In the living room of the Grey Watch’s training house, Genna sat on an antique sofa, her back ram-rod straight as a group of shifters filed in the door. There were the three women who’d been training her – Rintur, Feriur and Vash, all looking grim and severe – along with two others whom she hadn’t met before who had arrived just minutes ago. And trailing after them, head down, eyes on the floor, was Sven, the shifter male who was to convert her.
She tried to keep her eyes off the man, having been lectured at length about Grey Watch protocol when it came to males. They were fit for only two things, she had been told firmly. One was converting women into shifters – an unfortunate glitch in shifter biology meant that members of one gender could only convert the other gender – and the other was sex. A handful of males were kept in the camp for the sexual pleasure of the women, though the opportunity to mate with them was determined by rank and seniority, so it would likely be years until Genna herself got the chance. In the normal, day to day running of the pack, however, males were to be ignored.
But the Watch chose their men well, she had to admit. Sven was tall, muscular and blonde, the sort of man who would usually be found on the cover of a sports magazine. He wore buckskin trousers and a black jacket over his bare chest, the males of their pack denied the right to wear the usual grey robes of the Watch, and he had a collar around his neck.
“My name’s Lita,” one of the newcomers said, an ageing woman who walked with a slow, shuffling gait. “You’ve been told what is to come?”
“I have,” Genna replied. The conversion itself had sounded terrifying when Rintur had explained it to her, but the night to follow would be far worse. “I’m ready.”
“Let’s get this over with then. Sven, present yourself.”
Without a word, Sven came forward, removing his jacket to reveal a hairless, muscular chest. Then he stripped off his trousers with the same cool disinterest and stood before her naked.
It was not the first time Genna had seen a naked man, but the sight of him now left her trembling. And not from desire. He stood in the middle of the living room, accepted a knife from Lita and, without any preamble whatsoever, cut a long slit into his own wrist. He handed the knife to Genna, handle first, and she took it, pushing down the wave of fear she felt.
She stood up and removed the grey robe she had been given just an hour ago. Beneath it, she too was naked, and she felt the disapproving eyes of all the women upon her.
Determined to prove her worth as a shifter, Genna lifted the knife and pressed the tip into her own wrist. She had been expecting pain, had been bracing herself for it ever since she’d been told her conversion was to happen well ahead of schedule, but it was worse than she had anticipated. She pressed deeper, drawing blood as she tried to cut a line up her wrist, but she had to stop, clamping her jaw shut to keep from crying out. From the side of the room, Rintur made a sound of impatient disgust.
Taking a deep breath, Genna decided that she should treat this like ripping off a bandage. She took a moment to gather herself, then cut her arm quickly, a strangled sound of pain escaping her as her blood welled up.
Sven stepped forward, ignoring her pain, and took her arm, pressing the two cuts together.
Lita came forward next, holding an electric cord with a bare wire at the end. She plugged one end into a power socket on the wall, then flicked a switch halfway along. Electricity was the key to conversion, Genna had been told, and this device, crude as it was, got the job done. Part way along the wire was a heating element, designed to prevent new converts from being electrocuted, but that was the limit of the niceties. Lita stepped over and Genna braced herself again, every muscle taut.
Lita jammed the live wires directly into her and Sven’s joined wounds, and she screamed as a sharp current shot through her. Genna felt her body convulse, muscles jerking uncontrollably as she hit the floor. Loud complaints, words flung out with disdain echoed around her as she tried to get her bearings. There was something different about her body now, a tightness, a tingling sensation as a new presence seeped in from her arm, up into her chest, electricity crackling along her skin though Lita had already started packing the cable away. Genna struggled to stand up, knowing that weakness in any form was not tolerated amongst the Watch. Sven was still standing, she realised, and wondered dimly how often he had been through this. There was blood on the wooden floor, thick drops dribbling down her arm, through her fingers, and Genna fought to still her shaking. The night was far from over yet.
“Complete the ritual,” Lita snapped, and that was all the recovery time Genna was going to get. Sven came forward, his penis already erect, and Genna, overwhelmed and off balance, simply let him. He took her by the shoulders and pushed her down onto the floor, spread her legs and put his hand between them, and began what would, in other circumstances, have been called foreplay.
Genna had been told that this was part of the ritual, a mandatory mating with one of the Watch’s males, and when she’d been told, she’d been excited about it. Sven was a masterpiece of male perfection, chiselled jaw, rough stubble on his chin, powerful thighs, narrow waist, and for the month since she’d started her training in earnest, she’d been looking forward to the chance to get it on with the kind of man who would never have taken an interest in her in the normal course of things.
Now, though, her body was still thrumming from the near-electrocution and the conversion, her attention taken up with the baffling sensations of having a wolf invade her mind, and any romantic expectations she’d had about a gentle and beautiful initiation into a world of hedonistic pleasure vanished.
But this was necessary, she reminded herself, feeling the off-putting sensation of Sven’s wet mouth on her breast. This was the rite of passage she must endure that would allow her entry into a world of wonder and mysticism, an escape from the cold drudgery of life as a supermarket checkout girl, and she submitted, telling herself that the reward was worth the indignity of it all.
Long minutes later, as Genna was still trying to fight off the wolf pressing for its first shift, Sven thrust inside her, and she registered that he must have used some sort of lubricant, as she was not the slightest bit aroused herself. But, to satisfy the demands of the pack, she spread her legs, wrapped her thighs around him and clung to his shoulders as he thrust into her again and again.
She closed her eyes, trying to block out the fact that there were five women watching this, trying to ignore the sick feeling of being used, not by Sven, but by the women, by the Grey Watch, by a degrading tradition that served to bind her more closely to the shifter world.
Finally, it was over, Sven climaxing without a sound. He climbed off her, retreating to stand at the side of the room like the trained dog he was.
Genna stood up, her legs fighting to keep her upright, and registered that she was smeared with blood, the wound on her arm still seeping, and with other fluids. But cleaning up right now was not an option.
“The wolves are waiting outside,” Lita said, and for the first time, Genna recognised the undertone of malice in her voice. Her trials for this night were far from over.
Outside, once more dressed in her grey robe, Genna looked out into the darkness and saw dozens of pairs of eyes glowing in the dim light. The Grey Watch, in wolf form.
“Behold Genna, the omega,” Rintur called loudly, the women having followed her out of the house. Genna tried to hold herself up tall, attempting to appear strong and confident. “If she has the strength to reach the camp before dawn, she will become one of us. If not…” Rintur turned to Genna with a leer, “then she will return to the dust from whence she came. Let the run begin.”
The wolves came out of the darkness, a horde of black shadows, and Genna reached inside herself desperately. Her first shift, unassisted, on a frightening deadline, and she had no idea how to proceed. She held the image of a wolf firmly in her mind, imagined her limbs shortening, her muzzle lengthening… and bloody hell, it seemed to work. She felt static crackle over her skin, and then she was no longer Genna, the non-descript supermarket worker, but a wolf, small, bedraggled, and struggling to manage her four legs rather than the two she was used to.
The instant she was in wolf form, the wolves were on her. Their task was simple – to harass, to intimidate, to wound, but not to kill. They were to do anything in their power to stop her from reaching the camp before the night was over.
Weakness, Rintur had told her again and again, was a liability. A weak link was the one that was going to allow the Noturatii to wipe out their pack, if not their entire species. So new recruits had to prove from day one that they were worthy of the gifts bestowed upon them.
Genna had been given a map of the local streets, the forest, and the location of the camp, and had had no more than an hour to memorise the entire thing. The rest was up to her.
Death was not an appealing option. Genna felt suddenly angry about the brutality that these women seemed to think was so necessary in their daily lives. She had been short changed five of the six months of her training, converted in a rush, mated just as quickly, and now they wanted to bully her into giving up?
Not too fucking likely. With a snarl and a show of teeth, Genna threw herself at the nearest wolves, charged through the ring of bodies surrounding her… and she was off.