Where Foxes Hunt with Wolves (Folk Lore 2)

“We will leave you be, Yevhen, but don’t you dare make contact.” Father’s voice was stone, as was his face, but Yev had no doubt Father’s heart bled, because his did too.

“No! I’ve just fought two challengers!” Yev kept his attention on the others, anticipating attacks. “I demand to be heard! To inquire about ways to bond. I will not be turned away!” Blood buzzed in his veins, and after years of hiding his true self, he couldn’t have felt more right. He’d earned his place in the pack with the scars on his back. He could now see it clearly. He should have always fought for this right, not cowered away like a weakling.

He was not a weakling.

Fresh blood stained his muzzle and remained a taste in his mouth. If force was the one thing werewolves understood, then he’d show it to them.

“Isn’t it enough that you broke a bond today? You’ve made Yulia a widow. I hope you’re happy,” Father said with bitterness oozing from him.

But Yev could only think of one thing that sparked a chain reaction in his mind.

“A widow can be purified to mate again. Prepared to take another’s scent.”

Father held his hands out, as if to strike Yev, but pulled back, and his pack saw that. “What does that matter?”

Yev met his gaze. “I demand that Radek gets a chance to go through that process. If the Moon-Eyed God decides that a man cannot become my mate, I will leave the pack.”

He didn’t miss the soft snarls behind father’s back.

“And if he can be?”

Yev swallowed, his heart still rattling. “Then he should be treated as any other werewolf’s mate.”

Father pursed his lips and his heavy gaze landed on Radek. “Does he even know what it means? Have you told him?”

Yev swallowed, leaning back as he searched Radek’s gaze. The blood on his lips was starting to go sour. “No. Not exactly. Didn’t want to create expectations for something that didn’t seem possible.”

Father let out a sad laugh. “Don’t make requests the boy can’t handle.”

To that Yev had no answer, and even in his massive werewolf form, he lowered his head. His face burned, but at least any flush of shame remained hidden under fur.

His gaze wandered to his brother’s body cooling in the snow.

Burian had always been after him. Jealous and petty, more focused on rules than people, he’d always been Yev’s enemy. But a brother nevertheless.

Nothing could have stung more than the way all of the men turned their gazes away from him on command. As if he no longer existed, and there was nothing of interest in the clearing beyond Burian’s bleeding body.

The snow stank of death.

Father’s gaze landed on Radek as he pulled Burian’s limp form into his arms. “Take your weapon,” he spat, and Radek stumbled to his feet to follow the order.

He approached without a word, wary of his every move, and so afraid that when he pulled the silver dagger out, he stumbled back fast, holding the bloodied thing to his chest.

The others were already leaving, but Father remained, hugging his firstborn, and looked up, shaking his head at Yev. “I will talk to the elders. Be ready.”

Chapter 25 – Radek

Radek was hardly proficient at cooking with one hand. Everything took him longer since the accident, and some tasks were impossible, but he’d learned to prepare a couple of dishes, and he’d use those skills today. Maybe that red string bracelet Mom had him wear to ward off evil spirits would help him prepare a decent breakfast. God knew he needed all the help he could get.

With a plate filled with scrambled eggs and a thick slice of toasted bread with butter, he made his way upstairs to the bedroom where Yev had still been sleeping when Radek had slipped out.

A few days had passed since the confrontation with Yev’s pack, yet despite the new status quo, nothing felt the same.

Yev had refused to clean himself before he’d packed the blood-soaked snow into a wheelbarrow and taken it to a large mound at the back of the house, where he’d buried it under layers of perfectly white fluff collected from around the shed. Radek had been too shocked to disturb him and had watched it happen while Burian’s blood dried on his skin and clothes.

Yev hadn’t eaten that day, and had spoken very little, refusing to acknowledge the scope of the tragedy at their very doorstep. The following day, he went to work as normal, and hadn’t mentioned the mysterious topic of mating, nor his brother’s death since.

They talked. They watched TV. They even had sex once.

Not once did Radek ask about the secrets of purification, unable to bring himself to bother Yev with his petty curiosity when his lover was mourning.

But life was not the same, and Radek had the sinking feeling that it never would be. That the prize they’d won smelled of rotting flesh and blood. And worst of all, that it was his fault, and that none of this would have happened if he hadn’t invaded Yev’s life.