Whisper on a Scream
The werewolves are dying. Years of war between the Born werewolves and bitten, along with a lack of healthy bloodlines, has taken its toll on the race and if something isn’t done soon they will all be gone within the next fifty years. They are a strong breed, but have one major weakness that will probably end them all.
Werewolves – like their natural counterpart the wolves – breed for life; and if there is no mate, there is no life. A prolonged separation between mates can kill them more efficiently than any bullet ever could.
The Council are playing with fire when they use this very weakness against Sugar Lubec, the Born daughter of two bitten parents, to carry the offspring of Alpha Jack Coon. He is the leader of the largest werewolf pack in North America.
Ending the war between the two groups is the only thing that can save the werewolves and bring Jack and Sugar together. Can they do it before they end up paying the ultimate price for their long separation? Or will that price be the only thing that can end the war?
“Miss Lubec, though Alpha Coon's offer may be tempting, I must keep in mind the bloodlines from which you are descended. Your parents have killed off our race for over thirty years. They left you for dead and you were brought up by the human race. From looking through your records, I have come to the conclusion that you were raised to be a monster and you do it well. You showed signs of aggression at a very early age and showed no hesitation when it came to injuring people. Dangerous enough as a human woman, but a recipe for disaster as a werewolf because that is what you now are. As I see it, Miss Lubec, you are your mother's daughter right down to your good looks and quick wit.” Even though I knew nothing of my family, I now knew enough to know that this was a bad thing.
“But …” the second speaking member continued, “I am not the only member of this Council, and some feel you should be given a chance to thrive in a Pack-related environment, even if it is only an temporary experiment.”
The only person in the line up who looked at me was the woman on the end, Jack's relative. She was my saving grace, but she had a dangerous air about her. They say politics can corrupt an otherwise pure mind, and the longer you are exposed to them the worse it becomes – like standing next to a power plant and letting it turn your brain to cancer.
“Alpha Coon was right to offer the one thing we need, but I am denying you both that right. You will be allowed to live within the Pack for as long as you wish, but you will not be permitted to marry or have children within its ranks.” The woman at the end of the table flinched – as well as a woman of her age and condition could – but quickly covered it. I saw in that moment that she hadn't gotten the job for her lack of backbone or wit, and though she may have seemed decrepit, she was a force to be reckoned with. At the moment, I was just glad she seemed to be on my side.
Jack stood up, knocking his chair to the floor in his rush. “You're condemning her to death!” His features were twisted in hate and rage, as he pointed a finger towards the speaking elder.
I stood up and placed a hand on his extended arm lowering it gently. With it Jack's whole body sagged. It looked like my touch had the same affect on him as his did on me. A warrior's lace; the one thing that can soften a man of war is a woman's lace. A high school English teacher once told me why women like Lady Guinevere and Helen of Troy, though they were not the appointed leaders of their nations, could build them up according to the men they chose to love. The women could also be their death, depending on how the cards fell.
“No Mr. Coon, she will be permitted to marry outside the Pack if she chooses a human companion, but if you decide to once again ignore our commands, you will be punished with a death...hers.” The old man gave a confident nod of his head to signal the meeting's end and the group stood and filed out the way they came in, including the oldest woman, without a second glace in my direction.
Jack dropped his head into his hands when the room was empty. “They are testing my patience.” He voice made my lips curl into a frown. He sounded too confident for a man who feared this group so much.
I stood in back of his chair like a painted doll and stared at the clock...still ticking. Life goes on once again …
Cree Walker lives in Northern Maine, otherwise known as the part north of Bangor. There she lives with her partner in crime and most patient debate opponent and their two dogs, a Doberman Pinscher for snuggling and a thirteen pound Rat Terrier for security. She can be found most days typing away at the computer or because she's forced to, working a full time job as an advanced psychiatric technician for the local hospital. Cree Walker lives in Northern Maine, otherwise known as the part north of Bangor. There she lives with her partner in crime and most patient debate opponent and their two dogs, a Doberman Pinscher for snuggling and a thirteen pound Rat Terrier for security. She can be found most days typing away at the computer or because she's forced to, working a full time job as an advanced psychiatric technician for the local hospital.
Find Cree Walker here: