Wolf: Wild Ones by Kira Stone

Note: Prologue omitted.

The moon’s pregnant, white belly hung high over the Canadian evergreens. Billy gave it the finger, even as his body began to shift. He didn’t understand the biochemistry that transformed him from man to beast. All he knew was a full moon meant he was in for three days of sheer hell.

It had been that way for a couple months now. Each full moon he prayed he wouldn’t feel the tell-tale tingle rippling along his spine. Each month since that unlucky July evening when he’d been bitten by an enraged wolf he’d been doomed to disappointment. The change always came, no matter what he tried to prevent it.

It was more than just the transformation though. With the change came hunger. His appetite for food was only eclipsed by his craving for sex, and sating either hunger wasn’t exactly easy. He always went after big game so at least he could comfort himself with the knowledge that his victims stood a fighting chance. His human skin was scarred with reminders of each struggle, but he hadn’t lost yet.

Perhaps tonight he would.

His limbs contorted as they pursued a new shape. Hands became paws. Mouth became muzzle. Screams became howls. As the last vestiges of his humanity buried itself under a thick pelt of tawny hair, Billy pushed himself to his feet — all four of them — and sniffed the night air, searching for traces of hidden foes.

The Watcher was nearby.

The creature smelled different from other wolves… smelled almost like Billy himself, except that was impossible. There was no one like him.

Rage nipped at his hindquarters that another wolf would dare to enter his marked territory. It was an animal instinct his human side didn’t understand, to mark and defend. His wolf side demanded that the intruder be challenged. Tonight, Billy decided, he would do just that.

He loped down to the fast flowing river and then drank until he thought his stomach would burst. The change always left him dehydrated. And though he knew it would do little to assuage his hunger for meat, he munched down a rabbit that wasn’t quite fast enough to evade his powerful jaws. He needed more, much more. After he confronted The Watcher, he’d have it.

Or he’d be dead.

Either way, his problem would be solved.

Billy returned to the copse of trees where he’d gone through the change. The Watcher’s scent was still there. He’d tried on other occasions to track down the beast who’d been keeping an eye on him lately. The trail always ended in a tail-chasing circle. It had befuddled his animal mind, but the passage of time had brought about a blending between his human side and this creature he’d become. He could now think logically as a wolf, and use his animal instincts when he wore his human skin.

When it came to tracking down the interloper, logic prevailed where animal instinct had failed. He thought he knew how The Watcher could be found. Tonight, he’d test his theory.

Letting his wolf senses take the lead, Billy followed the scent trail through the woods. The invisible lines drawn by man to partition the land were beneath his notice in this form. He crossed into the territory belonging to the Iroquois Indians, a place where he’d be arrested for trespassing if he entered on two feet instead of four.

Some night bird gave a warning cry. Little furry critters scattered out of his path. The other animals sensed the tension in the air. Something dangerous was about to happen, and they didn’t want to be caught in the middle when it did.

The wind blew new information to his ultra-sensitive nose. The Watcher was close, and he wasn’t alone. Two more wolves had joined him. It was difficult to be sure where one stood in relation to the others, so close was their scent. Certainly, they were pack mates, living in the same den. And if they lived together, they’d fight together.

Three against one. The odds gave Billy pause.

This territory was his. He’d fought like the devil against other predators in the area and carved out a niche for himself. A lone wolf. A rogue. An outsider. He wanted to keep it that way. It would be far safer for their pack in the long run. Billy’d sacrifice one to save the whole from whatever evil, unholy thing he might become next.

But three against one? Surely they’d kill him. Part of him longed for that release from this nightmarish torment, but that part wasn’t currently in control. The animal in him said flight now would ensure he’d live to fight another day. Perhaps pick them off, one by one.

His decision made — at least for tonight — Billy started to turn tail and run. But then the scent of The Watcher came to him again, much stronger than before. Billy froze, his keen eyes searching the darkness around him. The surrounding forest was deathly silent, except for the sound of his own breathing.

A predator was near.

Slowly, Billy cocked his head to look over his shoulder. A pair of golden eyes gazed back at him. The beast was sitting there, waiting patiently. A skilled hunter watching his prey.

The circumstances had changed, and so had Billy’s options. To flee now would signal defeat. He’d lose face among the forest dwellers and once again be vulnerable to those he’d already bested. He had to fight now and hope the vestiges of his human logic that traveled with him in this form could out-think The Watcher and his pack mates.

Billy faced the threat, again sniffing the air to see if The Watcher’s companions had moved at all. They remained some distance behind him. Perhaps if he struck hard and fast…

Thought became action before it was fully complete. He bounded forward, prepared to knock his opponent down with sheer brute force. But when he landed, The Watcher wasn’t beneath him.

Billy looked around and spotted his quarry sitting several yards away, his tongue lolling out in a wolfish smile. Damn that creature to hell!

Leave or die, Billy yipped in warning. The temperature had dropped enough for his breath to curl up from his wet nose in spirals of white steam.

You’ll not find me so easy to kill, young one, The Watcher barked in return. Try me, if you dare.

He turned tail — a fine, bushy plume of white and gray which would be seriously attractive to his wolf form under other circumstances — and ran. Though knowing it was exactly what the large wolf expected him to do, Billy gave chase. His human form was lean and powerful, and it had only strengthened since he started spending three nights a month in a fur coat. He expected his opponent to be slow and fat. No creature of that size could be all muscle, could they? But every time he thought he was within striking distance, The Watcher would lengthen his lead, driving Billy howling mad.

The chase went on, darting through trees and fields and rocky patches with equal ease. Billy knew every square foot they covered, having claimed a good portion of it for himself. The Watcher seemed to know it well too, avoiding the illegal traps set by human hunters and the many natural pitfalls that could break a leg or a neck of one less sure-footed.

The longer the chase went on, the more winded Billy became. His preferred method of attack was brutal and direct. Kill clean and kill quick. This protracted chase was draining his energy reserves. If he got the chance to fight and devour his foe, sex would have to wait. He simply wouldn’t have the energy to do both in one night, as had become his custom. Which meant, he suspected, tomorrow his needs would be twice as strong, leaving him less in control of the wild impulses driving him.

Damn The Watcher’s furry hide!

Even now he struggled to control his animalistic impulses. His balls were high and tight with the need to rut. No fluffy females for him though. In both human and wolf form, his sexual interest was all male.

As he bounded over another minor tributary in pursuit of his quarry, he thought briefly about sinking his balls into the icy cold water to cool their burning ache. He slowed, and then stopped. He still wanted to fight, but sexual release would purge some of the animal influence from his brain, allowing his human side more room to think. Could he risk the time it’d take to spill his seed here?

The Watcher ended Billy’s internal debate with an attack from the rear that sent him rolling across the rocky ground. He got his paws back under him, then lunged at his foe, growling and snapping.

The larger wolf danced away, and Billy gave chase. If it took him all damn night, he was going to make that wolf pay!

But that task would be far from easy. No matter how Billy twisted and turned, The Watcher stayed in front of him. If Billy tried to cut him off, the big beast always found another way out. It was like chasing smoke. Elusive and frustrating as hell.

Billy figured all this running had to be taking a toll on The Watcher as well. He had more weight to carry, and must be using up his energy just as quickly. Billy was small and fast, and could wait until the big creature wore himself out.

Or could he?

The Watcher’s companions were still in the area. Occasionally their presence registered in Billy’s sensitive nose. They were watching the chase without getting involved. But why? He’d surely lose if they all attacked him at once. He no longer had the strength to fend off a coordinated effort.

Again, human logic tried to assert itself. He didn’t have to stay here. To the north he could find another range, one without a pack…

The animal within him rebelled. He’d defend his chosen ground or die in the attempt. He’d not be chased out by some thick-tailed lout who was too chicken to make a stand.

So on the pursuit went until finally the large timber wolf took a tumble in the middle of a small clearing. Before he could roll to his feet, Billy was on him. The Watcher’s powerful legs launched Billy into the air. He let out a surprised yelp as he landed on his back, then got to his feet, prepared to attack again.

Two shadows broke from the ring of trees and circled the clearing in a tense crouch, watching the fight. The split second Billy took to notice them gave The Watcher a golden opportunity. The larger wolf barreled into Billy. His sharp claws ripped into the creature’s belly as they went down in a jumble of flailing legs. Fresh blood splattered on Billy’s coat. Momentum separated them, but the coppery smell clinging to his bib of white fur caused Billy to salivate. The small, relatively rational part of his brain that informed him he was over-matched was quickly smothered by the intense hunger which urged him to press his attack on the wounded creature.

The Watcher’s pack mates howled. Let us help! Is it time?

Time for what, Billy wondered, even as he landed on his adversary’s back. If any doubt lingered that The Watcher was fat and lazy, it quickly vanished as Billy was again tossed into the air like a rag doll. He was powerful, and it would take a lot more luck than the fighting skill Billy currently possessed to come out the winner in this match.

Not that he would consider surrendering. Ever.

Billy sprang again, this time aiming lower. His intent was to hamstring his prey in a hit-and-run attack. He got a mouthful of hair for his trouble, barely nicking his opponent’s haunch.

However, the near miss seemed to change The Watcher’s game plan. He barked out one short command. Now!

The other wolves unleashed their pent-up fury at the one who had dared to challenge their alpha. The fight only lasted several seconds more. Exhausted, Billy had no chance against their well coordinated attack. He went down swinging though, leaving yet another stinging reminder of this night by slicking through the skin over The Watcher’s heart. But then, finally, he was beaten to the ground and held there by the two smaller wolves.

With one set of fangs poised to bite off his balls and another set locked around his neck where any slight move might puncture his jugular vein, Billy remained motionless. Scared. Defiant, even in the face of death.

Then the most amazing thing happened. The Watcher began to shift.

Though part of him was shocked to see another make the transition — did it always look like a thousand mice were struggling to free themselves from his skin? — Billy finally admitted to his human self what his wolf-side had told him long ago: there was at least one other like him.

The Watcher was equally impressive with two feet as he was with four. Standing well over six feet tall and broad at the shoulders, there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. His hair was a dirty blond. Inky black wetness criss-crossed his torso where Billy’s claws had lashed his skin. The wounds didn’t look life-threatening, but Billy was glad he’d managed to leave a mark. The Watcher’s distended penis hung between his powerful thighs, but he paid his rampant cock no more attention than he did the deep scratches across his belly and chest as he approached.

“Thank you, my friends,” he said softly to his two pack mates.

The wolves whimpered in submission, relief and love, though they didn’t move from their threatening postures.

The large man kneeled between them and looked down at Billy. His eyes were sooty black and held too many complex emotions for Billy to understand. What came through strongest was a grim determination. Billy tried not to tremble in fear when The Watcher reached for him.

“It’s time you learned a lesson in defeat, little one.” The man’s hands clamped down around Billy’s throat and squeezed off the air from his lungs.