming. One second he was living and breathing, albeit a bit damaged, next he was dead, his spirit floating above his torn body. He was sucked away.

Fenris reeled on his heels, already seeking out his next kill. This wasn't a proof of dominance. He was aiming to murder. No one tried to attack his Little Wolf without consequences. Heavy consequences.

It seemed that Lycaon and Teras were thinking the same as they each lunged at the same Wolf who had tried to sneak up on Cassandra's blind side. They tore at his chest and flank, raining death upon him. They were like vicious Hellhounds, starved for killing.

Etna and Morrigan were fighting back to back, and respect bloomed in Fenris for the Rogue as she ripped into a large tawny wolf's throat. She grabbed the main artery, tearing it out, and his life at the same time.

Morrigan was like a tornado of powerful punched and deadly teeth as she demolished adversary after adversary.

Fenris turned just in time to crouch under a leaping Wolf. He sprung up just as the Wolf had reached the summit of his parabola, powerful jaws wrapping around the rib cage of his attacker. The bones broke under the immense pressure, and the wolf crumpled to the ground in pain.

He tried to get up, feebly snapping at Fenris. The whitish wolf was about dive in for the kill like a hungry shark when the wind suddenly shifted.

Female.

The Wolf was female.

A/N) soooo.... That happened.🙃
Just for precision:
Wolf = the species (Wolf)
wolf = the shape (canis lupus)
¿Entiendeís?
Vous comprenez?
Understood?
Habt ihr verstanden?
- Lexie

Do you think this book could become a best-seller? (Think with your head not with your love for this book)

I'd be elated it if did.