Author's Note: Everything in this story (the characters and events) are my own original creations. Please do not steal them. Thank you. ~Desert

Warning: If you do not like reading about two guys being in love with each other, do not continue reading.

Chapter One


A quiet and rainy summer's night…at least it was for now. A smirk played on my lips, one that had sent chills down the spines of my victims, and had been the last thing they ever saw in this life time. My fingers rubbed the dog tag that hung around my neck and traced the groves where my name, Aidan Starling, was engraved in the metal. The reverse side held my identification number, 3-4-2. The pack leader found it easier to just give the assassins identification numbers rather than learn the actual names of the assassins. The tag was the only thing that showed that I was a member of the werewolf assassin team; for an assassin would never wish to be made and spotted on a mission.

I was one of the best in the whole pack and I was on the number one ranked team. All teams had three members, and each member had a different job. On my team there was Lilith, the spy, and Thomas (Tom for short), the weapons specialist. My job, well, it was to actually be the one who killed the people we were assigned to kill. I was the team leader and the assassin.

It never bothered anyone in the pack that I, the prince of the wolf pack, was an assassin, if only because they did not know that I was a prince. My brother, Adrian, and I were not supposed to live past childhood. Our mother who had been assigned to kill us had felt sorry and she hadn't been able to actually follow through, for years she raised us as her own flesh and blood. Back then I had been happy, until the night the pack found out we were still alive, and sent the best assassin they had at the time to fix the problem. I was eight years old at the time, my brother was twelve, but he had already left to train at the EWA (Eastern Werewolf Academy) and had to stay at the school like all of the other students.

I had heard a crash from my mother's room. So, of course being the little kid I was, went to investigate. There was a man in her room, and he had a bloody knife. I do not remember much from that night, but I do recall waking up later covered in blood, the man dead beside me. I had killed him. I had bloodied my hands for the first time when I was only eight.

I was still alive, but my brother had vanished one day while he was on a mission, and for a while I was worried about him. The worry eventually ebbed away when I figured that he had never been there for me so I should not be there for him either.

A soft rustle brought me out of the daze that I had been in. I looked up; my brown hair clinging to my face; a sudden movement from a bush caught my eye. As I eyed the plant a squirrel jumped out and I simply sighed. I had hoped that it would be something that I could have fun with. A stray dog to fight or a cat to chase would have been fine. A squirrel? Not so much. I was in the mood for a hunt or a fight. And I would be on a hunt just not for squirrel. I had a more important mission that night, and that was the reason I was stuck out in the rain.

Tom, Lily, and I kneeled before our pack leader, the back of our necks bare, a sign of submission. It was a little after dinner time and we had just been summoned to see him. I hoped for our next mission assignment.

The pack leader, Raphael, looked to be in his late forties, but other than his graying hair there was no sign of his age, otherwise he looked healthy and fit.

"You have been called here for your next assignment," Raphael said, his voice was commanding as always.

Silently, I cheered; we had not had an assignment in months, and I, personally, had become very bored. "Who is our target, sire?" I looked up at him, still down on one knee, and in a submissive state before our leader.

A grin formed on his face and, suddenly, I had a bad feeling in my stomach, the butterflies began fluttering frantically. "Your target?" he purred and I started to feel sick. Oblivious to my discomfort, he continued, "Funny you should ask about that. You see, your target is the one person who we know very little about. We have a picture and that's all." I felt my stomach do flip-flops as the butterflies turned into dragons. "Your target is the vampire prince, Sirius Night."

The color drained from my face. That was the one who my brother had to find and kill before he vanished. The prince, this Sirius Night, person was supposedly untouchable. No werewolf had gone up against him and lived to tell about it. "Can I see the picture?" I asked in a hushed tone, my eyes on the floor again.

He tossed a folder to the ground in front of me. I opened and stared at the picture for a bit, memorizing his face. He had pale skin that had no blemishes at all and his eyes were blood red with specs of black in them. His hair was silver in color, and had a dull shine to it; it covered the tops of his ears and framed his face perfectly.

I closed the folder. It had only come to my attention then that I had been staring at the picture for a while. "We will not fail you sire," I told him as I stood up. Lily and Tom followed my example.

He smiled, though it made me feel like he had already planned our funerals. "I expect nothing less than perfection. Dismissed."

We quickly left the room. We met just outside of the pack boundaries and Lily told us all she knew about the prince: the key bit of information was that the prince and his family always went for a walk in Central Park around 1 o'clock a.m. every morning. We discussed the plan and then left to get our gear before finally leaving for Central Park to begin the mission.

My eyes scanned the area around me; any movement caught my attention. I was alert; it was almost 1 a.m. A sudden movement on the path locked and held my gaze. Four people, or was it five; I could not tell from this distance, walked down the path. I knew I had to transform. I had to become the wolf; then I would be able to tell who they were and if I had to attack.

I stepped back into the shadows of the trees. The rain had started to let up as I shut my eyes. My transformation was smooth and quick. My bones (broke) warped and molded into that of a wolves. My jaw elongated; teeth turned to those of the canine I was to become. White fur sprouted from ever pore on my body, and replaced my dark brown hair with white wolf's fur, but my eyes stayed green. And then it was over. I was a wolf, a pure white predator a bit larger than a golden retriever. I lowered my head and let the dog tag fall from my neck.

As they approached my hiding spot, I bit down on my left hind leg hard enough to draw blood. It hurt a bit, but no more than a pinch would. I licked the damp grass to get the blood off of my muzzle and to complete the disguise; I hung my head, tail between my legs, as I limped out onto the path in front of them. I whimpered and paused for a moment and pretended to rest. It was important for me to act and to be good at it. It was one way I could get close enough to a person I was hunting and kill them.

My ears twitched as I heard them stop. I looked up, my eyes wide with fear as I backed away from them. I had been right. It was the prince, his mother and father, a smaller child, and a member of the royal guard. And to my complete and utter shock, it was the prince himself who kneeled down by me and held out his hand.

"It's okay boy, we won't hurt you. Just want to take a look at your leg," the prince said. His voice was soft and kind, without a hint of malice or hate.

An uncomfortable knot formed in my stomach, something was not right. I slowly made my way towards him and was about to lick his hand when the sound of a gun rang out through the night air. I could not help myself at that moment; I leapt in front of the prince, knocked him away, and the bullet pierced my skin instead of his. I yelped, the bone in my shoulder had been shattered. I looked at him and my eyes pleaded with him to understand that he had to run. Blood started to flow from the wound, the white fur that covered my body turned red.

"You're one of them," he said breathlessly. He had fallen backwards when I had pushed him. He stared wide eyed at me, probably in as much shock as I was about saving his neck.

"Aidan what the hell was that?" I heard Tom's voice roar. He sounded mad. Who could blame him? I had probably screwed up our mission.

I could see what little color was in the vampires' faces drain. I shifted back, my hand pressed against my bleeding shoulder. It was warm and sticky, but I kept my hand there. I growled at Tom as he stepped out from his hiding spot. Tom's platinum blonde hair was stuck to his head from the rain, and his blue eyes were confused, shocked, and angry.

I snapped as if I dared him to try my patience again. He may be my best friend, but I was still in charge of the team. "That was not the plan," I hissed at him. The world seemed to slow as I heard the clicking of a gun and spun around. "Tom, find Lily and run," I barked and bolted through the crowd of vampires before me. I felt something tear at my skin.

I didn't know what had cut into my side as I ran past them, but it hurt like hell. Fear gripped me, I pushed my muscles to their limit. The worst part was not that I could die from the wounds, but was that I could not transform in my current state. I yelped as a rope was thrown around my neck and pulled tight. I gagged and tried to claw it off, but in vain. I was muzzled and had my hands and feet bound with rope.

That didn't stop my fight. I kept up the struggle. I could hear the king boasting about how he had caught the infamous assassin, and, despite myself, I rolled my eyes. He caught me? No, I could have sworn that he sat there on his butt in shock that a werewolf got so close to his family and then let the rest of them do the work. It reminded me of something. Oh yeah, a male lion and Raphael would have done the exact same thing that the king had done.

I felt a hand cover my eyes as I was lifted and carried somewhere. I would have bit the hand, but due to the muzzle, I couldn't. The skin was strangely soft and smelled of pears. I figured it had to be a girl's hand. Who else would have soft skin and smell like that? I sure didn't; I smelled like wet dog half of the time, and my skin was scarred so much so that it was no longer smooth, by any stretch of the imagination.

My pulse raced. I was scared. Honest to God, I was scared. I had been raised on the theory that vampires were evil, and that they were nothing, but parasites that lived off the blood of other creatures and murders them just to live. I tried to calm down because I knew that if I panicked then I would end up dead.

"Why did you save me?" the soft voice of the prince purred in my ear.

I shivered, a new fear arising in my heart. If he bit me, it was all over. The bite of a vampire could be lethal to a werewolf and vice versa for the bite of a werewolf to pierce the skin of a vampire. For the longest thirty seconds of my life, I struggled to find my voice. Then I was finally able to answer him, "I don't have to tell you a damn thing." Not the smartest move I could have made, but what I said was said.

He slapped me, hard. I felt blood trickle down my cheek. He said no more as he roughly placed me down and I sniffed. It smelled like a car.

I was in the back of a car now; I knew for sure now because I could feel the floor vibrating beneath me. Secretly, I hoped that the car crashed and we all died, but I knew that that would not happen. I chewed on my lower lip nervously. I wanted to get free, break out of this car and run.

Now I was going to vanish like my brother and his team did when they had this assignment. I wanted nothing more than to become a wolf; I felt safer in that form. I could curl up into a ball and actually do some damage if someone tried to touch me in any way that I did not want or like, but my injuries prevented me from the form I longed to be in.

My shoulder hurt like hell as did my side. I knew I would survive, but a sudden blinding pain shot through my shoulder. I could feel someone's finger inside my wound, and I had to fight back the tears that threatened to fall. What the hell were they doing? I half wondered if they were trying to get the bullet out. Either way this was torture. Finally, the feeling was over, and my shoulder throbbed painfully. I panted and groaned as I felt my shoulder begin to heal.

That was the one good thing about being a werewolf: we had natural healing abilities that kicked in almost instantly, although the wound to my side was worrying me because it had not started to heal yet.

The pain was too much for me to handle anymore. My side killed, and the pain from my shoulder healing, it was too much. I shut my eyes and slipped in the darkness.

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