The Lycan Society (The Flux Age Book 1) Read Online Free
Author: Steven J Shelley
descent into bestiality.
Florence had the ability to become a werewolf - an upright, bipedal humanoid with the physical characteristics of a dire wolf. Though she was imbued with all the feral instincts of that creature, she retained the ability to think and behave like Florence Underwood. It was the perfect marriage of complementary forces. The reason, logic and compassion of the human coupled with the passion, instinct and sheer tenacity of the beast.
Florence was an enhanced lycan. One of the few female lycans who could control her spirit beast and prevent it from taking over. Most female lycans became Mothers, respected commanders away from the field, because they couldn’t control their spirit beasts. In this way Florence liked to see herself as unique. Her pack sisters and brothers tended to regard her with suspicion. They had never fully accepted her into the fold.
There wasn’t a day that went by where Florence could just do her thing without being reminded she was a freak. She was the only enhanced female lycan in the New York Chapter of the Society. One female werewolf among thirty-eight aggressive males.
Thank the old gods for Mother Arena, who controlled the New York Chapter with an iron fist. She was everything a Mother should be - decisive, intelligent and, above all, compassionate when she needed to be. If it wasn’t for Mother Arena, Florence would never have gotten a chance to work as a field operative for the Lycan Society.
Her snarling breath visible in the frigid air, Florence leapt to the top of the rail and crouched. Her body rippled with energy. She felt powerful and radiant.
She saw her reflection on the opposite building. She was a charcoal-grey beast, lean and hungry. She noticed yet another pair of jeans had split during the shift. Shoes? She didn’t bother with shoes anymore. If humans found her eccentric then so be it. She was tired of replacing them every time she shifted. Max shifters, the ones that shifted completely into wolves, needed to find new clothes every time they shifted. She didn’t have it so bad.
In the reflection Florence’s sharp eyes could see the patch of bronze fur on her nose - the only evidence that she was a redhead in human form. Charcoal grey with a patch of bronze. Not the best looking werewolf going around, but fearsome. And that’s all that mattered.
Plotting a course in her mind, Florence bounded along the rail and leaped high into the air, soaring across the space between Zac’s building and the one to the north. She landed on a huge vent, denting the steel with her heavy paws. She kept running, building speed with every bound. She knew New York extremely well, anticipating a longer jump at the next block.
She took it at high speed, coursing some thirty yards to the next roof. Werewolves had heightened physical abilities. Running, leaping and super fast reflexes were all hallmarks of the enhanced lycan.
Florence knew from experience that none of the pedestrians in the busy street below would think twice about the grey, indistinct shape leaping across the rooftops. Most people didn’t even think to look up, and the ones that did would invariably come to the conclusion that feral cats in downtown New York had gotten big .
There was simply no rational space in the human mind for werewolves and other such ‘nonsense’. As long as Florence was relatively discreet and kept her distance from humans she would be safe from direct identification. The Lycan Society had been a secret society for centuries - Florence wasn’t about to change that through being sloppy.
She exalted in the sheer speed of her run over the New York rooftops. A little forward planning combined with her knowledge of the area allowed her to chart a mostly level course through the towering skyscrapers. The bitingly cold air invigorated her bleary mind and blasted away her hangover.
Before long the familiar renovated facade of Bellevue Hospital appeared further down First Avenue.
Florence had the ability to become a werewolf - an upright, bipedal humanoid with the physical characteristics of a dire wolf. Though she was imbued with all the feral instincts of that creature, she retained the ability to think and behave like Florence Underwood. It was the perfect marriage of complementary forces. The reason, logic and compassion of the human coupled with the passion, instinct and sheer tenacity of the beast.
Florence was an enhanced lycan. One of the few female lycans who could control her spirit beast and prevent it from taking over. Most female lycans became Mothers, respected commanders away from the field, because they couldn’t control their spirit beasts. In this way Florence liked to see herself as unique. Her pack sisters and brothers tended to regard her with suspicion. They had never fully accepted her into the fold.
There wasn’t a day that went by where Florence could just do her thing without being reminded she was a freak. She was the only enhanced female lycan in the New York Chapter of the Society. One female werewolf among thirty-eight aggressive males.
Thank the old gods for Mother Arena, who controlled the New York Chapter with an iron fist. She was everything a Mother should be - decisive, intelligent and, above all, compassionate when she needed to be. If it wasn’t for Mother Arena, Florence would never have gotten a chance to work as a field operative for the Lycan Society.
Her snarling breath visible in the frigid air, Florence leapt to the top of the rail and crouched. Her body rippled with energy. She felt powerful and radiant.
She saw her reflection on the opposite building. She was a charcoal-grey beast, lean and hungry. She noticed yet another pair of jeans had split during the shift. Shoes? She didn’t bother with shoes anymore. If humans found her eccentric then so be it. She was tired of replacing them every time she shifted. Max shifters, the ones that shifted completely into wolves, needed to find new clothes every time they shifted. She didn’t have it so bad.
In the reflection Florence’s sharp eyes could see the patch of bronze fur on her nose - the only evidence that she was a redhead in human form. Charcoal grey with a patch of bronze. Not the best looking werewolf going around, but fearsome. And that’s all that mattered.
Plotting a course in her mind, Florence bounded along the rail and leaped high into the air, soaring across the space between Zac’s building and the one to the north. She landed on a huge vent, denting the steel with her heavy paws. She kept running, building speed with every bound. She knew New York extremely well, anticipating a longer jump at the next block.
She took it at high speed, coursing some thirty yards to the next roof. Werewolves had heightened physical abilities. Running, leaping and super fast reflexes were all hallmarks of the enhanced lycan.
Florence knew from experience that none of the pedestrians in the busy street below would think twice about the grey, indistinct shape leaping across the rooftops. Most people didn’t even think to look up, and the ones that did would invariably come to the conclusion that feral cats in downtown New York had gotten big .
There was simply no rational space in the human mind for werewolves and other such ‘nonsense’. As long as Florence was relatively discreet and kept her distance from humans she would be safe from direct identification. The Lycan Society had been a secret society for centuries - Florence wasn’t about to change that through being sloppy.
She exalted in the sheer speed of her run over the New York rooftops. A little forward planning combined with her knowledge of the area allowed her to chart a mostly level course through the towering skyscrapers. The bitingly cold air invigorated her bleary mind and blasted away her hangover.
Before long the familiar renovated facade of Bellevue Hospital appeared further down First Avenue.
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