The Wolves of Wall Street Volume 4: Volume 4

By Jay Ellison

When the moon rises, passions run wild... 

WOLF HUNTER

Aidan Anghelescu must face the demons of his past in order to solve a string of violent and mysterious murders in New York City. As a Wolf Hunter, he's been taught by his Romani people to never turn his back on the enemy. But when that enemy is the se

• Language: English
• Publisher: Courtesan Press
• Release date: Apr 29, 2024
• ISBN: 9798869345790

Book preview

WOLF HUNTER

1

Chapter One

T his is no way to get ahead, Danny Oliver quipped, staring down at the remains of the victim strewn across the filthy alley barely lit by a single goose neck sodium light near the end. The victim’s head lay in a shadowy corner while the entrails trailed across the asphalt, leading to a big blue Dumpster parked against the wall of the opposite building. Thin shafts of moonlight poured into the space between the narrow buildings, illuminating the bloody remains that had once been a man. Danny rubbed his chin and grinned while his partner, Aidan Anghelescu, shook his head and sighed.

Can the gallows humor, asshole. The guy’s girlfriend is right over there. Aidan stuck a thumb over his shoulder at the young, red-haired girl fighting two uniforms at the mouth of the alley. She was screaming and demanding they let her past the yellow crime scene tape while the two officers on duty hauled her back by the arms. Within seconds, a pair of paramedics appeared to sedate her so she could be transported to the nearest psychiatric hospital. She might be a material witness, might even know something about what went down here, but Aidan knew that right now, in her present state of mind, they were apt to get only listless babblings out of her.

Don’t call me an asshole, asshole, Danny said with a smirk. He wasn’t angry; it was just Danny’s way of coping with the carnage. He was a veteran of the streets at thirty-six. Tall, well built and possessed of sable skin and a dazzling smile that could turn even the most jaded guy’s head. He had been Aidan’s partner for six years, and Aidan’s fuck-buddy for two.

They weren’t exclusive, as relationships went. They both saw other people. But sometimes the violence of the streets got to you, and when it did—like tonight—only gallows humor and another cop really understood what you were going through. Only another cop could make you forget.

Of course, there was another reason why he and Danny would never work out in the end. Danny was human, and Aidan was not. Aidan knew from hard experience that his kind of people never really mingled well with the humans.

Their captain pushed through. He looked hastily put together and was sweating despite the cool October night. Aidan could tell he was dreading the PR nightmare this murder would generate. What we got, boys?

Male Caucasian, approximately mid-30s from the look of his…of the evidence, Danny discreetly declared, indicating the severed head in the corner. Girlfriend witnessed something before running off to get help—said it looked like an animal attack. He thumbed the Dumpster behind him. I think we’ll get a surprise when we look inside. He turned to Aidan, who had crouched down to sniff at the corpse.

Any other witnesses, Oliver?

A homeless guy. We’re taking him in even as we speak, but sobering the old dog up is going to take a while.

It better not take too long.

One of the guys from the crime lab stopped snapping pictures and said to the coroner, Is he smelling the corpse?

Aidan has an overdeveloped sense of smell, Danny supplied so Aidan wouldn’t need to repeat the story he’d told a hundred times to a hundred different rookies. It’s called Hyperosmia. There’s even a cop show about it.

I think I saw that one on Netflix! the lab guy declared.

Aidan grunted. It had been his cover story for years—something his people, the Romani, had instructed he use to hide who and what he was. He’d been skeptical at first when he’d started out. He’d been afraid people would question such an unusual ability, but he quickly learned that people will believe almost anything so long as it sounded decent and scientific-y.

Aidan sat back on the balls of his feet, his dark wet raincoat pooled around him like the wings of a bird of prey. Good cologne. Clive Christian. He was a rich man.

While he’d been sniffing the remains, he’d also been studying them with his third eye, the inner vision his lineage as a Wolf Hunter granted him, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the rich man in the alley had been a werewolf. His reddish aura positively screamed it—made, not born, and made recently. He still bore the paler, lingering aura of a human man.

He was a werewolf who had been torn apart by another werewolf—though Aidan needed no preternatural sense to determine that. Nothing else would have had the power to kill a werewolf except another werewolf. Aidan only wondered why. Werewolves were pretty insular beings and dedicated to their privacy. If they had a problem with another of their kind, they usually duked it out in private, not in the middle of the city where the humans could watch and gawk. This seemed a bit showy for werewolf kind.

Thankfully, no one but the girlfriend and a drunk had seen anything, and what they had seen was suspect, at best. A man attacked by an animal in an alley. Aidan’s kind could put any number of spins on that. He stood up.

The assistant ME, a new guy with the force named Quentin, looked a bit green around the gills. What kind of animal does this to a man?

A lot of different animals. Bears. Mountain lions, Aidan said. But from the bite patterns, I would wager a wolf.

A wolf in New York?

Aidan shrugged, knowing it was important to lay the groundwork before the body got back to the M.E.’s office. We have zoos and circuses in New York. If you want my opinion, it was a wolf that got loose. Poor thing was probably provoked.

Poor thing? Danny laughed.

Aidan turned to his partner. Wolves don’t attack humans unless they’re cornered or wounded.

Jesus, said the ME, watching as his interns load their gurney with the remains. I’ll have to get him back to the lab, run some tests.

You do that, Aidan said. He knew the tests would all come back confirming what Aidan had already explained. From there, the police would make the next logical jump to an escaped animal—one they would never find, consequently.

Anything else your Spidey Sense telling you? Danny said.

Aidan shook his head. That’s about it…asshole.

Danny grinned.

After the coroner confirmed the wolf hair and saliva on the victim, they’d sweep all the zoos and circuses and anyone connected to exotic animal handling. Maybe they would hang the crime on someone, but it was doubtful. The cops in this city were pretty good at attaching logical explanations to illogical acts of violence. It would then be Aidan’s duty as a Wolf Hunter to hunt down and eliminate the real enemy—probably an Omega passing through, or maybe even a Berserker, though he hadn’t encountered one of those in years.

Danny was eyeing the Dumpster. After you.

Aidan made an exaggerated bow. No, after you.

They looked at each other, then made a quick game of Paper, Rock, Scissors.

Guys, come on! said the captain. He was getting nervous with the press starting to pull up outside in the alley.

Danny lost. Shit. He pulled on a pair of latex gloves, pulled his jacket collar up over his nose, and went to slide open the lid of the Dumpster. Shit, he said again when he looked inside.

Aidan went to investigate. The remains were scattered among yesterday’s garbage, except…

Looks like there’re some parts missing.

Did the big, bad wolf, or whatever did this, eat him? Christ. I’m never going to get to sleep tonight. Danny looked up at Aidan with a pained expression on his face.

Aidan shook his head. I stopped sleeping a long time ago.

2

Chapter Two

Aidan Anghelescu was eleven years old when he shifted the first time. He’d known it would happen. His grandpa had given him ample warning in advance. But Andrei Anghelescu, who was both a werewolf and an elder among their people, had also told him the shift was usually triggered by hormones and he likely didn’t have to worry about shifting until at least his thirteenth birthday. Andrei himself had been fourteen before it happened, and Aidan’s dad had been a little older than that. But for Aidan, the shift came early.

Aidan had been living with his grandfather for seven months in the old man’s broken-down trailer in upstate New York, Aidan’s parents having been killed months earlier by a Berserker they’d both been tracking. His parents had been born Wolf Hunters—werewolves who policed others of their kind and eradicated threats in the form of dangerous Omegas, Berserkers, or normal werewolves who had been tainted by greed, ego, or demonic forces. His mother had killed the Berserker as her last act of bravery before succumbing to her wounds, leaving Aidan to be raised by Andrei.

Though Aidan had not been at the scene of his parents’ massacre, his imagination was such that he’d dreamed many times that he was. He could see the shabby, flea-bitten Berserker swinging its massive claws at his parents’ heads, and he could imagine his father wielding the Wolf Hunter staff, trying to cleave the creature’s head from its shoulders. He imagined the gore-soaked ground and the cold, uncaring moon floating high above the treetops. Then—one mistake by his father—and the creature struck, ripping him to such small pieces that even a Hunter, with its preternatural ability to heal from almost any wound, could not recover from his injuries. He imagined his mother losing all her sense, shifting and jumping upon the devilish creature, slashing and biting and…

He woke with a scream that night, finding his body as it shimmered into its werewolf form. His muscles bulked up and his pajamas shredded as tufts of dark fur peeked out. There was no real pain, but the terror was absolute. When Andrei finally stumbled into his grandson’s bedroom, he found Aidan huddled in a corner in his werewolf pup form.

Aidan could easily see Andrei’s werewolf shadow as the old man approached him. It presented itself as a shimmering red halo around his human form, bestial and wild. That was how both of them learned that Aidan, like his parents, was a Hunter.

Wolf Hunters led very different lives than other werewolves. They were solitary creatures who were expected to train young and lead strict, isolated lives that were dedicated to their mission. They almost never became part of a pack and they seldom found permanent mates. They were stronger and faster than most werewolves. As a result, their own kind didn’t often trust or welcome them.

Aidan’s special abilities had practically molded him for life as a cop. He was used to the violence, the long hours, the thankless work. The small horrors he witnessed almost every day. And even when his day was done at the Seventh Precinct in Brooklyn Heights—historically one of the toughest in the city—he was still sometimes called upon by his Romani people to take care of rogues among the werewolf population. The work was fulfilling, if lonely. He was seldom praised, but praise did not factor into a Hunter’s life. As far as he was aware, he was the only Wolf Hunter in the city of New York.

As Aidan and is partners drove back to the station to interview the homeless guy, Danny said, Indian or Chinese?

What? said Aidan, lost in his own thoughts as he steered the car through the evening traffic.

You want Indian or Chinese tonight? And don’t say Italian. I’ve had enough pizza this week.

Indian.

Good choice. Think we’re going to get anything out of the drunk?

Doubtful, but until we talk to the girlfriend… Aidan shrugged, leaving it at that.

Back at the station, interviewing the drunk pretty much got them nowhere, as Aidan had predicted. The homeless man had been huddling in the alley across the street with a full bottle of Jack Daniels when everything went down. He’d been three sheets to the wind.

I ain’t seen nothin’, the old-timer kept babbling as they hovered over him in the cinder-block interrogation room. He kept pulling at his coat, and sometimes he would talk into it. Just a dog. A big fuckin’ dog.

Danny leaned against the interrogation table. You saw a dog? What kind of dog?

The drunk waved his grimy hands around. Big black dog. It stood up and talked.

Stood up and talked?

Like a bear. Just before it killed that guy, it stood up like a bear and talked! Like a big dancing, talking bear! The drunk started laughing hysterically until a phlegmy cough forced him to stop. Then he started whispering into his coat as if he was talking to an invisible friend.

Danny looked at Aidan.

Aidan shook his head. Let’s dry him out. Maybe he’ll remember something we can actually use in the morning.

I ain’t that drunk! I know what I saw! A talking bear! A fucking talking bear! the old-timer singsonged as one of the cops on duty escorted—more like dragged—him to the drunk tank.

With the girlfriend still under sedation, that left Aidan and Danny with no leads at the moment, and the coroner still hadn’t delivered his report. Let’s knock off, pick this up in the morning, Danny said, grabbing up his jacket.

Aidan swung his long raincoat on. Chinese, he said.

What?

I’ve changed my mind. Let’s get Chinese.

Asshole.

Yeah, yeah.

3

Chapter Three

Danny drove them downtown to the Golden Dragon, their favorite Chinese restaurant. While Danny was inside getting take-out, Aidan got out of the car, crossed the street, and slipped down an alley. Just ahead, he could see the alley veering off where the victim had met his demise.

Aidan stopped, sniffed the air, and went over the whole alley, back to front, but he couldn’t pick up on any particular scent. The windy October weather, a rain earlier in the evening, and all the officers who had passed through this way had washed everything away. The few scents remaining were too confusing to separate.

As he was heading back to the car, Danny suddenly appeared at the mouth of the alley. I should have known you were up to something, he said with a knowing smirk.

Aidan shrugged. I wanted to make sure I didn’t overlook anything.

"Let it go, Aidan. We’ll start fresh tomorrow."

Just give me one more mi—

Before he even finished his sentence, Danny had given him a hard shove against the brownstone at his back. He barely felt the impact as Danny fell upon him, curled an arm around the back of his neck, and kissed him open-mouthed. Aidan groaned into the kiss as they made out there, at the mouth of a dead-end alley where some werewolf had met his end.

Aidan nipped at Danny’s mouth and a low growl rumbled up his throat. Danny grabbed the front of Aidan’s jeans and squeezed his cock through the worn denim material. The sublime pressure drove a spike of pleasure up Aidan’s back, and with the smell of the remains still fresh in the alley, he felt his wolf rise up, fast and hard. He bit Danny’s mouth.

Danny grunted and withdrew, his eyes shimmering with surprise.

Sorry, Aidan told him. You took me by surprise.

Obviously…asshole.

Aidan grinned and licked Danny’s lips, the drop of blood there. He grabbed Danny’s arm and steered him toward the car. Let’s get home and finish this.

4

Chapter Four

The moment they were inside Aidan’s studio apartment in the Lower East Side, Aidan threw the door closed, seized Danny’s cheeks in his big hands, and kissed him. You taste amazing, he said, and Danny laughed his gruff, nervous laugh.

Thanks, I guess, Danny answered while Aidan slid a hand down his hip and detoured to slip it inside Danny’s trousers. Danny grunted when Aidan stroked his cock to life. Now, don’t just tease me, babe.

Aidan gave him a crooked smile. He had more in mind than teasing. He squeezed Danny’s cock, giving it a few firm jerks. Danny grunted and his lips parted as he leaned back against the wall. Aidan kissed him, slipping his tongue into Danny’s mouth and edging it around his teeth before playfully using it to subdue his lover’s. He continued to work Danny’s dick until he could feel it throbbing in his hand. His own was as hard as bone in his jeans as he plundered Danny’s mouth before edging down the curve of his neck, biting him gently along the way.

Jesus, Aidan. Take it easy, Danny said, and Aidan realized his teeth were sharper than he would have liked in his mouth and he was pricking Danny’s skin despite trying to go easy. He could feel his wolf rising, its thick, shaggy coat just brushing the underside of his flesh. It wanted out. It wanted to mate with Danny.

Not for the first time, as the two of them grunted and licked each other, gripped each other’s asses and rubbed their hard-ons together, Aidan thought about telling Danny the truth, that werewolves were real, that a whole culture of them existed in this city—as well as in others. He was one of them. No, he was more than that. He was a Wolf Hunter. But how would Danny react? Fear, more than likely. Maybe even revulsion. Aidan couldn’t risk it.

He pushed Danny down onto the floor and climbed atop him, kissing his neck, ripping away his shirt so he could lick and kiss around his nipples, then farther down. Within seconds, they were both naked and Aidan was nuzzling into the dark thatch of hair between Danny’s legs, hungrily licking his balls and asshole while Danny moaned and writhed beneath him. He swallowed Danny down to the root, then eased his mouth off, leaving a thick webbing of saliva behind.

Danny raked his fingers through Aidan’s dark, slightly curling hair as he leaned back and his eyes fluttered. Oh, God…oh, God, Aidan, he kept saying like a mantra.

Aidan slicked his cock up and down, licking around the base and moving to the crown to lick it like a lollipop before sucking it far down his throat. Danny struggled up so he could watch Aidan suck his dick down his throat over and over. Aidan prided himself on being able to deep-throat even the thickest, fattest cock. Something to do with the wide, canine design of his throat, he reckoned.

Aidan…shit, Aidan…how…? Danny groaned before giving into a long groan of pleasure.

Aidan could hear his lover’s heart knocking loudly against the wall of his chest, smell his sweat and arousal. It made him greedy. He sucked Danny all the way down and applied just a hint of teeth.

With a cry, Danny came in his mouth. Aidan swallowed down his hot, fragrant come before flipping Danny onto all fours and bowing his head to rasp his rough tongue over Danny’s twitching hole, drooling all over him. By then, his lust was insatiable and he could barely control himself. His cock throbbed with a desire almost too painful to endure and his teeth were long in his mouth. He spat into his hand and grabbed Danny’s softened dick, sliding his hand up and down so it hardened in his grip once more. He kneed Danny’s legs farther apart and mounted him from behind, forcing his lover to take the brunt of his weight. Danny grunted but managed it. Aidan eased his way inside his lover, then gave Danny a harsh thrust, pinning him to the floor as he started to fuck his lover’s brains out.

Sweet Christ, Danny gasped, his whole body shuddering while Aidan pistoned in and out of him, going hard on him. Fuck me, Aidan. Fuck me hard…give it to me!

Aidan’s eyes flashed to the blood red of a harvest moon—the red of the Wolf Hunter—and he started drooling over Danny’s shoulder. Thankfully, Danny couldn’t see. Soon, they gasped and rocked against one another, finding a rhythm that worked for them both. Aidan’s hips bucked and sweat poured off his face. His wolf was already near its end, and it only took a few deep thrusts before he came. Aidan jerked Danny’s dick and the two of them exploded in climax, roaring.

They panted and gasped as they worked on getting their breathing under control, and Aidan tumbled to the floor, wrapping Danny in his arms but keeping his eyes closed until he felt his sated wolf pull back inside the depths of his body and brain.

Oh, god…it’s always so fucking intense with you, Aidan, Danny said, kissing him.

Aidan made a rumbling sound in response.

Are you growling? Danny laughed.

Aidan blinked his eyes open. I’m just feeling good, he said.

Danny laughed at that. Well, I’m hungry. He got up and grabbed his clothes. Let’s eat!

Later, while Danny was gently snoring on his side of the bed, Aidan got up and walked naked to the window of the loft that looked out over the East River. A half-moon hung like a silvery scythe in the heavens. It cast a pale, lurid light down on the traffic crossing the Brooklyn Bridge. The food and sex had done little to sate the wolf in him. He felt it writhing inside of him, fighting for its freedom. Clenching his hand, he felt his fingernails lengthen into long, hard, black claws that clicked together like ceramic hooks.

His phone started vibrating on his nightstand. He pulled his claws back inside, picked up the phone, and immediately recognized the number. He walked into the kitchenette as he answered. Hi, Poppy, he said.

I suppose you already know about the Berserker? his grandfather said in Vlax Romani. As an Elder on the Council, it was his job to brief Aidan on new cases.

I saw the body, yes. Why do they think it’s a Berserker? Aidan said, answering in kind in his people’s language. He shivered a little in the coolness of the room.

The kid who was killed. He belonged to Faelan.

He was Faelan’s? Aidan said in surprise. Faelan was an old wolf of Black Irish descent who had been a fixture in this city since at least the era of Prohibition—possibly longer. His enclave was small and worked out of Staten Island. Much like Roman La Feuvre, whose pack worked in Midtown, Faelan was an old wolf, an alpha master and Pedigree. Pedigrees made incredibly strong wolves. Naturally, Aidan’s thoughts jumped to the dead werewolf in the alley. Only the one who had made him—or a Berserker possessed of a killing rage—would have been able to kill him the way he had.

Andrei gave Aidan all the relevant information he needed on the victim, and on Faelan. Much of the information on Faelan was common knowledge.

The werewolf had immigrated to the States during the Great Famine, along with thousands of other hungry Irish workers. Unlike them, however, he didn’t stay destitute for long. He worked in a gin mill until Prohibition, when the police finally shut it down. Rumor had it he turned to rum-running and speakeasies for a while, but when Prohibition ended, the changeover again killed his business. Not long after, he made a killing stock chopping on Wall Street and then started his own investment firm.

LW (the letters, Aidan had learned long ago meant Little Wolf, a literal translation of Faelan) Financial had been born, an investment group in the uptown area. New York was just big enough that he, and his Midtown rival, Roman La Feuvre, had managed to stay out of each other’s way thus far. Like Roman, Faelan was old by centuries, at least, but unlike Roman, he was also progressive, building his pack up out of his handpicked collection of young male and female employees instead of choosing them based on personal male aesthetics, the way Roman did.

The werewolf victim was Adam Keir, a young investor and former employer of LW Financial who had been fired for embezzlement a week earlier.

I can’t help but wonder if Faelan wasn’t doing a bit of damage control, Aidan said.

The Council considered that, pup, but that would be too flashy for Faelan. He likes to keep things strictly low-key. It’s how he’s stayed under the radar all these years. Came in off the boat from Ireland buried in human immigrants—and he’s still playing the racket. If he had planned on ripping his young protege apart, I doubt you would have ever found the pieces.

Aidan grunted at that. Of course, he would be getting much of this information on Adam Keir first thing in the morning when the M.E. dropped off his report, but the Council was connected in a multitude of ways, and this was obviously a priority investigation. "I’ll still need to question Faelan, see who the victim was