Mexican Sunset

Capítulo Uno: La Playa (The Beach)

Some might think he is being kind, but he will punish her when they get home for disrespecting rank and thinking too highly of herself. It is expected that he will. Encouraged by her pack. She knows this. This is why the Lobos Blancos are strong. They follow rules and punish rule-breakers.

Raul grabs her by the scruff of her neck, a humiliating way to be dragged home.

Unexpected is the reaction from the American wolf. "Wait, I demand forfeiture from the she-wolf," he says. "She has stolen something from me and my pack."

"What's that? Dignity?" Raul icily retorts as he releases Rosa from his warpath, "You know the rules," he spits in disgust. "A werewolf stealing from a human is a passable crime. Unless one of those wallets is yours-"

"The ring."

"This engagement ring?" Raul lifts Rosa's hand where she slipped the diamond on her middle finger in show-and-tell. "You may want to have a word with your fiancé." Raul mocks the American.

"She's the fiancé of a pack member, but it's still wolf law. You Mexicans must have laws too?"

His condescension does not go unanswered. Raul bristles and growls.

Before a fight can erupt in the middle of a very human pool party, Rosa speaks, "Did you track this woman all the way to Mexico, extranjero?"

"I'm here on business," Beta Cristoph answers, "And, I rarely have to track a woman to know that she is unfaithful."

Ah, all sorts of prejudice.

The terrifying thing is he doesn't have the desire to sugarcoat.

Beta Cristoph has the sharpest tone of finality tingeing his words when he says, "Penance must be given and by the person who has wronged."

Cristoph steps closer to her. Reflexively, Raul blocks his path.

"Back off," Raul denies him.

"I could demand her left arm for the injustice she's done my pack," Beta Cristoph claims.

"Then demand it," Rosa sizzles.

"-But instead," the American continues, "I'll take her in one piece. With me."

The American wolves are sadists. They incite violence by selling weapons and secrets to one pack in Mexico and, when all other packs are threatened to the point of extinction, they offer their own men to come and fight a problem they created. For a price.

"No," Raul barks, returning the diamond ring. "We don't sell our people into slavery. No matter how fond you Americans are of that tradition."

Now Beta Cristoph's calm exterior shatters. He moves fast, viciously imprisons Rosa in his arms and bites out, "What makes you think you have a choice?"

Raul's bones crack. Human eyes snap his way. This is wrong. Raul is mostly wolf now, and Rosa has the feeling that his wolf has felt indebted to hers for some time.

"¿Raul, podemos dejar de hablar de estas cosas?" Rosa begs. "¿Vamanos?"

"The American won't be capable of speaking at all soon, don't worry." Raul doesn't work with thinly-veiled intimidation. The threat is clear to Rosa, clear to Cristoph, and oh-so-very clear to the twenty or so humans clustering around them yelling "fight, fight, fight."

Rosa shivers. Her back presses against Cristoph's chest and he emits a low growl of pleasure. Raul fumes from the nostrils.

Before either male can make the first move, the stench of blood clots the air. Raul and Cristoph find its source in milliseconds. Rosa has a nail pressed against her left wrist, blood dripping down her fingers like artwork, "You can take my left hand," she whispers back at Cristoph. "The rest is mine."

The humans stay silent and disperse. It is too intimate for them. Some come crashing down from their highs, lose their sloppy grins.

Rosa tries to move but Cristoph doesn't let her. She makes the mistake of squirming around until she is facing him and caged within his arms. Desire. She sees it. He must know she does. That gleam is directed at her, a mere peasant wolf, and she lies to herself that she isn't affected by the smooth stone-like fixture of his arms and his russet eyes.

With all the grace of a wolf with blistering power, he takes the silk handkerchief from the lining of his tuxedo and cuts off her bleeding with a binding pressure.

"Then what about a night?" Cristoph offers as he caresses her lightly.

Raul watches them. Why does he just watch them?

"A night dripping with passion and writhing in pleasure. Your wolf is lonely. You are lonely, querida mía." Something flashes in his eyes.

He wants her and she has only ever had immature pups speak to her in that way. She does not rebuke him immediately.

Looking like he's lost his mind, Raul wrenches her away, dislocating her shoulder with a brutal pop in the process.

The pain gushes. Rosa wakes up and into realism, gritting teeth to the pain.

"She is Lobos Blancos and she will never be alone."

It is all Raul tells Cristoph, who looks just about ready to pave the path to destruction with Raul's skeleton.

"It's fine." Rosa shakes her head at the Beta before handing him the stolen items and turning her back rapidly before he has a chance to reply.

Keeping his distance, Raul corrals her toward his black Mercedes SUV.

Inside the car, the smell of the male on the stolen jacket she wears sets him off a notch more. He forcefully drags it down her arms. She swallows a scream from the stabbing pain in her shoulder.

She leans back tearing up and brutally snaps her shoulder into place.

Raul says nothing as the speedometer notches its way to 105. Out of fear for the leather seats, Rosa's claws stay firmly retracted but when they round the bend and the car almost crashes into the concrete barrier, she screams, "¡Cuidado!"

"Careful? You are telling me to be careful, querida mía?" The endearment is mocking. If anything Raul accelerates the vehicle at her whimpers. "Am I the one who shamed this pack by pushing around humans and batting my eyes at any foreign werewolf with rank?"

It stings, his hatred. More than the dried wound on her hand. More than the dislocated shoulder. And he's right.

"I know I behaved badly," she angles her body towards him, which may be a mistake because she is speaking directly to his wolf in a speeding car where only his peripheral vision is on the road.

"Still I had good intentions." She infuses those words with hidden meaning. He knows why she steals. It is for the humans of Tijuana. The poorest ones on the edge of losing everything. "I can't watch from a distance as people starve and die. Not when our pack won't do anything to help them. Not when I'll never have enough saved to make a difference."

"You are walking a thin line. And I can only protect you for so long."

"Raul-"

"Do you think you deserve special treatment?"

"No, of course not."

"No? Then prove it."

Silence descends.

Raul floors the vehicle and narrowly clips the chain-linked gate framing their compound. He grinds the car to a violent halt.

He wrenches open the passenger door, rips her from her seat, and pulls her by the arm. She keeps her head down as the wolf guards of Lobos Blancos eye her with annoyance and shame. It is not the first time she has been dragged home but it's definitely the loudest.

Raul takes her to the back of the compound and guides her down a long set of stairs. At the bottom, he throws her into the basement where they keep enemy wolves. A few such scoundrels howl as he pins her to the silver of a cage and it hisses against her skin. It burns deep into bone. She screams.

Raul undoes his brown leather belt.

It's not how she imagined it in daydreams.

"This I can give to you," Raul taunts, "A night dripping with passion and writhing in pain." He brings down his belt and whips her, possession licking each strike.