A raven-haired worshiper of the Titans--Hekate and Nyx--is determined to save her lover from an ancient curse, she must prove to him that life is worth living and that being a werewolf has its perks.
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Silver streaks of light shone from the clouds into the manor. Lycius was braced against the window so he could glare at the white outline of where the moon hid. The lights on this half of the house were out – his sight was not impacted. His eyes adapted to the darkness all too swiftly and caused him to take another anxious sip from the bottle. The change was already happening, and his father was barely cold in his grave.
He didn't want to be conscious for this. He didn't want it to be happening at all. His body was alert with every unfamiliar pang of pain in his muscles while his mind was softly numbing thanks to his drink.
Whatever curse his father had carried had now settled into Lycius like an infection. It was almost like he could feel something crawling all around his insides, gnawing at his organs and rearranging his very spirit. Maybe, just maybe, he was being paranoid. Maybe the curse wouldn't carry through and he was just having another panic attack. Or perhaps all these attacks were always part of the change, and the illusion of time was his sign that he had gone mad long ago.
Iris, his mother, had summoned him to attend the funeral. It had been a while since he had seen his relatives outside of holiday events, even then they were rare because his father's transformations were inconsistent. Erratic, much like how he was at heart.
Almost as if summoned by the thought of her, stilettos pummelled loudly across the parlour and Lycius' train of thought was stumped when all the lights of the house temporarily blinded him. He ran a hand over his face and spun on his heel to face his veiled mother and her new male companion.
'Darling, why are you standing in the dark?' she tucked her veil over her head to reveal the redness of her eyes. She looked like she had been hollowed out and that all that was left of her was a frail body waiting to be blown away in the wind. Her companion held her by her arm and had quite a bold gold moustache. He was a short man, not that much shorter than his mother but Lycius towered over the both of them.
'Come sit with me at the table. You need to eat,' she said, her eyes drifted to the wine bottle hanging limp at his side.
He gently though somewhat clumsily set the bottle down at an end table. 'I'm going out.'
'No, you're not,' she said sternly.
Lycius moved like a storm out of the house, snatching the car keys as he did. His mother didn't bother chasing after him, but the moustache man speedily paced behind him until they reached his car. The man put his hand on top of Lycius' as he reached for the handle and Lycius instinctively battered him away.
'Who the fuck are you?' Lycius said.
The man did not flinch and tucked his hands behind his back. 'You have until dawn,' moustache man said.
'You're giving me a curfew?' Lycius growled.
'No, sir. A warning.' The man shifted from one foot to the other as Lycius processed the meaning.
