Raccor heard the truck long before the headlights lit up the corner of the formerly empty road. The diesel roar echoed off the industrial walls of the factories around him. He strode to the center of the road and dug his fingers into the holes of the manhole cover. Without even a grunt, he lifted the hundred pound cover with one hand and crawled down the ladder. Just as the truck came around the corner, he was far enough to pull the manhole cover back into place.
He took a deep breath as the truck roared above him. The rank smells of the sewer and the choking fumes from the exhaust tickled his senses. He was grateful he wasn’t in Crinos form. His half-human, half-wolf form was much stronger and faster but also suffered from enhanced senses.
Letting go of the rusty ladder, he dropped down into the sewer below. His boots splashed into a shallow puddle. Fresh smells of fetid water wafted up and he shook his head to clear them. He spun around once to orient himself, and then stomped toward the den.
“It’s three in the damn morning. What is so important that Bastile had to drag me out of bed?”
When the alpha called, Raccor was just pulling out of the health club’s parking lot. While being a steel worker during the day used to help him maintain his strength, technology had reduced the effort needed for his job and the health club was critical to keeping toned.
His cell phone rang. Raccor fumbled in his sweat pants until he pulled it out. He slid a finger across the screen to unlock it, but he didn’t bother bringing it to his ear. “Yeah, Bastile?”
“You there, yet?” Bastile spoke in a growl. He always spoke in a growl.
In the background, Raccor could hear the soft moans of sex. He paused his walking, trying to remember the last time he got properly laid. When he couldn’t, he shook his head. “Just about. What’s so damn important?”
“Bitch Boy said someone was following him.”
Raccor came to a stop. “Someone is attacking the den?”
“No, just Bitch being a bitch.” The rhythmic moaning grew louder from the phone.
Raccor closed his eyes and listened. Despite Bastile’s steady words, he could tell that the alpha was the reason for the sounds from the way his grunts matched the moans. He felt himself growing anxious as his body warmed up at the thought of something wrapped around his cock.
Raccor shook his head. “And if it is a false alarm?”
“Then beat the crap,” Bastile’s grunting grew more energetic, “out of that bitch.”
Grinning, Raccor tapped the screen to end the call. He shoved the phone back into the pocket inside his sweats. After hearing the alpha getting laid, he needed to either fuck or hurt something. And, one way or the other, there was going to be a beating in his future.
He ran the words to a familiar spell in his head. His clothes sank into his skin as he let the beast loose. Bones lengthen as fur burst out from his skin. He could feel the familiar ache as his body re-arranged itself and he dropped down into wolf form.
Raccor could change naturally, but over the years he had learned spells that sped the process and muted the discomfort. Instead of taking almost a minute to change, he could do it in a few seconds. He learned other magic from the pack’s old beta, something that he used to seal his place when the old man was killed during an invasion with a pair of vampires.
Dragging his thoughts back to the present, he padded down the sewer. The scuff of his paws echoed against the concrete walls. New smells assaulted him and he tried not to identify every unique smell that clung to the sewer walls like mold. He had a Bitch to check on.