Wolfsbane: An Infinite Arcana Novella (Werewolves of Boston Book 1) Read online

  Wolfsbane

  Werewolves of Boston Book One

  SJ Himes

  Copyright © 2020 by SJ Himes

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Editing by Alyson Roy of Royal Editing Services

  Cover By Morningstar Ashley of Designs by Morningstar

  Dedication

  Love is transformative

  For everyone who needs a change

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Afterword

  Newsletter Signup

  Also by SJ Himes

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  “Did you see the pack alert?” his mother called across the house, and Rael Morrow sighed. Of course, she heard him. “Don’t sass me! Did you check your phone?”

  Scylla Morrow was a werewolf, and as her son he had many of the same gifts. They didn’t need to text each other room to room like humans, they just needed to talk. The walls of their tiny house in Southie were paper thin. Though, Scylla yelled regardless. She liked to be emphatic.

  Rael sat up in bed, the covers falling away, and dug about for his phone. It vibrated, and he found it under his pillow. Opening it, he stared in dismay at the pack alert.

  All pack members are to attend the moonrise meeting on Friday. NO exceptions. –ALPHA MERCER

  He groaned, falling back onto the bed, and stared at the ceiling. His hopes of avoiding the pack for another moon had evaporated. If he didn’t show, Alpha Mercer would send his betas to drag him by his ear to the meeting, kicking and screaming. He was eighteen and had yet to turn. Hardly surprising, considering his father had been human. He had the enhanced senses, the speed, healing, strength and resiliency, but he couldn’t transform. Full-blooded children of the moon transformed either at puberty or, if they were alphas, even younger. Most alphas transformed for the first time by the age of ten.

  Rael went through puberty, the eyes of the pack on him, and... nothing. Years passed, and while he smelled like a werewolf, and in all ways was a werewolf in human form, he never found another form. Not the full transformation from man to wolf, or even the monstrous, bipedal lycanthrope form reserved for the strongest of their kind.

  He couldn’t even grow out his fur. The closest he got was being able to grow out his fangs and claws, though it took effort. His eyes glowed blue under the sway of the moon, and when his emotions ran high. There were a few perks, though, that full-blooded werewolves didn’t have, but none of it really made up for the fact that his position in the pack was endangered by his parentage.

  “Rael!”

  “Yes, I got the message!” He shouted back, though his mom could hear him just fine, even on the opposite side of the house.

  “Don’t yell!” she shouted back at him, and he snorted, tossing his phone on the nightstand. Saying he got the message wasn’t enough, as he heard her coming his way.

  The bedroom door opened, and his mother leaned on the doorjamb. She sighed, rubbing her face with one hand. Two hundred years old, and she didn’t look a day over forty. She had long, brown hair that hung down past her shoulders, bright blue eyes, and a hint of fangs in her smile. Tiny lines around her eyes were the only hint of age she carried. Most wolves who could bear pups had them younger, but Scylla Morrow never did anything the expected way. Hence her half-human son and the fact that they lived inside city limits instead of just working there. Most wolf packs worked in Boston and lived outside the city limits, leaving the denser, more populated areas to the mundane humans and the practitioners. But his mom had been a nurse at Boston General for longer than he’d been alive, so living in the city made sense.

  “Just because Alpha Mercer is ordering everyone to attend doesn’t mean he’s going to single you out,” Scylla said, though Rael heard the doubt.

  “First full moon after my eighteenth birthday, Mom.” Rael sat up and swung his feet to the floor, looking down at his bare toes. If he focused really hard and had the benefit of the full moon, he might be able to grow some claws. As it was, they were just regular human toes. His mom said nothing, though they were both thinking the same thing. “I’m not a kid anymore. Alpha Mercer doesn’t want anyone in the pack who isn’t a wolf.”

  Scylla growled and came to sit beside him on the bed, arm around his shoulders. “Alpha Mercer is an asshole and a bigot. Over half his pack has human bloodlines, including his oh-so-perfect mate, Abigail. You’re young and strong and healthy, and smart as hell. You’re going to college next semester, pre-med! You’re going to be a doctor. Anyone who doesn’t want you just because you can’t shift is losing out on so much.”

  He smiled, but it had a bitter twinge to it. “Everyone else with human blood can transform, Mom. I’m the only one who can’t.”

  “And there is nothing wrong with that,” Scylla said, echoing the same sentiments she’d been expressing his entire life. Sometimes he believed her, but their pack didn’t hold the same views. He wasn’t a werewolf unless he could transform. Otherwise, he was just a mixed-blood hybrid who was too human to be pack.

  The moonrise meeting was exactly what it sounded like—the hour the moon rose in the sky over Boston, the pack meeting would begin. Which was a pain, as moonrise was never at the same time each night throughout the year, so sometimes the meeting was held during the afternoon, or late at night, the only time they didn’t meet was when it interfered with Alpha’s sleep. Tradition was important, right up until it inconvenienced their alpha—never mind that not having a set time was a hassle to his entire pack.

  Rael walked with his mother down the street outside the alpha’s house, the McMansion an anachronistic blip on an otherwise historic street. According to Scylla, the old mansion that once stood there for a couple hundred years was torn down and replaced by the current eyesore before he was born. That always made him sad and angry, all that history destroyed because it wasn’t shiny and new. As it was, the house was three stories tall, clunky, and took up nearly the entire lot; the only thing making it tolerable was the tiny yard in the back that abutted a greenway along a river and part of a nearby park.

  Pack members greeted each other as they all headed for the house, some people were dropped off, others double-parked on the residential street, not caring how their vehicles blocked traffic for everyone else who lived on the block. Alpha Mercer was a selfish dick—most of the top tier wolves in the pack emulated his behavior. Only a couple were decent people.

  He caught sight of one such pack member, standing tall amongst those around him, broad shoulders and rich mahogany hair making him easy to spot in the growing mass of werewolves all heading for the front door.

  “Jameson looks nice tonight,” Scylla said with a sharp smile. He cast her a glare then went back to staring, tucking his hands into his pockets so no one saw how his fingers clenched. Every single atom of his body wanted to reach out and touch, but Jameson wasn’t his. Hell, Jameson was single and had been for longer than Rael could remember.

  “He looks nice all the time, Mom, and you know it.” He tried to sound annoyed, but
he knew he failed when his mother snorted out a short laugh.

  “Honey, just talk to him. Jameson is a nice guy, and a strong alpha.” Scylla lowered her voice as they reached the house. “He looks at you just as much as you look at him.”

  He doubted that. Jameson could do better than a hybrid who couldn’t transform. He was just a really nice guy and made an effort to talk to Rael when no one else did. They just weren’t friends. Jameson was six years older than Rael, and they hadn’t grown up together. Never mind that Jameson always made time for him during pack runs and meetings, and treated him with respect, and never avoided him, and every time Rael found himself in trouble with a less-than-open-minded packmate, Jameson interceded and protected him. Each time Jameson treated Rael like he mattered, Rael fell that much more in love with him.

  It hurt to talk to Jameson sometimes, and it got worse a year ago after his seventeenth birthday, when his childhood crush morphed into a painful, unrequited love. Rael did his best to hide how he felt, but when surrounded by people with powerful, heightened senses, it was almost impossible. His only option was to limit his interactions with the members of the pack who taunted him for his feelings, and with Jameson himself.

  Jameson Mercer was Alpha Bertram Mercer’s nephew, the son of Bertram’s deceased younger brother. Jameson lost his father when he was five, and while Rael never knew his own father, he felt a kinship to Jameson through the shared loss of their fathers. It was a connection that was tenuous at best, but Jameson never made fun of Rael for not having a father, or for his late father being human.

  Since Jameson was Bertram Mercer’s closest relative who was an alpha, Jameson was also the presumptive heir of the Southside Pack. Rael had spent a few shallow moments in the last few years wishing Bertram Mercer would get struck by lightning or piss off a necromancer and Jameson would take over, magically making Rael’s life easier.

  Alpha Mercer had plenty of offspring, but none were alphas. His new mate, Abigail, was pregnant with their first kid together, and it was too soon to know if the unborn pup would be an alpha or not. Until the pup’s caste was determined, Jameson remained the heir. More progressive packs had betas or gammas as alphas, setting aside the old traditions that handicapped packs from putting the best person in charge regardless of caste, but that wouldn’t fly in the Southside Pack.

  Luckily for them, Jameson had every leadership quality a pack could want, on top of an MBA and a master’s in Communications from UMass. Jameson graduated high school at sixteen and breezed through undergrad and graduate school in half the time it would usually take. At twenty-four, he ran his own business and had half the pack on his payroll already, along with numerous humans and practitioners. Unlike Alpha Mercer, Jameson embraced working with different supernatural species and mundane humans. His employees in the pack spoke of how fair and open-minded Jameson was, and that he never spoke down to anyone or took his people for granted. Alpha Mercer inherited money and the position from his father, and he augmented his income with tithes from pack members rather than work. Mercer made no effort to curb his inclinations to insult and demean those he saw as lesser, and no one was safe, not even his own pack members.

  Now that Rael was eighteen, he’d have to start paying tithes to the alpha. Unless Alpha Mercer kicked him out before then. He had a part-time job at a tattoo parlor, but it didn’t pay a ton. Paying tithes to Mercer would sting for certain, making him more than grateful that he’d earned a scholarship to his college of choice.

  They entered the house in the rear of the group, keeping their jackets as they didn’t plan on staying after the meeting was over. His mom had an early morning shift and Rael didn’t feel like getting harassed by the assholes in the pack. The house echoed with dozens of voices, and he hated the noise. Everyone was loud and boisterous, some pack members roughhousing as they greeted each other. Rael and Scylla dodged a tumble of wolves and headed for the rear of the house. The meeting room was huge and just off the kitchen, leaving little room for a backyard.

  Scylla led the way to the corner closest to the doorway, and they leaned on the wall out of the way. Rael hated drawing attention to himself, and Scylla had no desire to draw the alpha’s regard either. Before Mercer mated with Abigail Lauder, he’d made overtures to Scylla, who politely rebuffed them. Rael was grateful Mercer didn’t make a bigger deal out of it, though his new mate Abigail hated Scylla for that very reason. His mom was educated, a highly talented and skilled nurse, had a steady job and numerous degrees, and had caught the eye of more than one pack member over the years.

  Abigail Mercer sat near her husband’s throne at the other end of the room, eight months pregnant and supremely smug about it. Twenty-three years old, blonde, and petite, with light, golden skin free of blemishes, curves, and a girl-next-door kind of appeal, Abigail was gorgeous and knew it, and made sure people recognized her new status. Mated for nearly a year, Rael figured by now she would be more secure in her position, but she still acted like Scylla would swoop in and steal her mate, and that Jameson would refuse to relinquish his position as heir to her pup. It didn’t help that every pup Bertram Mercer ever sired was a beta or a gamma, and none of them stuck around once they reached adulthood. Abigail was absolutely certain her unborn pup would be an alpha, and while she played nice with Jameson in public, everyone knew she loathed the other alpha. It didn’t help that Jameson and Abigail were peers or had been before Jameson left high school after his sophomore year and went to college. There was a year between them, and Abigail acted like they were still in high school.

  Jameson entered the meeting room from the kitchen, and Rael failed at not staring. Jameson was a big guy—thick with muscle, his biceps were bigger than most people’s thighs. Jameson wasn’t overly muscled though—his muscles fit his large, six-foot-four frame. He was perfectly proportionate, and Rael spent every second he could cataloging Jameson’s fine qualities. And he had many. His wolf form was gigantic, easily the biggest in the pack, and he could assume the bipedal werewolf form that only the strongest wolves could achieve. That form was the one that characterized werewolves the world over in movies, television, and books—the ‘monster’ form popular in scary stories.

  Dressed in a fine, tight forest green cashmere sweater and dark blue jeans with black leather boots, Jameson was attractive as hell, and he acted like he didn’t notice the covetous glances sent his way. Hell, maybe he really didn’t notice them. As far as Rael knew, Jameson didn’t fuck around with pack members, and he did know for certain that Jameson was unmated. Even Abigail had tried to get Jameson’s attention before eventually giving up and settling for Bertram. Most of the single wolves had tried attracting Jameson and been ignored or gently rebuffed. Rael hadn’t tried, too scared of the almost certain rejection and the hazing from pack members for his audacity.

  Jameson was out of his reach.

  Dark brown eyes laced with gold met his, and Rael blushed hot when Jameson caught him staring. A wicked grin lifted soft, kissable lips and made Jameson instantly go from attractive to stunning. Rael looked away but couldn’t resist another peek. Jameson winked at him, and he forgot how to breathe.

  Alpha Mercer entered the room, and everyone talking and fucking around settled down, the room quiet enough to hear a mouse sneeze. Rael tensed, and his mother inched closer so their shoulders touched. He calmed as much as he could, though his heart skipped a beat when Alpha Mercer looked around the room and his cold eyes landed for a second on the pair of them. Rael wanted to glare back, but he dropped his eyes after a second, hiding the fear and antagonism he felt.

  He sensed when Mercer moved on, and then his booming filled the room. “Welcome, Southside Pack, to the month’s first moonrise meeting. My mate and I welcome you to our home.” Rael lifted his eyes to see Mercer gesturing to Abigail, who simpered and batted her eyelashes, then glared at those she disliked once Mercer looked away. Rael and Abigail were five years apart, but he had dim memories of her horrible behavior at pack meetings and other even
ts when they were younger, and from what Scylla had mentioned more than a few times, her parents did nothing to curb their daughter’s entitled attitude.

  Mercer continued. “This month we had several young pack members turn eighteen, and I want to congratulate them on becoming full members of the pack, with all the responsibilities and benefits due to an adult wolf. Next weekend we’ll celebrate with a pack run at Wompatuck State Park. Pack an overnight bag, I’ve arranged for accommodations at the cabins in the southern campgrounds. If you can’t get free from work or school for the run, you’ll need to let me know by Wednesday.”

  Mercer paused, and Rael went cold when the alpha deliberately made eye contact, smirking, before he addressed the pack again. “It’s time for our newly matured wolves to make their oaths of loyalty to the pack and their alpha.”

  Alpha Mercer called out the name of one of Rael’s peers, the young wolf excited and all but bouncing as he scampered to the front of the room and knelt before their alpha, his proud relatives beaming and cheering.

  One by one, Alpha Mercer took oaths from the handful of wolves who had turned eighteen since their last pack meeting, each one getting applause and cheers from their family members and pack mates.

  Scylla reached down and took Rael’s hand in a tight grip when Alpha Mercer finished.

  He didn’t call Rael.

  Pack members snuck glances at Rael and Scylla, and Rael shook with impotent rage and bitter hurt, fear snaking through him as the silence grew. Whispers broke out, along with a few muffled snorts of laughter.