Fucked up, drugged up, freak of nature…

Tristan scribbled on his notepad and gulped down the rest of his Scotch. It was New Year’s Eve, and the lone wolf had not gone out to celebrate. A year had passed since he last saw Cassius or anyone else who had been part of his pack. It was twelve months of isolation, excessive binges on Bane, and dangerous orgies with vampires. Tristan had abandoned his responsibilities as a strong Alpha wolf and had succumbed to the darkest part of his nature. He was a self-loathing man who continuously struggled to accept his sexuality.

Getting away from Cassius resulted in nothing but further torment. Shooting Bane every day helped him numb his anguish and despair, but it never made him forget about the boy who was so naively in love with him. Those hazel eyes were forever burned in his memory.

Tristan got up from his bed and cranked up the music on his stereo.

“She said… don’t need your kind… ‘round here...” he sang along with Jamie McDermott from The Irrepressibles. Ironically, the song was about forbidden love, thus the name, “Forbidden.”

A rhythmic bass drum pounded through his ears as he lay on his bed and let the drug work its magic. He stared up at his ceiling as his pupils began to dilate before the hallucinations… Green vines were growing above him, spiraling and stretching all over the ceiling fans. Red and white roses began to bloom as if they were breathing to the beat of the music, blossoming one at a time. Tristan laughed and reached for the falling petals; he was convinced they were real.

Mesmerized and high as a kite, he stretched out his arms and legs like a starfish, wearing only a pair of faded Levi’s.

The snout of a white wolf began to morph out of the ceiling. It had glowing golden eyes and Tristan did not break eye contact with it. The wolf’s paws began to form, following the rest of the beast’s body as it appeared to be leaping out toward him in slow motion.

“Playin’ with the mind…” Tristan hummed and laughed, surrendering to his delusional state of euphoria while dopamine rushed through his neurocircuits. He could no longer differentiate between illusion and reality, but he didn’t care.

His forearms were covered in track marks and bruises. As a werewolf, his body should have been able to heal almost instantly. However, ever since he started allowing vampires to feed on him, the venom from their fangs had weakened his immune system. He was an Alpha, fallen; a young man who had lost all love and respect for himself. Tristan was in dire need of saving, but his pack had strict orders to stay out of his personal life. And as for God… he had lost faith in him a long time ago.

While the song played on, he began to think about Cassius and let his body sink into the mattress.  

He’s probably dating Chrissie now… or some cute college chick… or a cute college boy.

His hallucination suddenly transformed as quick as the thought escaped his mind. The roses that were growing out of the ceiling began to bleed. Drops of crimson blood rained down on Tristan. It felt as real as water dripping over his body. The white wolf had disappeared and had turned into nothing but glitter dust, shimmering over him.

“Your warmth… always… with me…”

Tears began to fill Tristan’s eyes as his heartbeat accelerated—fear fueling pain. Everything in his mind was Cassius now as he fought for dominance against his rebelling emotions. He remembered the taste of his lips, his scent, and the first time he’d made love to Cassius on that very bed that he lay on. The feelings were overpoweringly amplified, especially while he was high. Tristan had successfully pushed away the only person he cared about more than his life. And now that he was realizing the reality of never seeing him again, he felt his heart shatter inside his chest like glass. He wanted to die. His psychedelic trip was swiftly taking a turn for the worst.

Tristan sat up and reached for his syringe with a trembling hand. Determined to end his torment, he struggled to fasten the belt around his arm. He was just too out of it and unaware of the fact that he was already overdosing.  

Slipping from consciousness, Tristan tried to focus on the sound in the background while his pending death loomed closer like an ominous entity.

BOOM... BOOM... BOOM!

He frowned in confusion. Time had slowed down, including everything that he was hearing—it was all echoing slowly, faintly.

He wanted to lie down, but the sound continued. Only this time, a female voice was shouting his name.

“Tristan!”

BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!

He slowly turned his head toward the entrance of his loft. It was a large iron barricade that slid open like a barn door. He had locked it shut earlier in the evening. As soon as Tristan took a few steps, he collapsed. His eyes rolled back and he blacked out.

“Tristan, invite me in! Please!”

The redhead who was standing behind the door was growing frantic. She took a step back and kicked the door down with the heel of her pointy black shoe.

“Oh my God!” She panicked when she saw her friend lying unconscious.

Realizing that her options were limited, she knew that as soon as she’d step inside her skin would burn. It was one of the consequences of entering a premises without permission of the owner; one of the many rules that was listed in the vampire handbook.

Mustering up all her bravery, she attempted to dash inside to grab Tristan, but her vampire speed was weakened. She struggled to reach him because an invisible force was pushing her out. Despite this, the vampire resisted and made her way through, screaming in pain as her blood began to burn like acid in her veins.

By the time she got to Tristan, smoke was coming off her face and body as she held on to him and allowed that powerful force to shove her out of the loft. Her body smashed into the wall in the hallway, leaving a very large crack behind her. However, she remained unharmed.

“Tristan! Tristan, stay with me!” She lightly slapped his face, hoping he would regain consciousness. But the Alpha remained unresponsive.

Desperate to save her friend, she grabbed Tristan’s arm and sank her fangs into his flesh. The venom was like a shot of adrenaline.

“Aaaaaaaaarghhhh!” he howled in excruciating pain, while his eyes transitioned to a brilliant gold. In his drug hazed condition, paranoia was quickly clouding his judgment. His body automatically responded and was preparing itself for fight or flight.

“Hey, it’s me! Calm down!” She held him in her arms, hoping he would keep his animalistic aggression in check.

The Alpha’s growls died down as he looked up. His vision was blurry as he continued to hallucinate. What he saw was not a beautiful, green eyed redhead stroking his face, but a handsome young man who looked exactly like Cassius.

“… Cass,” he uttered.

“It’s me, Holland.” She stroked his face. “Tristan, you’re overdosing.”

“Cassius…” He was slipping away again.

“N-n-no!” Her voice trembled as she slapped his face harder this time. “Please stay conscious! Tristan, you’re going to die if I don’t…” Holland exhaled. “Fuck it.” She bit into her wrist and forced it against his mouth. She knew her blood would weaken him, but at least it would flush out the deadly drug that was coursing through his veins. Vampire blood cured almost anything.

Tristan groaned as the minutes passed. He slowly regained awareness. His body felt weak, as if he’d been hit by a bus. Holland remained by his side, affectionately petting his hair with his head in her lap.

“Wha… What happened?” Tristan’s pupils had finally restored to its normal size. He looked up at the vampire and recognized her at last. “Holland, what are you—”

“Invite me in and I’ll explain.”

||||||||||

The aromatic scent of freshly made coffee wafted through Tristan’s loft as the gorgeous redhead handed him a steaming mug and sat beside him on the bed. Holland Crystal was a vampire Tristan had met at a fang-banger club three months ago. At only nineteen, she was a college drop-out and worked as a stripper. Her boss had been the one who had turned her into a vampire. Unfortunately, Holland’s transition from human to supernatural hadn’t been everything she’d hoped for. Prior to her transformation, she had been living with her alcoholic foster mother in The Bronx. All her life she’d grown up being passed on from home to home. Desperate to escape the chains of her past, she had planned to run away, and she had done exactly that when she turned eighteen.

Throughout that year, Holland had tried her best to support herself and live independently, but it was hard to pay the bills on minimum wage… so she turned to stripping. Running into Diego Vasquez appeared to be a blessing in disguise at the time, but little did she know that she would soon be forced into a world of sex, drugs, and dangerous liaisons with supernatural beings no one wanted to mess with.

Holland’s new life revolved around her clients at the strip club, and her easy access to Vancroff’s street drug: Bane. When she wasn’t taking her clothes off for money, feeding on humans, and participating in wild orgies, she was selling drugs for her boss to make extra cash on the side. Diego had ties to the Covaci family: a Romanian coven of vampires who were the biggest mob bosses among another coven of vamps that were half wolf, half vampire—hybrids, to be precise.

For many years they had been at war with each other because the Covaci family believed that all hybrids were an abomination and had to be exterminated. For centuries the covens fought for territory and power in a city that was infested with supernatural creatures and a hundred faces of evil.

Vampire scientist, Viktor Vancroff had been hired by Soren Covaci to deal with the growing “werewolf problem,” which explained why he’d concocted the deadly drug. The quickest and most efficient way to destroy the wolf packs was to get them addicted to Bane.

Holland placed a comforting hand on Tristan’s back. “You scared me earlier. I really thought you were gonna die.”

He didn’t meet her eyes as he said, “That was the plan. I wish you hadn’t interrupted.” Tristan sipped his coffee. “By the way, happy fuckin’ new year.”

Holland frowned and shook her head. “I wish you would’ve called me. You need to stop using this stuff, Tristan. I mean it!” She looked at his nightstand and opened the drawer; it was full of syringes and four vials of Bane. She reached inside and grabbed the vials before heading to the bathroom.

“Hey!” he shouted. “Where are you going with those?”

“Getting rid of your suicide squad!” She knew she could have kept the drugs and sold them, but in that moment Holland felt nothing but disappointment in herself. She was far from happy with the choices she had made in her life. Getting involved in Diego’s drug cartel was the last thing she wanted to do.

Tristan painfully cringed when he heard the toilet flush. His drugs were gone.

I can always get some later, he told himself, hoping that it would slow down his racing mind.

Holland was soon standing in front of him again. She sat on her legs and rested her hands on his knees. “I’m worried about you. That’s why I came over. You were supposed to come to Niko’s New Year’s Eve bash.”

“I never made any promises.” He met her evergreen eyes and felt bad for being a terrible friend. “Look, I’m sorry I flaked out on you. There’s a reason why I don’t do relationships of any kind… because of this.”

Holland quirked an eyebrow at him. “Define ‘this.’ ”

“You’re looking at it, sweetheart. Me—everything that I am… one fucked up package.”

The sexy vampire rolled her eyes and stood up to undress herself. She stripped down to her panties and glanced at Tristan. “All right, wolf boy, move over and pull back the covers.”

“What are you doing?” Tristan looked confused.

“What does it look like?” She placed her hand on her hip. “I’m gonna sleep next to you because there’s no way in hell I’m leaving you alone tonight.”

She felt no shame in her visible indecency. Her body was flawless, her skin was soft and creamy, and her globes of flesh would have fit perfectly in Tristan’s hands (had he made the attempt to reach for them and find out for himself). He had never told her that he was attracted to men, but in a way, he didn’t need to. Holland had long suspected that Tristan was sexually fluid. She knew he hated labels, and she hated labelling things herself. So they never had an in-depth discussion about the people they had dated and slept with.

“I should take you to the doghouse”—she giggled—“and punish you after this stunt you pulled tonight.” She reached for the buttons on Tristan’s trousers, unfastened them, and yanked them off. “Now, listen to me and move over.”

The pair had never been intimate with each other, but Tristan had seen Holland many times taking her clothes off at the strip club. He made room for her on the bed and relaxed on his back as she crawled in and molded herself against his buff body. From a bird’s eye point of view, they looked like two beautifully broken lovers, holding each other in a tender embrace.

“How did you get in here?” he asked while playing with her hair.

“Vampires aren’t supposed to enter a home unless we’re invited in… but that doesn’t mean that we can’t get in. Ever heard of self-immolation?”

“No.”

“Being burned alive—that’s what it feels like.”

 “Shit,” Tristan cursed.

“Yeah, not fun. I almost combusted into flames before I reached you.” She met his eyes and tried to find the answer she was looking for. “Tristan, why did you try to kill yourself? Why are you so unhappy?”

He couldn’t hold her gaze as he looked up at the ceiling and said, “It’s too complicated to explain.”

“Well, you know I’m nocturnal. We’ve got all night. Try me.”

He released a lengthy sigh. “I think I’m having an identity crisis.”

“You think, or you know?”

He glanced at her and noticed the way she simpered slyly.

“Is this a wolf thing?” she said. “Because if it is, you’re shit out of luck getting proper advice from me.”

“I don’t know if it’s a wolf thing or a human thing.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t analyze it.” Holland reached for his face and gently kissed his lips.

Tristan didn’t pull away. There was something comforting in the simple intimacy of the nearest touch. He deepened their kiss and trapped her beneath his body when he rolled on top of her.

“Tristan”—she pulled back for breath—“what are—”

But he didn’t let her finish her sentence as his mouth crashed down onto hers. In that moment, all he could feel was a destructive attraction that was consuming him from the inside, waiting to swallow him up.

Holland sighed softly when she felt his burning lips on her neck. He was erect as a dog and throbbing against her inner thigh.

“You’re not… thinking… clearly,” she managed to say.

“You’re wrong.” Tristan paused. “I have more clarity than ever.” He pulled her legs apart before their bodies coupled together.

It was teeth, tongue, and lips competing for dominance as both supernatural beings pushed each other to the brink of ecstasy and back. At some point, Holland managed to mount him and took control as she rocked her hips back and forth, desperate for a mutual release.

Every sensation was explosive as they burned in flames of lust, remaining as nothing but blackened ash by the time the fury of their inferno had settled.