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    Werewolf Dynasty: The Princess
    Werewolf Dynasty: The Princess
    Werewolf Dynasty: The Princess
    Ebook208 pages3 hours

    Werewolf Dynasty: The Princess

    By Aaron Pery

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    About this ebook

    The werewolves, on the other hand, act as the protectors of mankind by constantly battling the Fae and forcefully preventing them from causing harm to the innocent population who fear the werewolves rather than the Fae. As a result of their conflicting goals, the werewolves and the Fae are forever engaged in a war to exterminate each other.
    This narrative chronicles the story of the Myklos family, the werewolves who have been fighting the Fae for eight millenia and are now on the verge of winning the final battle

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAaron Pery
    Release dateAug 26, 2013
    ISBN9781301814787
    Werewolf Dynasty: The Princess
    Author

    Aaron Pery

    As most authors might claim, I was always been a natural storyteller and voracious book reader. Somehow, I also knew that some day I would sit down and write a book, which I did quite recently.When I finally sat in front of my computer monitor to do just that, the words literally came pouring out. Before very long, I had written many books in various genres.At first, my prolific writing was mainly for the pleasure and self-entertainment involved, until I discocered Smashwords and ebooks, and here I am, a published author with a long list of books to my credit. And many more to come.

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      Book preview

      Werewolf Dynasty - Aaron Pery

      Werewolf Dynasty – The Princess

      Aaron Pery

      Smashwords eBook Edition

      All Rights Reserved

      Copyright 2013 by Aaron Pery

      License Notes:

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or if it was not purchased for your use only, please return to Smaswords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

      Note: This work contains material of explicit sexual nature that is only suitable for those over the age of 18.

      Werewolf Dynasty – The Princess

      Chapter One

      Andre, the only son of Matthew and Hilda Michaels, was sitting in his room in the mountain-top family extravagant home near Big Bear Lake in California that he had never known existed until that morning, utterly confused by his father’s visit which had ended a moment earlier. At age twenty-one, Andre had been a pretty normal young man who had not been aware of his family’s great wealth until today since he had always lived with his parents in a modest home in West Los Angeles on the border of Beverly Hills. Also, had gone to public schools all his life and then to UCLA while undergoing all the normal middle-class teenage trials and tribulations that all his neighborhood’s children went through.

      And now he just found out that not everything about his previous life had been true, not even his name since he was informed that his true name is Andreas Myklos and that his father’s first name is Mattas. Not only that, but that his forefathers had been important Hungarian noble tribal chieftains who could trace their family roots all the way to the sixth century BCE when the Magyar tribes had settled in present day Hungary after being defeated by the Roman army. According to his father, the entire family, or the tribe as he called it, had escaped from Europe after most of their lands had been taken from them first by the Ottomans who had been their mortal enemy for generations, and then by the Christians. The reason for the fear and hatred for them was because they were called Djins by the Moslems and their predecessors, and Devils by the Pagans and later by the Christians.

      Up to that point everything that his father had told him made little sense to him but mentioning the word djin brought up the memory of a lecture that he had attended recently, about the old Hebrew and Christian beliefs in the Middle East and Southern Europe, and he wondered what his father was talking about.

      I thought, Dad, that djins were considered mythical spawns of the devil rather than living creatures, and not a warrior tribe.

      I’m glad you know about that because I guess you weren’t asleep when you were taught this subject, like most kids your age tend to do.

      Most of them did, but I’d found the subject fascinating for some reason. Which was why I’d looked into it later.

      That’s good because it’ll greatly help me in telling what I’m about to relate to you. The first thing that you need to understand is that the word djin bears the connotation of BAD in capital words, which was why the people throughout the region on the European side of the Bosporus had applied it to all real nasty creatures. Now, let’s forget for a moment about that region’s lore and move in a western and northern direction to the United Kingdom and Europe, any idea what their djins are called?

      Yes, of course, there were Fairies for the nice guys, and Fae or Hobgoblins for the nasty ones. But isn’t it all a bunch of bunk, Dad?

      It isn’t, because no matter what you call them they have existed from day immemorial, and were our people’s worst enemies ever since.

      Oh come on, Dad, really? Andre asked with a slight smile on his face. Then why doesn’t anyone know about these Djin’s existence? Or if they are so secret, why is it that only you know about them and I don’t?

      Your Mom knows about it, and you will as well tonight, on your twenty first birthday when in our tradition you become an adult. And before you try to squeeze any answer or anything else, let me tell you emphatically that you’ll get nothing else from me right now. Just show up at the main hall at exactly eight o’clock and wear the clothes that I’d brought for you.

      Andre wanted to argue with his father but didn’t dare to, so he kept quiet and waited for him to leave the room before picking up the clothes that he was supposed to put on.

      His special clothes were amazing both in their strangeness, seemingly ancient style, quality of their materials, and the fact that even without any experience in such matters Andre was able to determine that they had been embroidered by hand. The shirt, made of the softest silk he had ever touched looked much like a tuxedo type as its front was heavily ruffled as were the collar and sleeves bottoms, which were embroidered all over with gold thread of strange designs that resembled flowers and animals that he could not identify.

      The pants, which fit quite tightly, were made of thin extremely pliable tan leather with a belt that was attached and tied just above his navel. The jacket, of the same material and stitched with similar designs as his shirt except that the threads were blue, was styled more like a vest with front panels that were round rather than straight and was closed with a thin leather braided string attached to each side. The final part of the strange outfit were a pair of ankle-high soft boots of the same kind of leather with a wide band folded on top that was embroidered with yellow galloping horses and their riders.

      Andre was standing in front of the mirror looking at himself wearing this outlandish outfit when he heard a soft knock on the door and turned around to see his mother entering, wearing a feminine version of his own clothes and looking magnificent as far as he was concerned. He smiled very happily at her and realized for the first time in his life that his mother Hilda was not just a beautiful woman but that she was the sexiest woman he had ever seen, which embarrassed him to no end to think thusly of her. But, he had to admit to himself, she truly was that at a little over six feet tall with a figure that was a perfect hourglass, a beautiful exotic face, and wearing her golden blond hair in a thick long braid thrown over her left shoulder to accentuate her ample bosom.

      Hilda stopped in the middle of the room and looked her son over in utter disbelief. Is that really you, Andy? Oh, of course it is, but for a moment there I thought you were my Mattas at your age because you look exactly like him except for your red hair while his is blond. She rushed over and hugged, then kissed him first on one cheek and then the other with great emotion.

      Do I really look like Dad used to, Mom? Andre asked when they separated.

      Like two peas in a pod, Andy--tall, wide shouldered, and extremely handsome. Yes, definitely so except that you’re quite a bit younger, of course. And wearing the tribal attire of a noble of our people makes you look exactly like Matta did. Heck, he still does.

      The pleased smile on Andre’s face dropped suddenly. What is this all about, Mom? This Citadel that looks like it belongs in the Carpathian Mountains in East Europe, the strange outfits, even our names and us being a tribe, none of which I was ever aware of until now. And why the mystery that surrounds it all? This is California, you know, in the twenty-first century rather than Rumania in the eighteenth.

      Bite your tongue, son, Hilda said with a chuckle. When you call us Rumanians, because we are of the Magyar, or Hungarian nation, and belong to the Myklos tribe of which your father is their Hetman, just as had been all of his forefathers for thousands of years.

      Jesus, Mom, all that I know of us is being a kid from Los Angeles, and now you and Dad had turned things upside down on me by telling me that I’m the progeny of some Hungarian nomadic tribe’s kings or whatever they were, who had settled in present day Hungary centuries ago? That’s nuts.

      Not really because you were what you had thought you were; until this morning that is, when you reached your twenty-first birthday and ceased being just a regular teenager because at this age you are considered among our people to have reached your majority. And as such you must take your rightful place in the tribe’s hierarchy as Prince Andreas Myklos, son of Hetman Matta.

      And forsake everything that I’d been until this morning, including my friends and environment, even my old hot-rod?

      No, Darling, not at all, Hilda chuckled. Because barring any unforeseen disaster, once you receive your rights as Prince Andreas from the council of your tribal elders you’ll return to your previous life as a junior at UCLA, keep driving your jalopy, and continue seeing all your friends as much as you’ll want to. It’s just that you’ll know who you really are in addition to some other important factors that are the basics of being who you are.

      Such as?

      Very exciting things, Andy, which I can’t tell you about. You’ll find out about all the rest shortly because it’s about time for me to take you over to meet with the council.

      Why can’t you tell me?

      Because I’d already told you everything that I’m permitted to tell. The rest of it is part of the council’s purview to tell and bestow upon you.

      Wow, Mom, I can’t believe I heard you right in saying that there’s anything that’s outside your control in our family.

      Don’t be a brazen upstart, you young whelp. Seriously, tradition is that we all have a definite part to play that’s specific to our posture, which we guard jealously and would not cross under any circumstance. So just accept it and don’t make fun of your poor old mother.

      Andre burst into laughter. Somehow I just can’t associate the words poor and old with you, Ma’am.

      That was just a manner of speech, Andy. Now I better take you to the council meeting.

      The route to the council room was long and circuitous. In his excitement upon arrival at this unusual medieval Citadel in the heart of Southern California, Andre hadn’t noticed much of its interior because of its outward appearance in the midst of the snow-covered hills of Bear Lake while a snow storm had been blowing ever since their car reached above the 3,200 mark. He hadn’t been surprised at the bad weather since it was raining heavily all around Los Angeles, and once they reached San Bernardino and began climbing the mountains it had turned into a blowing gale.

      On first sight the castle, no Citadel actually he corrected himself, seemed so out of place here with its turrets and arrow slits that Andre barely paid much attention to details as they entered its inner courtyard and his father hurried them behind the servants carrying their luggage until they reached their connecting rooms. His room, too, seemed like it was taken out of an old Hollywood movie about medieval Europe as it was huge and contained a curtained large four-poster bed, an enormous fireplace with blazing logs, tapestries covered walls, and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the snow-covered wooded valley below.

      Now, as his mother hurried him along never-ending corridors, Andre felt the bone-penetrating chill for the first time and chuckled aloud. When Hilda looked for an explanation, he chuckled again and told her about his first impression of the Citadel and how much it resembled a Hollywood idea of what such a place would and should look like.

      She gave him an amused look. Hollywood? I’ll have you know, Andy, that this is the actual ancestral home of the Myklos Hetmans that was built atop Mount Zaddor about two-thousand years ago. It was dismantled one stone at a time three-hundred years ago and shipped over to Long Beach port and from there to this spot where it was rebuilt to serve as our tribe’s headquarters again and was finished a hundred years ago, looking as majestic as it had ever looked over the Magyar lands.

      Wow, that’s something. How many acres do we lord over nowadays?

      About a million acres of mostly wooded land on the side of the mountains that tourists never see. As to our tribe’s people, who no longer are our vassals, they live all around the San Bernardino County area all the way east to Palm Springs itself, mostly in properties on or adjacent to rich woodlands.

      So they no longer pay tribute to the Myklos family?

      Come on, silly, we live in the twenty-first century so there is no such thing as tribute. They do pay us rent, though, on which we subsist amply.

      God Almighty, Mom, are you saying that we own half or more of San Bernardino County?

      That would be impossible, Andy, because it’s the largest county in the United States in that it sits on 20,000 square miles and only has a population of two-million because it contains mostly deserts and steep high mountains. Which is how we like it and why your great grandfather chose this area as his tribe’s new home away from the ignorant and superstitious European peasants, who hadn’t changed much since the old days when they used to persecute and kill us because of who we are.

      You mean like the Jews, because our people had never converted to Christianity?

      For that and many other factors, not the least of which is that our children were always quite well educated and are still so even nowadays. And because we want to be left alone rather than be part of the masses.

      I wished you had told me all this and more before because it would’ve made me quite proud to be of the Tribe.

      That’s not allowed, Andy, because there is a lot more to who we are that can’t be told to anyone and no child can understand such a prohibition until he or she reaches age twenty-one, and sometimes never when they are incapable of understanding it. And when that happens, they’re gently and lovingly directed to move elsewhere.

      Jesus, you’re talking about internal racial cleansing.

      Very true, except that it’s done quite humanely and no one gets hurt. Oh, here we are so you better go in. And don’t feel bad about what I just told you, which you’ll understand the reason for once you go through the ceremony.

      Okay. Aren’t you going in with me, though?

      No, Andy. Like I said before, some things are in the elders’ domain and what’s about to happen to you is strictly their business. She knocked on the thick, ornate door and kissed him. Go in now and I’ll see you later.

      Chapter Two

      Andre gave her quickly receding figure a yearning look, knowing that his life will never be the same again, and sighed as he pushed the door open. The room he entered was huge and dark except for the blazing fireplace located at its end with walls, just as in his own room, that were covered with thick tapestries except that here each wall bore two gleaming crossed broadswords over which rested shields that were decorated with various menacing mythological creatures that seemed to snarl at the onlooker. Also, under each shield stood a full suite of armor, some astride a depiction of a horse and others standing upright with their broadswords held in a striking posture that looked almost lifelike and extremely intimidating.

      His father stood with his back the blazing fireplace dressed identically to Andre except that he had a big broadsword strapped to his hips on a belt that looked rather well used, and a shorter one on his other side that looked just as used as

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