Scent in the Alleys

POV: ZORAN

Ten minutes after leaving the suffocating confines of my penthouse, I am wandering through the freezing, rain-slicked streets of the city. The biting winter wind claws at my exposed neck, carrying the harsh stench of exhaust fumes, wet asphalt, and rotting garbage. My unnaturally hot werewolf blood burns beneath my skin, pushing outward to keep the brutal cold weather at bay. I am lost in dark thoughts. The memory of the witch and the jagged cliff edge loops on an endless, torturous reel in my mind. My feet carry me blindly through the darkness until the bright neon lights of the wealthy districts fade into the bleak, towering shadows of a quiet industrial area. The heavy, metallic stench of cheap, illegal drugs hits my nose, pulling me out of my brooding isolation.

A group of aggressive, rough-looking human men huddle in a narrow, trash-filled alleyway. They lean against the damp, graffiti-covered brick walls, sniffing powder from the backs of their scarred hands and passing around a thick, pungent joint.

One of the thugs spots me walking past the opening of the alley. He elbows his friend and points a dirty finger in my direction.

"Pretty boy looks loaded. Shall we rough him up?"

Another thug spits a wad of phlegm onto the concrete, eyeing my jacket with greed. "Too stupid to be out here. Those clothes are branded, mate. Look at him."

"His boots alone are gold mines."

I stop walking and turn my head. I stare at them through the dim, flickering glow of a broken streetlamp. They are sizing me up, high on whatever garbage they just snorted. They are oblivious to the lethal supernatural danger standing right in front of them. My restless inner wolf scratches at the confines of my mind, pacing back and forth, craving a violent release. I need a distraction to bleed out this suffocating anger. I slow my pace, turn my body to face the group, and offer a mocking smile.

"Can I help you boys?"

The leader of the group steps forward out of the shadows. He is a chunky man with a shaved head and a neck covered in faded prison tattoos. He rolls his broad shoulders and cracks his knuckles with a sickening pop.

"What do you think, mate? Think you’re some big shot?"

I chuckle, shoving my hands deep into the pockets of my leather jacket. "No. Just a pretty boy stupid enough to be out here all alone."

The men exchange confused glances. The heavy narcotics make them slow, twisting their perception of reality. A sober man would have taken one look at my tall, muscular build and walked the other way.

The leader sneers, stepping closer and flashing a row of rotting yellow teeth. "Well, since you’re here, shall we have some fun?"

"Let’s play then. Come on, pretty boy, let’s see what you got."

I pull my hand out of my pocket and run my fingers through my damp hair. "I really wish I could say at least one of you boys is my type. Sadly, each of your faces is worse than a donkey's backside. That in itself is a massive turn-off."

The alley erupts. The thugs throw their hands up, jeering and shouting obscenities into the night.

"Hear that, guys? News flash, pretty boy, you’re the bitch here!"

My mocking smile vanishes. Anger flares hot and heavy in my chest. Neither my dominant human side nor my predatory inner wolf will tolerate pathetic insults from low-life human trash.

"Let’s put that to the test."

I move with supernatural swiftness. Before the first thug can even blink, I close the distance and drive my fist straight into his face. Bone crunches under my knuckles. Blood sprays into the cold air, and he drops to the wet asphalt like a stone. The next two lunge at me with clumsy, uncoordinated swings. I reach out and grab them both by the scruff of their filthy jackets. Using their own momentum against them, I smash their bodies together with bone-rattling force. They collapse to the ground in a tangled heap of groans and shattered ribs.

The leader roars in blind fury. He rushes me, drawing a small switchblade from his back pocket. The sharp click of the blade locking into place echoes off the brick walls. He thrusts the sharp steel toward my ribs. I dodge the blade with a simple sidestep and snatch his wrist in an iron grip. I reach out with my free hand and grab him directly by his throat. I lift his heavy body off the ground until his boots kick empty air.

"You should learn some respect." I bare my teeth, letting a dangerous growl rip from my chest.

The instinctual urge to snap his neck and end his miserable life surges through my veins. I fight the beast back, opting to punch him directly in the throat. I hold back enough strength to keep him breathing. He drops his switchblade, clutching his crushed windpipe as he falls to his knees, gasping for air.

The last two remaining thugs stumble backward. They press themselves against the damp brick wall, trembling in sheer terror. The dim alley light catches my face. I know my eyes are glowing a supernatural, predatory green.

"He isn’t normal," one of them stammers, his voice cracking with panic.

"I wouldn't run if I were you. I love a chase." My inner wolf overlays my voice, turning my words into a guttural, demonic rumble.

They turn to flee, but I am faster. I lunge forward and grab them forcefully by their collars. I yank them backward and slam their skulls together. A hollow thud echoes through the alley as their eyes roll back into their heads. I open my hands and drop their unconscious bodies to the filthy ground like broken ragdolls.

I stand over the scattered, bleeding bodies of the thugs. I dust off the sleeves of my leather jacket. Before I leave the bloodied alley, I step over to the men who are still conscious and groaning in the dirt. I raise my heavy, expensive boots. I bring my heel down hard on their testicles, crushing their groins against the concrete. High-pitched shrieks of agony bounce off the brick walls, sounding like terrified children. A dark smirk crosses my lips. I turn on my heel and walk away, leaving them to writhe in the wet trash.

The rush of the fight fades fast. As I walk down the desolate street, the cold silence of the night returns. My mind immediately drifts back to the tragic dream. The image of the young, skeletal witch falling off the cliff edge haunts my vision. I had not had that specific nightmare in five months, yet tonight, it came back with a vengeance. The suffocating weight of guilt settles heavily on my shoulders, bringing a dull, throbbing ache to my temples.

I kick an empty glass bottle sitting on the curb. It shatters against the brick wall, raining sharp shards over the pavement. A stray cat shrieks in the darkness, and a pair of dogs bark in the distance.

I cannot talk about this immense guilt with my parents. My father would tell my mother, and she despised the very mention of the topic. The only other people in this world who truly understand the depth of what happened are Nyx and Lyra. Nyx is practically a stranger to me; we barely know each other and I do not have his contact information. Lyra is a different story.

Lyra understands, but she is out of bounds. She is the true mate of my terrifying uncle Bal. I had a sexual relationship with Lyra before the mate bond snapped them together. Sleeping with her created a massive, bloody rift in my family. Reaching out to her now, sending her a message about my trauma, would only reignite the tension. Bal is lethal. Giving him a valid excuse to try and physically tear me to pieces is a death wish. We are just starting to get on better terms. I refuse to ruin that over my own selfish need for comfort.

I am alone with my haunting dreams. There is no one to share the burden.

I round the corner into another dark street. Suddenly, the wind shifts.

A scent hits my nose out of nowhere. It is the most enticing, intoxicating aroma I have ever experienced. It smells divine, a rich and overwhelming fragrance that bypasses my rational mind and strikes straight at my soul. My heart rate spikes instantly. My blood rushes roaring into my ears.

The beast inside me thrashes wildly. The instinctual urge to track down the source consumes my rational thoughts. My muscles bunch up, and my claws threaten to tear through my fingertips.

I break into a full, aggressive sprint. I tear through the worst parts of the city, my heavy boots pounding the wet pavement. I navigate the labyrinthine alleys with terrifying speed, leaping over low brick walls and dodging overflowing dumpsters. The intoxicating aroma grows stronger with every step I take, overriding everything else in the world. My inner wolf claws at my chest, desperate to shift into his true form, desperate to claim whatever is waiting at the end of this trail.

Up ahead in the darkness, the sudden sounds of a desperate commotion shatter the silence. I hear heavy, pursuing footsteps slapping against the concrete. I detect the foul, rotting stench of dark magic and decay. Two dark witches are close by, their foul scent clashing harshly with the divine aroma pulling me forward.

I speed up, bursting out of a narrow alleyway into a wider street.

A slender young woman is sprinting toward me. Her striking pale hair flies in the freezing wind, obscuring her face. She is desperate, looking over her shoulder at the shadows chasing her. Her chest heaves with sheer panic. She does not see me standing in her path.

She turns her head forward just a second too late. She slams directly into my solid chest.

The impact is explosive. Blinding, euphoric sparks erupt through my body the second our flesh connects. It feels like grabbing a sizzling, high-voltage live wire with bare hands. The jolt shocks my system, sending a wave of raw power down my spine.

The force of the collision knocks her off balance. I snake my large, muscular arm tightly around her tiny, fragile waist, catching her before she can tumble onto the wet ground.

She lets out a sharp gasp of shock. Her small hands grip the lapels of my leather jacket tightly to steady herself. She throws her head back and looks up at me. My breath catches in my throat. She has the most stunning, vibrant blue eyes I have ever seen. They are wide and terrified, framed by strands of pale hair.

Her divine scent envelopes my senses, wrapping around me like a thick blanket. Her soft, fragile body presses intimately against my hard, muscular frame. I feel the soft curve of her breasts pressing firmly against my chest through the fabric of my thin shirt. The physical contact sends another surge of electricity through my veins. A devastating urge hits me. I want to sink my teeth deep into her neck. I want to mark her flesh. I want to claim her as mine right here on the filthy street and tear apart anyone who dares to pursue her.

My inner wolf howls in pure triumph.

Goddess… She’s my mate.