Page 7 of Barely Breathing (Merely Mortal #3)

Chapter

Seven

Don’t stare.

That advice becomes impossible the moment we step inside. The chaos of the werewolf courtyard is a nightmare that has come to life. Heavy metal music pounds through my bones, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Fallen bricks and rusted scaffolding create a maze-like enclosure that feels more like the opening of a deathtrap than a party space. Every exit I spot disappears in the shifting shadows behind the fierce creatures who party here.

The smell of meat and beer mingles with the hint of wet dog. A pile of discarded, broken liquor bottles is next to a wall. I see a flash seconds before I hear glass shattering as another joins its forgotten friends .

I can’t see the moon, but I know it’s there by the color of the light. Bodies writhe around the burning oil drums, human, wolf, and some caught in that horrifying in between where bones crack and reshape, where skin splits to let fur push through, where human screams turn to animal howls.

Costin’s hand rests possessively on my lower back, his touch both steadying and electric. My lips still tingle from our kiss, and I can taste the faint copper of my blood where his fang nicked me. The puncture is raw, but the bleeding has slowed. Even here, surrounded by danger, part of me wants him to do it again. By the way his fingers flex against me, I know he can still taste my blood too.

Blood and moonlight.

The words echo in my head like a warning. Draakmar’s consciousness presses against mine with increasing urgency. The dragon knows something I don’t—something about Costin, about the wolves, about all of this. But, like trying to remember a dream, the knowledge slips away whenever I reach for it.

A woman dances topless on a metal platform, her body covered in tribal tattoos that travel like living things over her skin as she moves. When she throws back her head to howl, I watch in horror as her jaw dislocates. Teeth elongate past her chin in a grotesque display of partial transformation. The crowd cheers, the sound primal and hungry, and I realize not all the meat is being cooked as some of them are feeding on raw meat torn from carcasses.

I lean into Costin. “Is this a celebration?”

“No. This debauchery is every night.” Costin’s touch makes me shiver despite the heat from the fires. His fingers possessively dig into my hip as he jerks me closer. “Stay close. The Alpha’s protection will only extend so far, and some of them look ready for a hunt. If something happens to us, he’ll claim my presence provoked it.”

I notice how some of the wolves watch the vampire in their midst, their golden eyes glowing with barely contained animosity.

A motorcycle revs before tearing through the courtyard, nearly clipping several dancers. The half-naked woman leaps off the metal platform with inhuman grace, her spine cracking and reforming mid-air as she tackles the driver. They hit the ground in a tangle of limbs and partial transformations, blood and fur flying as claws emerge. The riderless motorcycle careens into a wall, exploding in a shower of sparks that illuminates dozens of glowing eyes in the darkness beyond.

I grab Costin’s arm as the driver and the dancer start brawling in earnest. I press into him, trying to get him to walk another way. He doesn’t obey. Instead, he brushes my fingers off and tries to step in front of me. I don’t let him.

A laugh draws my attention to a dark corner where a young girl plays with entrails. The sound doesn’t belong here, and my first instinct is to run to protect the child. But before I can find a path toward her, she turns to reveal the face of an ancient crone. Sharpened teeth gleam as she bites into her meal. I gag and recoil in horror, but the image burns itself into my mind.

Two massive wolves break away from the crowd, deliberately padding toward us. Their fur is matted with what looks like blood, but when the men shift to human form, the red streaks appear too bright against naked flesh. It’s probably paint. Glowing eyes meet mine.

“Vampire,” the taller one sneers. “Your kind is not welcome here.”

“I have business with your Alpha.” Costin’s voice carries over the music.

“Let him stay.” The shorter wolf laughs, but it’s not a pleasant sound. “I like an enemy who can fight back.” His eyes fix on me, nostrils flaring. “And you brought a snack? How thoughtful.”

Laughter rises.

Costin moves so fast that I barely see it. Suddenly, he has the wolf by the throat, his feet dangling above the ground. “She is mine. Look at her again, and I’ll tear out your eyes.”

The music cuts abruptly, and the silence feels heavier than the bass had been.

“Release him,” someone orders.

“Kill him!” another growls.

The pack surrounds us like a fist closing. Voices erupt in roars and howls that are more animal than human. Bodies begin to shift en masse, the sound of cracking bones and tearing flesh filling the courtyard. I spin, looking for escape, but we’re trapped. The gate we entered through has vanished behind a wall of transforming bodies. The smell of blood and fur is overwhelming, and I worry that maybe I’m wrong and the red spattering isn’t paint.

“Costin,” I manage, barely getting the word out. What was I thinking? This is too dangerous.

“Costin,” repeats a burly man with fur crawling up his forearms before yelling louder, “Constantine!”

The wolves back away like a wave retracting from shore as the word circulates amongst them.

“Shall I remind you of the treaties?” Costin asks the creature he had lifted in the air.

“No,” the wolf manages, the sound strangled.

Costin releases him, and he drops to his knees. I sense he could stand if he wanted, but he remains on the ground, head bowed. Heavy pants of air escape him .

“Now,” Costin says pleasantly, dusting his hands. “I believe your Alpha is expecting us.”

“I’ll take you,” the burly wolf says, his fur receding as he completely shifts back to human. He lifts his hand, and without having to ask, someone throws a pair of jeans at him. He catches it without looking. Unlike the others who remain naked, he slides on his pants. “Forgive them, Lord Constantine. They’re young and are amped up with anticipation of the full moon. They do not recognize you or know what you have done for us.”

Costin doesn’t answer. I wonder what he’s done for them. I doubt anyone will tell me.

The wolf eyes me. I pull the amulet out from under my shirt as if that might somehow make me scarier. It doesn’t seem to.

“I don’t expect you’ll remember, but we met roughly fifty years ago at the last treaty negotiation,” the wolf says to Costin.

“Good to see you again, Sully.”

Sully’s lip twitches up at his side.

“I’m Tamara Devine,” I say when Costin doesn’t introduce me.

Sully looks at me in surprise and nods his head. He gives me a seductive once-over—if you can call a giant werewolf looking like he wants to tear off your clothes and devour you seductive . “The mortal Devine. I have heard of your battles with Draakmar. Impressive. I also heard you are recently single after you called off your engagement to?—”

Costin grabs my arm and pulls me next to him, effectively stopping the flirtatious comment before it fully forms. Typically, I’d want to say something about women not being property and whatnot, but I’m not too stupid to admit I’m grateful he’s laying claim to me. I don’t think I could survive a werewolf courtship. This Sully is not Peter, that’s for sure. I’m not sure the word no would stop Sully’s romantic advances.

“My mistake,” Sully says. “Follow me. Alpha Thane will see you now.”

It is clear Sully is considered a leader by the way the others part to let him pass. He leads us through the chaotic throng to an abandoned factory building. He gives a short grunt. A metal door groans open to reveal a long corridor lit by flickering fluorescent lights. The walls are covered in claw marks, telling stories of fights and displays of dominance. They look centuries old if the edges of rust and crumbling concrete are to be believed.

The heavy metal music resumes over the courtyard, as does the partying. Someone closes the metal doors, and instantly, the music is stifled, separating this part of the werewolf enclave from the outside. Though I appreciate being away from the others, I now feel trapped .

And underdressed.

I pull at my T-shirt, glad it doesn’t have some fuck-off band logo on it. Running shoes sounded smart when I put them on. Now I hear Astrid’s voice in my head lecturing me about propriety and etiquette. She would have probably put me in a dress for an audience with a werewolf king.

Maybe it won’t matter. This hardly seems like a palace. I also hear Astrid’s voice telling me that werewolves are dirty, feral creatures and part of the lower echelon of the supernatural world. It’s possible she’d have recommended a hazmat suit over a dress.

Water drips somewhere in the darkness. My shoes thump against the concrete floor, the sound heavier than the two larger men with me. I consciously try to step lighter.

I find I’m gripping the amulet like the talisman it is. Steel and concrete give way to exposed brick. I can’t tell what forgotten purpose this building was initially used for, what old-fashioned products it would have spit out that the world no longer wants. There are many like it in the city, scattered pockmarks that give home to vagrants and the supernatural.

The further we go, the more the décor changes. Bricks morph into polished stone. Torches replace the fluorescent lights, casting dancing shadows that make me edgy. Costin stays close but doesn’t touch me as we walk. His shoulders are stiff, and each movement seems measured.

“The Alpha likes to remind us of where we came from,” our guide explains, noticing my interest in the transition. He gestures to an ornate door ahead, carved with scenes of wolves hunting under a full moon. It’s not the sanitized hunting of nobility but the raw, primal chase that makes other supernaturals fear them. Even so, hunting might be too nice of a word. It looks like they’re chasing humans. “He calls it progress. We are not who we once were. I personally hate the torches. They need to be replaced too often. But then these are not my decisions to make.”

Costin makes a small noise of disbelief.

The guide hears it and smirks. I see a challenging light in his gaze as it fills with gold to threaten a shift. “Don’t mistake progress for weakness. The treaties might force us to play nice, and they might restrict us to these industrial territories while the vampires get their mansions and the magics get their estates. But we remember what we really are.”

My heart beats fast. I don’t know what to expect as the door opens to reveal a throne room out of a gothic nightmare. It’s not what I would expect after seeing the outside of the building.

Classic rock plays. Voices carry like a soft murmur, nothing like the chaos outside. Couches, chairs, and tables form conversational areas. Scantily clad men and women enter carrying trays filled with food and drinks like waitstaff.

The ceiling is high as if the floors above had been cleaved out to make space. I see openings along one wall, the exposed rooms left after the cut, stacked three stories up. There is no rail to keep people from falling over the edge, but I see them moving around up there. Some sit around a poker table. Others watch television or play video games. A spiderweb of chains hangs like an industrial chandelier. Wolf sculptures that come out of their stone bases in an eternal struggle fill the walls, as beautifully detailed as any statue found in Rome.

“Jack,” a voice yells. “Get up here!”

I watch a half-shifted werewolf leap from the ground up two stories to the room where they play video games. Seconds later, another jumps down to take a beer off one of the trays.

“This way.” Sully takes the lead as we approach the Alpha.

Costin nudges my arm to walk. I hadn’t realized I’d stopped to stare.

At the far end of the room lounges a dangerous-looking man on a throne made of welded metal and leather. He’s not shifted, but his long brown hair falls wild around his naked shoulders. Tattoos cover his massive chest, only to disappear down his waist into his leather pants. His eyes are wolf-gold and unwavering, suggesting he’s powerful enough to hold partial transformation indefinitely. That gaze fixes steadily upon us. I’m unsure why his bare feet suddenly hold my rapt attention, but it’s better than meeting his eyes.

Thane lazily rests his head against his fist, but there’s nothing lazy about the predatory focus in his gaze. As we approach, I find myself hyper-aware of Costin beside me, wanting to press closer to his familiar darkness rather than face this wild, untamed power. The memory of our kiss outside burns through me, making me wish we were anywhere but here.

“Alpha Thane,” Costin says, holding out his hand to get me to stop moving. I glance upward. The Alpha shows fangs as he grins.

“Constantine,” Thane rumbles. Dropping his arms to his legs, he leans forward on the throne. “Have you come to renegotiate our arrangement?”

“This isn’t about that.” Costin’s clipped voice contrasts with Thane’s boisterous tone. I feel Costin reach for my back, fingers flexing against me like a warning.

“Arrangement?” I whisper, not liking how Thane’s wolfish smile widens at my question.

“The treaty between our kinds,” Costin mutters dismissively, but there’s tension in his jaw that wasn’t there before.

Thane laughs as if he hears us, but I don’t get the joke.

“Ah yes, the treaty.” Thane’s eyes gleam with dark amusement.

Sully whispers in Thane’s ear.

“The mortal girl who tamed a dragon and saved us all.” There is something in Thane’s tone that doesn’t radiate gratitude. If I had to guess, he’s mocking me. “I’ve heard interesting things about you, Miss Devine.”

His massive form dominates the space, radiating a raw power that treaties and politics can’t fully contain. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that he was chosen for his size alone. I’ve heard stories about werewolf hierarchy and how they spill blood to climb their ranks. Thane is not Alpha because he was voted in.

“Tell me,” he continues, in that same smug tone, “does your vampire master let you wander far from his territory? Or does he keep you on a shorter leash than he keeps us?”

“Pleased to meet you, Alpha Thane,” I say, not taking the bait.

For some reason, this causes him to laugh again.

“You are a long way from your penthouse tower, little princess. I’m surprised Mommy and Daddy let you out to play.” He slowly stands. The motion is full of power as his golden eyes gleam with savage pride. “Here, we don’t pretend to be something we’re not. No fancy etiquette or little niceties you elites love so much. You are not pleased to meet me, just as I am not pleased to have your escort the vampire king in my court.”

I look up at Costin, who says nothing as he holds himself tense. I notice the noise has lessened, and the werewolves are watching us. The beasts are doing nothing to hide their animosity toward him. He keeps his eyes on Thane.

I’m too scared to speak. I don’t know what to say to the man. Automatically, I touch the amulet to remind myself he can’t kill me.

“Now, princess, what brings you to my humble abode?” He waves to encompass the throne room. It may be industrial in a scary part of the city, but it is far from humble.

Costin nods that I should speak.

“You have something that belongs to the Devines,” I manage as I feel Draakmar stir again within the amulet. The dragon’s agitation feels like a warning, but about what? The wolves? Or something closer to home?

“Do I?” Thane’s golden gaze shifts to Costin and then back to me .

“The mortal man taken by your wolves a week ago,” I tell him.

I catch Costin and Thane exchanging a look that makes my blood run cold. There’s something passing between them, some unspoken understanding that I can’t quite grasp. I wonder what would happen if they were alone and there was no treaty keeping them in line. The amulet pulses against my chest, and I wonder if Draakmar is trying to tell me what I’m missing.

I know werewolves and vampires hate each other as a rule. Is that what is causing the tension between them?

Maybe Draakmar is messing with me because he’s mad I forced him back underground.

Maybe the dragon is bored.

“Paul Cannon,” I clarify. “He’s Devine protectus. Return him.”

“Is he?” Thane studies the amulet around my neck.

“Yes,” I insist. “I demand you release him to me at once.”

“I think that dragon has gone to your head.” Thane comes toward us. The sound of the werewolf laughter reminds me of gravel in a blender. “Your kind wrote the rules to keep us contained, but nature doesn’t bow to paper laws.”

Nervously, I look around. Movement along my peripheral catches my attention. Peter stands partially hidden by shadows near a statue of a wolf eating a man. When our eyes meet, he subtly shakes his head in warning.

“Or what, little human? You’ll start a war between magics and wolves?” He shakes his head. “Do your parents know you’re here making threats?”

I am out of my comfort zone. My parents spent my life protecting me from creatures like this. There’s history here, dark and dangerous.

“He’s claimed as Devine protectus,” I say, my tone not as brave as before.

“And why should I believe that? Let the Devine I have affronted come forward with the claim.” Thane leans his face into mine. “Because we know as a mortal you don’t have the authority or the power to make such a mark.”

He knows I’m lying.

I feel Costin tense beside me.

“Do you have him?” I have to actively tell myself he can’t kill me. But as I watch Thane and Costin exchange looks, I wonder if death is really what I should fear.

Thane gives a small nod, but it’s so slight I’m unsure if it’s an answer or just an acknowledgment of something passing between them that I don’t understand .

Costin is being of little help, so I look at Peter, who is still watching us. My eyes then move to the others. Werewolves stand above in the alcoves, staring down. I feel as if they might leap upon us at any moment.

“Give her the mortal,” Costin finally says. “We’ll settle the account later between the two of us.”

“The full moon approaches.” Thane waves toward the ceiling like he can see the sky hidden beyond the building. His attention falls entirely on me. “But perhaps we can make a deal.”

“What kind of deal?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady despite Thane’s proximity.

“A trade.” Thane’s eyes flick to Costin as if taunting the vampire. “Your mortal for another favor.”

“No deals,” Costin answers for me. “Return him. Find someone else.”

“Or what?” Thane’s darkness seeps from his every pore. His golden eyes swim with power. I get the sense they can all hear the pounding of my heart. Every instinct tells me to run. “You’ll start a war over one human? That seems beneath you, old friend. Unless you want to step down and give your sister the throne. How is the beautiful Elizabeth?”

The room is tense. I feel the aggression bouncing all around us like a living thing. I notice several wolves inching closer, their bodies beginning to shift. Even the serving staff has stopped to watch.

“Perhaps the girl and I could discuss terms privately,” Thane suggests, his smile predatory.

“Absolutely not,” Costin states.

“No,” I say at the same time.

Peter appears beside me so suddenly I jump. He bows his head in respect. “Alpha, if I may?”

Thane waves his permission, appearing amused by the entire situation.

“The ritual requires specific timing,” Peter says carefully. “The moon will be full in three days. Perhaps that gives us time to...”

Peter stops talking and bows his head more.

Ritual? I take a deep breath, willing Peter to continue. “What ritual?”

“Leave it,” Costin orders.

“Nothing that concerns you,” Thane says, but his eyes tell a different story. “Unless...”

“Unless?” I prompt.

“Unless you’re willing to make an exchange.” He gestures toward a dark hallway. “Come. Let me show you something.”

Costin grips my arm. “We’re leaving.”

“Am I to understand you’re speaking for the Devine family now, vampire?” Thane’s voice carries enough threat that several wolves growl. He gestures his hand as if to keep them back. “Last I checked, you were merely... what’s the modern term? Dating?”

“She’s mine. I forbid it,” Costin says.

I pull away from him. “I’m not your chattel, Costin.”

“She’s not your chattel,” Thane repeats. I hate the mocking in his tone. Someone needs to give the Alpha a big slap across the face to wipe the smirk off.

It’s not going to be me. He’s likely to rip off my arm for just thinking it.

“Show me.” I want so badly to be brave. I owe it to Paul. But I feel like a fraud. I’m terrified. It’s all I can do to keep my legs from shaking.

“Tamara don’t—” Costin tries to stop me.

But I’m already following Thane out of the throne room. When I glance back, wolves surround Costin. I wonder if the vampire can take them in a fight. It looks like he wants to.

I shake my head slightly, trying to tell him to calm down and behave. I’m not sure the message gets across.

“Thane, I’m warning you…” Costin yells.

Thane doesn’t turn around. He lifts his fingers to give a short wave before disappearing through a narrow door behind the throne.

The passage leads to a circular room that feels ancient despite its industrial trappings. Through the glass ceiling, the moon watches us, nearly full and somehow appearing larger than it should be as if the glass magnifies it. My skin crawls as if the moonlight itself is alive, searching for something. Beneath it stands what looks like an altar made of twisted metal and stone, its surface stained with old, dark marks I don’t want to identify. Carved into the altar’s edge are the words “ Sanguis et Lūnāria .”

Thane touches the carving, translating words as he traces over them to make my blood run cold. “Blood and moonlight.”

I take a step back. “What does that mean?”

His claw scrapes against the stone as he walks to the other side. Thane presses his hands flat against the altar. He nods toward it before rocking his hips suggestively. I can see the outline of a thick arousal beneath his light pants. “Care to take it for a spin? One minute riding my wolf, and you’ll forget all about that cold popsicle.”

I shake my head.

“He can’t hear us in here. Unless you want him to, then I promise your vampire will hear every moan.” He winks as if that’s a real enticement. “Let’s have some fun and get the heart pumping in that dead blood sack, shall we?”

I can’t tell if he’s teasing.

“No.” I shake my head again. “No, thank you.”

His arms flex, and he pushes up on the altar, leaping over it to land before me. I gasp and stumble back in surprise.

“You’re not what I expected.” He lets his finger hover over the amulet but doesn’t touch it. “I’m curious. How far will your protection let me go?”

I don’t know how to answer that.

“Take it off,” he urges, eyes flashing and throat rumbling. “I hear your heart beating. I know what you want. Danger. Excitement. A hard fuck. I’ll give you an orgasm better than a near-death experience.”

I want to be repulsed. I really do. But there is something feral and raw about the way he wants to devour me. Costin’s earlier kiss already has my senses heightened.

“Why did you bring me here?” I insist.

“Straight to business, then?” Thane sighs.

“Blood and moonlight. What does it mean?”

“It’s the ingredients of an ancient magic ritual.”

“To do what exactly?”

“Transfer a curse.” He leans closer.

I try to stay strong, but I’m terrified.

“You see,” Thane’s breath is hot against my ear, his closeness making me long for Costin’s cool touch instead, “sometimes the old magic requires... great sacrifices.”

The amulet burns against my skin like a brand as Draakmar’s warning becomes clear. The dragon’s rage floods through me, but it’s not directed at the wolves. What am I missing?

He stares at the amulet as a claw extends from his fingertip. As if daring himself, he touches my arm lightly, dragging the claw against my skin. Right before he pulls back, he lets the tip puncture my forearm. I grimace and jerk away.

Thane lifts the claw and sniffs before licking the tip. “Mm. Interesting. So your dragon does let you play a little.”

“Why are you showing me all of this? Where’s Paul?” I inch away from him, wanting to run. I don’t want to be in this room.

“Your heart is so fast.” He closes his eyes. I ball a fist, wishing I had the nerve to hit him. My human strength would only amuse him.

“I’ll make you a deal. Come back in three nights as the sun sets. I’ll consider giving him to you.”

“For what price?” There’s always a price.

“For a choice,” he says.

He thinks he’s clever and enigmatic. I see it in his expression. But I have been playing word games with the supernatural my entire life. Draakmar’s half-whispers, Thane’s hyper-focus on my amulet and attempts at seducing me to take it off, his effort to have me return at the full moon…

The werewolves don’t just want Paul. They want me. And as the moon watches through the dome, I realize this trap was set long before I walked into it.

There’s something else Draakmar is trying to tell me. I try to listen to his strange language, but all I get is vague warnings about betrayal and choices made in darkness. Too bad the dragon’s riddles aren’t as easy to uncover as Thane’s narcissism.