ONC 2022 shortlisted: The Emergence of a more virulent lycanthrope virus decimated civilisation. As a street scavenger, Gulliver Chase risks his life in his home city's derelict streets hunting for resources for his fellow survivors. But it isn't fo...
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He'd been knocked out. The awareness of that revolved with his gut, then solidified into dull pain. He didn't open his eyes, his other senses giving him more than enough intel for him to know he was not alone.
Panting breaths—soft but ragged. Close enough to wash hot breath over him. Weight against his shoulders and hips pinned him to mouldering office carpet.
"I know you're conscious, Red."
The low, amused words set off conflicting emotions. It wasn't Stroya who'd caught him. That was good news in that he was unlikely to be immediately bitten and Changed. But on the downside...
He opened his eyes, stared into glowing wolf eyes.
Zera bared her fangs. "No jumping out of windows."
"I didn't know you cared."
Another snarl. "We've unfinished business, human."
"Sorry, no free meeting slots today. Let's reschedule for, say, never." Gull could see little of the darkened office, the lycan's matted hair black ropes either side of his face, but he felt the short nap of carpet under his hands, heard light rain, drops that hit the building in a musical patter. He was on the floor beside the office window he'd planned to jump out of. He hadn't lost consciousness long—only a few seconds maybe.
Zera lowered her stare, bringing them nose to nose. "What did you inject into me, Red?"
"As you're still breathing your dog halitosis all over me, I'd say it didn't work and doesn't matter."
The lycan stilled a second, then sat up to huff a breath into one hand—sniffed the result. Her nose wrinkled. "Hmm, retired banker. Nicely aged. Good fat marbling. The cigar and plum notes suggest he liked a good merlot."
Gull stared at the lycan. He had limited experience conversing with bloodthirsty canine–human mutants, but the sophistication of this one's sarcasm struck him as wrong. Too much self-awareness.
Zera cocked her head, ratty hair sliding to one side along with a pinstriped sleeve, exposing a lean, muscled shoulder. Her pose in another time and place might have been provocative. Before the Emergence, a female in nothing but a business shirt would've held more than a passing fascination. But the skin exposed now to the moon's watery light was stained, patchy, and dark.
Bruises, blood, and grime. The vestiges of battle and maybe the bodily fluids of an unlucky ex-banker.
"Like what you see, Red?" Amusement.
"Uh huh. It's super sexy when a woman is still wearing her last meal and smells like a week-old corpse."
Zera rolled her eyes. "Stop trying to make me angry so I'll kill you. You're pack. I can only hurt you—badly—and that'll make it more difficult for you to escape."
"You're not going to let me escape."
"Tell me what I want to know and I promise I'll let you run."
