Veiled Seduction (Tangled in Darkness Book 1)

Prologue: Retribution

I sip my whiskey, wincing as its bitter heat scorches the back of my throat, blazing a path down to my stomach. The door squeals, drawing my attention away from my drink and onto the man across the room, quietly shuffling to the bar.

He drags out a stool and slumps his withered frame onto its battered red cushion. After wetting his lips, he orders a drink, desperate for the liquid salvation. The bartender slams a beer bottle down in front of him, and he seizes it in a white-knuckled grip. He takes one long pull, draining half the bottle before setting it back on the bar's scarred surface.

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 finally calls it a night, and fishes his wallet out of his baggy brown slacks. After settling his tab, he staggers to the door, and the bar's chill trails out after him into the late-summer night.

The door swings shut, and I drain my whiskey. The liquor is still burning as I follow in his steps, leaving this dump for the last time. No one watches either of us go. No one cares. Not in this shithole town at least.

The man is nowhere to be seen along the empty streets when I step outside. I inhale deeply, letting the familiar mix of body odor and cheap cologne lead the way. The humidity 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's been squatting here since he ran away from our sleepy little town two weeks ago.

He places a foot on the bottom step of the building's short staircase and stops. 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, wondering if he'll finally realize who I am. What I've done.

Recognition soon flickers across his face, and he takes off down the narrow passageway beside the building. With a smirk, I sprint after him.

He's already halfway to the parking lot by the time I enter the courtyard. But instead of following him, I remain rooted to the spot, eyes fixed on the place where he disappeared from view. My wolf paces restlessly beneath my skin, urging me to move, but I grip his leash tight. It's all about control.

I kick off my shoes and peel off my sweat-soaked clothes. After carefully folding each item, I place it in a neat pile off to the side. With my heart hammering in my chest, I stash my belongings under an overgrown shrub, teetering on the cusp of transformation. Satisfied, I unleash my wolf, 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, and my blood sprays the grass. Muscles tear and reform, sending shockwaves of pain through every nerve.

The agony stretches on for an eternity before my skin finally begins to knit itself together, soothing the throbbing ache. A thick, dark-brown coat emerges, blanketing me in warmth as I regain control, holding my wolf in place.

Standing on digitigrade legs, I'm something new. 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 the sound of his feet slapping against the wet pavement. 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.