Alpha Crave: Call of the Pack

By Sophie Black

The Call of the Pack 

Toriana’s entire world has changed in an instant. Once the daughter of the most powerful werewolf in the land, and together with her dream man, she is now on her own. Lost and betrayed, Toriana finds herself cast into the core of a horrible situation. 

She must plan her fight and choose her allies carefully. She relies on the only resources she has: her razor-sharp wit and iron will. Manipulation is her new weapon. 

When unforeseen circumstances compromise her efforts, she calls upon a few special allies to help change the werewolf pack’s existence as they all know it. 

Will she succeed?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Port Vendre Press
• Release date: Jan 18, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524232375

Book preview

Toriana’s entire world has changed. Once the daughter of the most powerful werewolf in the land, and together with her dream man, she is now on her own. Lost and betrayed, Toriana finds herself cast into the core of a horrible situation.

She must plan her fight and choose her allies carefully. She relies on the only resources she has; her razor sharp wit and iron will. Manipulation is her weapon.

When unforeseen circumstances compromise her efforts, she calls upon a few special allies to help change the werewolf pack’s existence as they all know it.

Will she succeed?

––––––––

Day broke only slightly in the short hours of late fall. After an unbearably dry summer, cooler air seemed to give crispness to the cedar trees along the highway. The low rumble of a pickup as it shifted gears uphill rang through the fog.

‘Big city hunters,’ Toriana thought.

It was, after all, that time of year. They would descend upon the county, one shiny four wheel drive at a time, and do what they could to blend in to a life they both envied and found laughable. There was novelty in test-driving the lifestyles of the locals, only to abandon it for their concrete jungle on Sunday evening. They, their suspiciously clean ATVs in tow, would exit via the main highway, leaving their kills behind for processing. Toriana only hoped she would not have a parking lot full of customers at the shop when she arrived. She was doing all she could to keep up with fall's onslaught. She winced a bit as she rounded the sweeping curve just before her turnoff. She would soon have the taxidermy shop and wild game processing house where she spent her days in view.

Good, I beat them in. she sighed to herself as she turned into the parking lot.

Wittlich Taxidermy and Processing had been a staple in the community for well over 50 years. Toriana's great grandfather, a second-generation German immigrant, opened the business in hopes of marrying his lifestyle to his work. The concept was born of necessity and had managed to serve its purpose while simultaneously serving the community's needs. It was a win-win and had enabled Toriana's family to not only survive but also thrive in a world that could turn on them in an instant.

Toriana's great grandfather was well aware of the tragedy that could befall his family at any moment. His father and grandfather fled Germany to avoid just such persecution. They vividly remembered seeing their kind sought out for extermination. Visions of flesh being torn from screaming bodies plagued them and the smell of their burning brethren was never far from their waking thoughts or sleeping nightmares.

The werewolf was the hunted in those days and many fled the German countryside. Upon immigrating to the United States, the Menken family became Wittlich and began a life of relative anonymity. Blair County’s sprawling hillsides and abundant wildlife made it a haven for werewolves. Soon, pack after pack found it's way into the area. After the Wittlich pack came Fahrenholz, then Krams-Klein, then Bedburg. What looked to be a thriving community of German immigrants was, in fact, a network of werewolf alliances and power structures.

The hunting areas were divided and deals were struck among pack leaders to ensure fairness among the packs. It was a paper utopia. There was no persecution and no civil war but not for lack of disagreement. The elders, in those days, kept their packs in check by reminding them of the old ways in the motherland. They feared that battles among the packs would expose them to the surrounding populous and, once again, lead to mass torture and murder of their kind. With charred bodies now a distant memory, alliances were strained and modern diplomatic manipulation became the law of the land. The shop had managed to keep the Wittlich pack at the top of the heap.

Toriana's senses peaked as she turned the key in the lock. There was something stirring inside. Perhaps it was her nature or perhaps it was the countless hours she spent on her grandfather's knee that fueled her hyper vigilance. Nonetheless, she steeled herself for battle as the door slid open with an unwelcome whine.

Toriana was a lithe woman of twenty-eight. Agile and athletic, she possessed a tenacity that belied her small stature. Even in human form, years of backbreaking work, coupled with a distaste for dependence, had made her a formidable opponent. Now, as she began to shift form in preparation for what might lay in wait behind the door, her eyes glazed and pupils collapsed to detect the faintest movement in the darkness. A ripple of muscle coursed down her back and through her shoulders and arms and her now elongated teeth pressed into her lower lip.

She smelled blood beyond the crack in the door and threw it open, nearly taking it from it's hinges. There, directly in front of her, the beast stood. Pieces of the animal in its grasp were strewn about the room. The concrete floor was awash with blood. Toriana stood and, in her rage shouted, What the hell, Evan?

Hearing its name, the beast began to shrink. Long limbs shortened and coarse fur seemed to retreat into flesh that became more supple as it drew together. The claws that had just a breath ago been tearing at flesh were reduced to surprisingly well-groomed nails. Evan was now precariously crouched on the floor, naked, and almost looking embarrassed for his position. Toriana knew that questioning him at this point would be futile. Evan would be too disoriented from his kill and she would be too angry to make much more sense than he would.

Toriana closed her eyes and breathed deeply. This was a method she learned over the years so that she could prevent a full shift. She was thankful for the progress her kind had made. Toriana was a different breed of werewolf than those of ancient horror stories. The elders called them Mischling or the half blood. The occasional mating of werewolf and human throughout her bloodline had given Mischlings more control over their blood lust and the ability to shift at will.

However, there was a catch. Immortality was a characteristic no longer possessed by what she called domesticated werewolves. As a perk of this lost power, Toriana and generations before her had been given the opportunity to grow and age just like the humans around them. It made them less obvious. She looked at it as a survival mechanism. Toriana found that control, however, was all too often a question of free will.

As evidence to this phenomenon, there stood Evan. Typically a cheerful and bright young man, Evan's carnal pull ran deep. He, like many of the young men in the Blair county hoard, was known to seek out the thrill of the kill. Toriana looked down upon this behavior. She saw these young men in the same light as binge drinking frat boys who terrorized the college town a few miles up the highway. Seeing Evan in his blood drunk stupor was all the more troubling. Although, under cleaner circumstances, she would not have argued with the image currently in her sight.

Evan shook off the muscle stiffness of his shift and rose to his full stature. He was a solidly formed man whose medium height extenuated his muscular frame. As he stretched his arms backward, the two solid blocks of muscle covering his chest separated to reveal a guideline toward the v-shaped indentations in his lower abs. Toriana's eyes followed the flow of his skin downward, catching herself and stopping short of the feature presentation. Her eyes shot up to meet his.

She caught up with her breath and warned, You will clean this madness up, now! She passed him, as closely as she could without giving herself away. Quite predictably, he reached out and took her arm into his grip.

He pulled her ear to his face and whispered, Yes I will. I didn't know that you would be here so early so you don't have to play hard ass with me. I know better, remember?

She pulled away and went to back of the shop. Losing strength in her legs, she leaned against the wall to steady herself. She did remember. She remembered the summer before when he made her powerless for the first time. She remembered moaning in his arms with reckless abandon and giving in to him entirely. Even now, standing alone, she felt a spreading heat. Her hands involuntarily began