Raining Kisses (The Opeth Pack Saga Book 2)
Raining Kisses
The Opeth Pack Saga 2
Sascha Illyvich
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Author Note
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Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
A Look at Kisses Fall (The Opeth Pack Saga 3)
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About the Author
RAINING KISSES (THE OPETH PACK SAGA SERIES, BOOK 2)
Kindle Edition
Copyright © 2016 by Sascha Illyvich (as revised)
City Lights Press
P.O. Box 620427
Las Vegas, NV 89162
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
ISBN: 978-1-62918-438-8
Thank you Mom Goddess for putting up with me when I initially wrote this in Albuquerque. Much of this original draft was written in a lot of emotional torment and pain while I managed to do some work on a rehab project for an associate during a really difficult time of the year. I'm NOT a holiday person. The rewrites happened at a time in my life where I can't seem to get up no matter how hard I try, but the following individuals make me want to try every single day.
This is dedicated to Katie Sparkles, Lili, Kaitlyn, Barbara, Jody, Julie, Annette, the rest of the SilerWolf Prince Street team. Seleta you had a hand in this believing in my career and I can't be more grateful. My editor at Secret Cravings; who is also now an official historian of the Opeth Pack. Thank you for making this book shine and Nicolaus's story more heartfelt. Rob, thanks man. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. This is also dedicated to Johnny Stokes, aka The Kid. He knows why. I can't thank The Kid enough for his hospitality, his booze, his cigar friendly home and Nights in Club Impala. Quite frankly I never think “Thank you” is enough but it's all I have. I love you all.
Lastly, Katarina and Krystyna I had no idea this was your story as much as it was mine in a way.
Author Note
For those of you who have read His Reign, you’ve watched the struggle of Józsi with his two female lovers. Nicholaus’s struggle is no different. He’s stubborn like all Opeth Pack wolves, strong and determined. Thing is, he doesn’t know what he’s destined for. His past has colored his future and made him dig in against what his heart wanted.
Katarina and Krystyna know him well enough though. Each bears the scars of existence yet seeks comfort in their own way. They have seen his place in the pack through prophecy, with the help of their pack sisters and the pack witch, Selene. This story isn’t so much about a hot ménage, (though that’s important too lol!) as it is about three people learning to love each other deeply and let go of old wounds while embracing themselves.
I hope you all enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. For those of you wondering if I’m ever going to jump on the bandwagon and write a MMF story, well it’s already written ;) Oh, and again all Hungarian language mistakes are mine.
Sascha Illyvich
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Prologue
Twenty-five years earlier
Blood stained the walls, bringing with it the stench of death heavy in the air. Holes lined the walls where fists had gone through. Furniture had been tossed carelessly aside, ripped up and again, covered in blood.
Of course blood, and other body fluids, dripped from Nicholaus' fangs and were stuck in his fingernails.
“Kicsi Nicholaus, wake up.” A cold washcloth pressed against his forehead, wiping away sweat and blood, cooling his warm skin.
Coming to full consciousness, Nicholaus smelled iron and copper, felt the bitter tang of death in his mouth. He brushed shaggy strands of dark hair out of the way to see Katarina kneeling before him. Her red hair had been pulled back, giving light to her round face. She’d changed clothes from earlier. A sad smile looked like it had been painted on her face. Tears formed in her delicate green eyes. His stomach churned violently and threatened to end up coming out through his mouth. Nicholaus coughed and wiped furiously at his mouth until Katarina caught his hand. He met her compassionate yet scared stare. “What did I do?”
She wiped dried blood off his mouth, blotted her now falling tears off his cheek.
He looked around, spotted the scene. Body parts had been strewn about the room along the shards of broken glass and splintered wood.
Krystyna rushed to their side. Something wild crossed her eyes, making Nicholaus wonder what was going on in his other mate’s head.
“You did what you had to in killing Katarina's father and brother. Nicholaus, I was so scared!” Arms wrapped around him so tight they threatened to cut off his circulation.
“I’m free now,” Katarina sobbed. “Free!”
Free of…he searched his memories in a desperate attempt to remember what the hell he'd freed her from. Came back with nothing.
Then wretched screaming filled his memory. Images of jaws snapping, claws tearing into flesh while a woman sobbed horribly at the events that led to him barging in and…
“Oh no.” He swallowed hard. His heart pumped loudly, and his stomach lurched.
Krystyna knelt beside the two of them and took Nicholaus’s hand. Long fingers wrapped around his free hand, instantly sending waves of warmth through him. She made eye contact with him. Her steely gaze still surprised him for how young she was. “Indeed. You have taken out two of the most powerful amongst our pack. And the two most dangerous predators ever. And your hunger didn't stop there either. When their defenders came to their aid, you tore them to pieces.”
Nicholaus blinked, astounded. His jaw dropped, throat grew parched as the desert. He shook his head, stared at his hands as realization hit him. “No…no. Oh no.” He began sobbing. He’d massacred in cold blood. “We cannot tell Kiba! I took lives of others. I’m a murderer.” Tears stung the backs of his eyes.
Though he was only eleven years old, his skills had developed quickly. Everyone had blamed things on prophecy, saying he would fulfill a destiny but nobody would tell him what his destiny was; they would only shake their heads in sorrow.
“Relax,” Krystyna stroked his arm. She laced her fingers through his.
Glancing to his left, he saw the bulk of two bodies. The larger body lay with his head lolled to one side, exposing bone and muscle. Matted hair clung to his face, though his visage was barely recognizable. His eyes had had been left in place and were open wide, reflecting the horrendous torment he underwent at Nicholaus’s hands. Entrails were strewn from the man’s stomach. Angry cuts marked his arms, face and bare chest, accenting just how pale his skin truly was.
The other face held a warped expression, eyes gouged, throat torn out.
The rest of the mess consisted of strangulation victims, other wolves with their throats torn out and the remains of at least six others.
“What am I going to do?” Nicholaus shook his head. Putting his hands to his head, he started breathing in short pants as the realization that he’d murdered hit him.
“Relax,” Krystyna repeated. “It’ll be okay. Let our love guide you.”
He couldn’t force himself to settle down. Couldn’t make things b
etter. Why did he do it? Why did he have to do it? Hadn’t there been another way?
“You did what had to be done. Those two had been raping our pack women for years and no one had stopped them. They were once proud elders but lunar madness took their sanity.” Katarina whispered, sending more tranquility his way.
Then he did kill in self-defense. Right?
He’d seen those two bastards cornering Katarina and the frightened look on her face had sent him into a blind rage. He knew what they were going to do to her, and the thought made his stomach burn with anguish.
But there had to be a less violent way of dealing with her father and brother other than killing them.
What had happened next? He didn't remember. He blinked, rubbed his eyes and tried to think but couldn't see anything but bottomless blackness.
He slumped against the wall with Krystyna in one arm and Katarina huddled between them. He couldn’t remember.
His two mates stayed by his side until Les and a few of the Elders showed. They dismissed Nicholaus and his two mates from the room before cleaning up the dead bodies.
All the while, Nicholaus could only think of the anguish he'd caused the pack when it got out that he'd taken lives and not just killed them, but made a spectacle of it.
A week later, the pack now viewed him similarly to the former Enforcers, bodyguards of the Alpha. True, he carried the dominant trait in his genes; thank the Goddess for that strength. But his constitution…
Didn’t matter. The others in the pack lowered their eyes at him, not in pride at his newfound abilities and strength, but in pity, in shame. He didn't bother to ask why.
They feared him.
The word prophecy echoed in his head.
Strolling down the dirt streets of their village, he saw Les, Kiba’s brother, standing by the stone water well. Dressed in khakis and a blue dress shirt; his hair had grown out, making him look much younger. Dark, smooth skin and narrow eyes gave away his Asian heritage.
Nicholaus tried to pass unnoticed but Les stepped in front of him. “Why the animosity, Nicholaus? Something the matter?”
“I’m a fucking killer, Les. The others won’t face me. They’re afraid of me. I'm afraid of me. What the fuck’s wrong with me, Les?” Nicholaus began shaking, dying for the comfort of his lovers.
“You’re growing, Nicholaus. My brother heard what you did and to be honest, we were all shocked. Holy smokes, Nicholaus actually killed someone. That’s big news.”
“Why?”
Les shoved his hands in his pockets. “Because you are young. You’ve always had an innocence about you that will now be masked by your acts. It’s rare that we’ve had males in our pack who accelerate at a pace such as yours. My gosh, you’re barely eleven years old in human years but by a wolf’s standards you’re now much older. You hunt like the rest of us, but you’ve always had compassion for what you killed and ate. You’ve always displayed kindness even when faced with situations that called for natural violence. You’re a diplomat. To use such brutal tactics to stop Katarina’s father and brother seems out of character. Our pack is going through changes right now. You’ve set things in motion with your actions. You’ll continue to do so each time you use that deep, dark power, Nicholaus.”
Suddenly, Les looked away. “My brother is ill. Prophecy dictated his mental shift and your behavior as well. It dictated Józsi leaving and will guide him in his return. Prophecy is apparent.”
Nicholaus spat on the ground and lowered his gaze. “I’m tired of prophecy. Someone…” He shook his head and clenched his fists. Yeah, this whole mess was shit. “What can I do?”
“Accept it. You effectively cleansed the dirt from our pack, Nicholaus. Or you could leave like Józsi has, though he’ll be back in time. Or let your mates do what they do best and use their hearts to guide you to your predetermined status. Either way, prophecy dictates our future, so no matter what you choose, things will turn out how they will.”
Nicholaus looked up. “What have I set in motion by these deaths? What is my role in this God damn prophecy, Les?”
“I do not know. However, I felt things in the universe shift and know only that your place in the pack will ascend to greatness most of the elders will never see. You’ve been blessed by the Goddess.” Les turned and began walking away.
“Wait, Les! What is my place?” Nicholaus started after him but stopped when Les waved a hand dismissively.
God damn prophecy!
There couldn’t be a blessing in all of this. Nicholaus’s sleep since the murders had been filled with night terrors, forcing him to wake up screaming about all the bodies he’d personally piled up at the expense of a blood-thirsty need he felt growing within.
He’d seen a trail of blood leading to stacks of bodies in his dreams, both human and lupine and the voices started screaming back at him recently. Some screeched in horror, others in agony. The stench of their death on his muzzle woke him in a cold sweat. Panting, he often looked around the tiny room; saw nothing but the moonlight through the window. His sweat soaked sheets only made him shiver more until he realized he was back in his room.
Of course those were just dreams, right?
He didn't know for certain anymore. Lack of sleep made it difficult to tell the waking world from the dream.
Everywhere he went the people who knew what he'd done looked at him with revulsion.
When he’d glared at them, they quickly turned tail and ran in the opposite direction.
That’s when the fear crept up in him. Mostly when alone, because let’s face it, he had no business hanging around his two mates. Not when his violent streak could rear its head and cause him to harm one or both of them.
Not that they didn’t try. Both had access to his house, both knew when and where to find him. Still, he kept quiet around them.
Katarina took his silence the hardest. Her sad expression pained his heart. Her compassionate attempts to stop his emotional bleeding that he’d brushed off, brought an ache to his core.
Krystyna merely acted indifferent, so he didn’t push to mend things with her.
The idea Kiba kept blathering on about since he took control of the pack, had mentioned something about how wolves were the chosen rulers of this land, this planet. But because they’d abused their power, their gifts had been taken from them. There were a few other legends that had been passed down, Nicholaus remembered. Something about how the wolves were born of a goddess but forced to be born on Earth because the other gods in Heaven feared their existence the way humans had.
Kiba said someday paradise would open for all the wolves and they’d finally have a place to call home. Said home supposedly belonged to the wolves, Kiba declared. With his slowly growing madness, who could challenge the thought without earning Kiba's unpredictable wrath?
Nicholaus knew only one thing. Heaven was a lie.
Kiba's behavior from the Lunar Disease had him acting irrationally. When he spoke, he often slurred his words but because he was such a strong specimen, no one bothered to fight against him.
The one time someone rose up, they were smacked down brutally and without remorse.
Yeah, Nicholaus saw the psychopathy in Kiba’s eyes. Even his aura had turned and gone colorless. One thing magical creatures had over humans was the ability to see their auras, which gave even more insight into a being’s soul. Colors showcased moods when body language failed to be understood.
Nicholaus couldn’t risk being around that sort of thing with the ideas roaming around his head. He already felt the overwhelming influence of the Moon and the cycles going with it, pulling, pushing, and forcing him to act against what he once knew as truth.
He groaned, knowing what he had to do in order to escape the prophecy and any chosen destiny he already had. Taking his burden of shame with him was his rite, and he would not let anyone else bear it with him; the two in question just couldn’t. They were too pure. And too young. Both Krystyna and Katarina were slightly younger than him. H
e loved them so much that even thinking about having them help him heal and deal with this mess was enough to make his head hurt.
More importantly, what if he turned all that violent anger on them?
He couldn’t live with himself if even the slightest hair on either of them was hurt because of actions he couldn't control.
No. He only had one choice.
“I’ll have to do this. I’ll have to leave the pack. It’s the best thing for me. I cannot afford to turn into a murderous wolf that kills those he loves.”
With this resolve, he left.
Chapter 1
Twenty-five years later
Nicholaus mused over how badly some people drove down Central Avenue late at night. Odd that some people were dumb enough to not show good driving skills, knowing the cops in Albuquerque were such fascists about the dumbest things like slightly overshooting a left turn. Even if the wind was blowing hard enough to make driving difficult, which it was tonight, the cops would still pull someone over if they even thought the driver was under the influence.
Thankfully, Nicholaus didn’t have to worry about that problem right now. It took wolves much longer to get drunk.
Watching passing cars drive down Central Avenue was amusing to him. Standing on the balcony of his loft, he puffed on a large cigar, sending clouds of smoke billowing toward the somewhat cloudy sky. Another deep draw sent more smoke off toward the Hyatt Hotels, blurring the red and green lights atop the multi-story towers.
Nicholaus pulled his leather jacket tighter around broad shoulders. He pulled his ponytail free of his collar. Running long fingers through thick hair, he readjusted his ponytail and let it sweep over his slender waist.
A few people walked by, couples sometimes, sometimes groups. Talking, holding hands, laughing or acting drunk, they were all the same to him.