Well, hello there! This isn't one of my first fictions, though it surely is my first one here! I really hope you like it, and you don't actually need to read the books to understand it much (since I summarized it) yet Christina Dodd would appreciate it if you bought them. They're really really good!
So, here I have this piece. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, except for Stephania and the grandchildren (except Aleksandr).
A thousand years ago, Konstantine Varinski had made a deal with the devil.
He sacrificed his mother and threw the four family holy icons to the four winds, in exchange of the great power to turn into a predator.
But not just any predator, no. A noble predator. A bird of prey, a wolf, a panther, a tiger. They were usually the ones the Varinskis transformed to when they reached the age.
Varinskis were only men. They were hired assassins -they killed, raped, kidnapped- and had everyone eating from their hands. From kings to useless people, they all knew who the Varinskis were, and quickly left when one approached them. They were feared.
The Varinskis were only men. They raped any woman they wished to rape, thus impregnating them. No woman wished to carry a savage animal -much less a Varinski- so once the baby was born, they left it outside the Varinski castle and rang a bell before quickly fleeing.
They raped whoever they wished to rape. Princesses, young women, foreigners. The devil had let them touch any woman but a Gypsy. No Varinski knew why, yet they accepted that one condition without a claim.
No Varinski ever doubted that condition. That was until Konstantine Varinski, a wolf, named after the first Varinski that made the deal, broke the condition.
Varinski men were only called Konstantine if and only if they were suited for that name. Rape and murder had to be their first nature. Killing, an instinct. Leadership, their lover.
No Varinski man had ever touched a Gypsy. They were too afraid of the devil, like little pups to a giant dog. Konstantine, who wasn't afraid of the Other, thought of it as nonsense.
He wanted a Gypsy. Not just any Gypsy, but the girl who could look into the future, who could see disasters and murders, chastity of any kind and rare discoveries with just a blink of an eye.
She was a Gypsy. She looked like a Gypsy. Dark hair, dark eyes, tan skin. He didn't care if she could grow a moustache and stay that same height that so infatuated him into fucking her and breaking her, because he just wanted to do exactly that.
Yet he had been wrong. The night when he had kidnapped her, he felt something from the pit of his stomach as he kissed her puckering lips.
No Varinski man had ever loved. They were assassins, idiots to the world of love and brute to marriage. They just knew intercourse to breed, to keep the name alive. Yet in the blink of an eye, Konstantine had found love.
Zorana. She was one different girl. She wasn't afraid of him. Instead of cowering in fear whenever he obliged her to do him something to eat, she threw a pan at him. A pan. A five foot tall woman, half his age, put him in place and taught him a lesson like how a beast master would do to a wild beast. And he would be lying if he said he didn't like that.
They fled Russia. Konstantine was the first Varinski to get married, and his family was angry.
The Romanies were, too.
Neither Konstantine's or Zorana's clans approved of their marriage and love, so they escaped.
They fled to the United States of America, to the New World. Konstantine was very clever on erasing clues to where they were and who were they now, Zorana always thought, but then with a smile, remembered he was a Varinski, a trained assassin who had to know how to cover his tracks.
He was a guilty Varinski. The sins he had committed before he changed his last name to Wilder will and would always haunt his soul until he died.
He had tortured people. He had raped. He had killed his own brother, Oleg, yet Zorana kept telling him that it had to be done.
And then Jasha came. A sweet, little baby with sparkling golden eyes and soft skin, just like his Zorana's. He was the one who reminded him he was a good man. And he was his pride; he became a wolf, just like him.
Rurik came almost a year after. Soft brown hair from birth, caramel eyes that sought his father and saw him like the greatest man alive. He was a pacifist, yet calculating and smart, a bird of prey, the hawk.
Adrik was a dumb cute boy; he had always been one. He always tripped and fell, and was, much to Konstantine's demise, naïve. He had an unstoppable thirst for knowledge, however, and his father knew he would be a noble man. A panther.
And just when Konstantine thought he wouldn't be happier, ten years later, his heart came. The first girl of the Varinski family in over a thousand years. She was so different from her brothers -blonde hair, pale skin, lovely eyes- and a true miracle. He named her Firebird, which was the Russian symbol for rebirth. She didn't morph into a predator, but that didn't matter to him. She was intelligent like Zorana, and a true woman.
Was the pact breaking? It was. Several nights after Firebird's birth, he stayed up very late at night trying to think and give a decent explanation as to why or how had a girl been born to a Varinski.
No Varinski man was ever allowed to have sex with a Gypsy. That old condition the Other had placed, long before Konstantine Wilder had ever been born. And there was his answer.
He was breaking the pact.
And the pact wasn't breaking with only Konstantine Wilder, but with Boris Varinski as well.
Boris was Oleg's son, out of many partners and many sons, he was his favorite. He had the eye of an eagle, the leadership of an alpha wolf, and the speed of a panther. He fought and won easily, and after Oleg was killed by Konstantine, he quickly rose to the place of the Varinski leader.
Boris Varinski had many children, all fierce like the animals they were, yet one had always stood out.
Gavrie Vadim, he remembered his son like the palm of his hand. A fierce wolf. Suitable for the role of the next leader. The last of the normal Varinskis.
The pact was breaking for him, too, and he was less than grateful for that. He had arthritis, to start off with. Varinskis never had such thing as arthritis. Then, one of his sons turned into a ferret. That stupid little thing with small, beady black eyes. Of course, he killed that rat before anyone knew. And after all the trouble, more abhorrences appeared. A kid without a finger, another limp, and one who turned into a snake. A snake -a goddamn reptile that killed by poison. A predator, yes, yet not a noble one.
And just to place the rotten cherry on the sour cream, Uncle Ivan had been possessed by the Other one.
Uncle Ivan Varinski wasn't old for the Varinski. He was around his early eighties, yet Varinskis didn't die until well in their hundredths. Yet he had lost his sight, as blind as a dead body was.
And Boris could still remember his words in his head. The pact was to break if they did not kill Konstantine, his bitch, and the whelps he called his sons.
He found that an easy job.
He was wrong.