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Being a werewolf means my life is never going to be normal.
But what is normal anyway?
Everyone is brought up differently, has different blood, hair color, looks, thoughts on fashion. It’s all about the differences life and how you choose to deal with them, really, that makes it your life as such and therefore, makes you also. So how’s that all that different to going fury once a month?
So being called a brat shouldn’t hurt me. Shouldn’t matter. Let’s face it, there are worse names to be called, ruder names to be called and worse connotations to be associated with me than Brat. Really when you look at it like that, the tag of brat is lame, pathetic even.
Yet out of the dirty looks, suspicious looks I now get whenever I’m around the Manhattan Maen pack, it’s the word brat that is the one my ears prick up and hear the most, the one that I pay attention to and the one that upsets me. It’s their name for me, the one they use behind and in front of my back.
Gabby might have been the bitch, but I’m the brat.
Werewolves, we bring the pet in petty. Fucking werewolves and their egos.
If my little showdown with Gabby Colton in December was good for anything, other than my own assertion of strength, it seems to have had a rather, rousing, positive affect on the Manhattan Maen wolves. Not towards me. But on them. They seem more together now. More motivated to act as a pack rather than individual werewolves, just lumped together under the title of pack because they live in the borough of Manhattan.
Who knew Gabby was so highly liked? Certainly not me. I never saw it before from these wolves that now whisper and murmur amongst themselves deliberately around me, whenever I’m around. Brat. Maybe they never really liked her all that much. But then there was the ultimate bitch fight come back in December, courtesy of me.
Probably they just didn’t like looking at what I did to her, and what could happen to them too, if they try to hurt me, like Gabby did. I suspect I made Gabby popular because what werewolf likes being stabbed with knives and sai’s of silver?
I didn’t and she didn’t either.
Still, the exclusion I might have felt before from the Manhattan Maen wolves, merely because I’m from the Breukelen pack, and dating their leader, was slight compared to what it’s like now. Now it’s cold and I’m “the brat” to them. Paris assures me it’ll die down eventually and return to normal, but I’m not so sure. Even Bohm avoids talking to me and looking at me directly. Bohm, who once told me he’d do anything for me, any time required. Not sure that offer still stands from the beta wolf. The lowered eye line at me, that kind of thing used to represent a form of respect in acknowledging a heir ranking, respected werewolf in the hierarchy of the pack. But that’s not what it means with Bohm. It’s shame, it’s anger, it’s disgust, it’s confusion. It’s me through his eyes now. It’s cause of what I did.
It’s one of the multiple reason’s I’ve avoided spending much time in Manhattan at present. But not the only one.
“I missed you.” Paris kissed my lips, we laid naked on his bed.
“Three days apart and you’re crazy with the missing.” I muttered back at him smiling broadly. His mouth trailed down my body as his hands skimmed over me, softly.
“I missed your scent lingering around my house, on these sheets.” His tongue ran a trail down my cleavage.
“I missed the warmth of you in my arms, against my body when I wake up.” His hands rest on my hips as his mouth descended lower over me. “I missed hearing your laughter around me.” Little kisses peppered the way down my skin, his thumb absently stroking the scar on my hip. The one Gabby left with me. “I missed seeing you walk naked from my shower. Covered in water droplets.” His lips kept moving slowly causing me to sigh with pleasure at the stirring inside of me, because of him and his words.
“I missed the sound of your voice, when I’m immersed in werewolf politics and reasoning it carries. The smart stuff it says that always gets my attention.” He said as his mouth reached my navel.
“I missed you too.” I said back at him with a wry smile.
“What did you miss the most?” He asked looking back up at me. “Fingers, lips, mouth or body? Or was it all about intellectual stimulation?”
There was a big smile.
He continued on his journey down my body. Familiarizing himself with the feel of us together. Of the space that we create that is just us, when the rest of werewolf world drops away again and there’s not brats, bitches or bastards. No Alpha and Beta wolves jostling for positions, there’s just us.
“Welcome back.”
Tags: beta wolf, Bohm, Gabby, Manhattan Maen, Paris, petty, Welcome back, werewolves politics
Zine #5
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What happens to a werewolf on a lunar eclipse?
Download Zine 5 to find out.
Get the message?
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Welcome to Werewolf world. Don’t fuck with me.
Zine 5 is coming!
What BG did next
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Thunderdome. Two werewolves enter, one werewolf leaves.
Zine 5 is coming!
Reclaiming the crown
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“I always thought you were the one who was the trouble maker in this family.” I smile at my sister.
We’ve been spending a lot of time together lately, Bodil and I. All because I got stabbed, kidnapped and silvered. Not exactly an average day for a werewolf like me. No, I’m a modern day werewolf. I live in a city, in a neighborhood amongst humans. I can to an extent, control my shape shifting, and werewolf tendencies. I’ve learned how to live with what I am. As most werewolves of today have.
And yet, there’s still things not for today, things of old, that still make me a werewolf. Like those of lineages past. In a basic sense, we’re still all the same. I still have to contend with silver affecting me, and I still have deal with pack politics, and pack hierarchy and how that, affects, rules, ruins, interferes, whatever you want to call it, my life.
Family, who are hierarchy in the pack I come from. Family, can’t live with them, can’t shoot them either. Especially considering my family, is the leading pack family of the Breukelen wolves. The leading pack Alpha comes from my family.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my family and my sister Bodil. But when something like this whole “Gabby incident” happens to one of us, to me in particular, since you know, it has, she falls into werewolf mode with a natural elegance that makes you see how some people are meant to be warriors. It shows me, again that this is the Alpha in her, taking over, and she’s less my sister than she is the Alpha werewolf that helps hold this pack together, by doing her duty to it as a werewolf.
She grins back at me. Brown eyes twinkling. “Everybody says that. Guess I manage to take the attention away from you by running interference with my own troubles, so often huh?”
We both laugh. We’re the only two girls in a family of five siblings. And now that I think about it, I’d say us girls are more trouble than the males of this family, at any given time.
There’s usually more focus on Bodil though and whatever her troubles and run ins are. Because she’s an Alpha werewolf. Basically, in the werewolf structure, an Alpha’s more involved, more important, more everything, because they’re an Alpha werewolf. They’re like the rockstars of werewolves, if you will.
“Not this time.” I sigh.
“Yeah, this time, you’ve really gone all out to reclaim the crown of problem child in this family, haven’t you?” She says looking across at me.
I see my sister looking at me with concern, my big sister. But I hear the words of an Alpha werewolf who’s on duty. Trying to figure out how to deal with an inter-pack mess without having to go to the worst possible case scenario. And I can hear, it in her voice, that she’s failing to come up with an answer for how to deal with this, that will suit all concerned.
“I’m a problem child? Because I decided to date a werewolf from another pack? Please, there are bigger problems in the world than this. You’re capable of handling bigger problems than this. I’m capable of making bigger problems, than this.”
“Don’t know if you noticed but the world you and I live in, is surrounded by werewolves. That dating part, isn’t really the problem.” She states, leaning forward, her arms on her legs as she sits on the edge of the coffee table, looking back at me.
I’ve known this all along. She knows this. The problem is Pack. Who’s pack has the right here. There are reputations to be maintained. And it doesn’t just boil down to, I got into a girl fight with some bitch and she whipped me. If I were just human, that might be the case. But in werewolf world, the implications are far greater than that. Especially when you’re a pack werewolf.
What you do as an individual, reflects back onto the pack you come from. Even more so on me, because I’m from the leading pack family. Which means, the whole Gabby incident, can’t be ignored and swept under the rug. It can’t be seen to be okay that she stabbed me and got away with it. It can’t be seen, that I’m taking the higher ground here, and letting bygones be bygones.
Because that’s not how werewolves think. That’s human talk. And if I were to just let sleeping dogs lie, over this matter, and word got out to other packs about the lack of action taken against Gabby. My pack, the Breukelen would be seen as an easy target. My family, pack leader, as weak.
Weakness in werewolf world, usually leaves an opening for the power hungry wolves, to come stomping in, and taking over your territory, your pack, your life. It has been known to happen before. As yet, and to the best of my knowledge not to any of the New York packs. The Breukelen don’t want to be the first to open that flood gate either, I don’t want to be my pack’s undoing.
Bodil’s not the only one who’s been doing a lot of thinking about this. It’s just she’s the only one of the two of us, who’s be sanctioned to solve the issue by means necessary of the pack. Even though I’m the wolf at the centre of the problem.
I’m the one who should be able to call the shots, on what comes next. On how to deal with Gabby. It’s not that nobody’s been listening to me. It’s more that, nobody’s asked me.
It’s more that the werewolves involved seemed to have forgotten, that being a beta wolf, doesn’t mean I’m not capable of solving this problem. They seem to think, because I’m not an Alpha werewolf that my mindset isn’t as capable of strategizing like there’s or as being as devious as Gabby’s. Maybe they just don’t want me to be. But this is a problem, that won’t go away. Because neither Gabby or I will back down from it. Not now.
I look back at my sister. Swing my legs down off the sofa and sit, facing her.
“I have a plan.”
Pack
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“Well, now, this is cosy, isn’t it?” I mutter looking back at my sister Bodil. In a club and instead of relaxing and enjoying my night out with my packmate, I’m sitting there stiffly feeling like I have to be on my best behavior.
Bodil just returns the blank stare of someone who doesn’t give a shit, and won’t be baited easily, especially by a younger sibling. Even if I am only like three years younger than her. Like she has more patience than I’ll ever gain. She picks up a shot glass and downs it in one fluid motion.
I sigh loudly and look around us, even as Paris remains quiet, by my side, arm around my shoulders.
We’re being chaperoned. Me and Paris.
Yeah, this whole Gabby got a good shot in on me thing, is like a never ending issue of contention for my pack and how they view Paris and me. Our relationship. I hear there’s debate on whether I should be allowed to continue dating him. Well fuck that shit! I just think my super sister is super pissed, with concern about what happened to me and may have been getting in the Breukelen Alpha’s ear about it.
Part of me get’s it. She’s just being a big sister, looking out for me. Like she’d look out for anyone in our family. But no one’s come up with any real plan for how to deal with Gabby. So far it’s just consisted of keeping a look out for Gabby entering either territory of the Breukelen or the Manhattan Maen. All these wolves seem think similar, that if anything, she’s likely to come back after me.
To finish me off, as they haven’t said out loud to me.
I asked Paris why all the Alpha’s think that’s her only course of action with me. His answer was rather grim.
He said “Because, she’s an Alpha and well, if we view someone as an enemy and we get into something like this with them, we want to be the one to finish the fight off. It’s about pride as much as it is conquering and winning. And in Gabby’s case, she knows she has a big advantage over you, she’s not likely to ignore that if it means she can get what she wants, her revenge.”
Of course, I hadn’t really expected a more uplifting and positive response to the question. Especially since it concerns Gabby.
And I get it, for her, it’s either going to be about getting closure on the matter of me or it’s going to be about her triumphing completing, in whatever manner suits her best. Which could include my death at her paws. It’s hard to say, but the werewolf within most of us, pushes for it’s natural wants to be sated all the time and whilst I’m no Alpha werewolf, I gather, from what I know of them, that they’re werewolf selves, have deeper, darker, secrets and desires that us regular beta wolves do not need to think about contending with. So maybe the hunt and kill thing, is greater in them, hence why everyone thinks, Gabby will come back at me again. Because part of her, the true part of her, won’t let this thing between us slide. She won’t ever be happy until I’m dead.
Every Alpha wolf I’ve asked, Nick, Bodil, Paris, Wiatt, Addison, Booker, Aksel, about what I should expect from Gabby or what they think she’s going to do, has said the same thing basically.
It’s her against me, that much is certain.
Alpha werewolf, against a Beta werewolf, who’s got a pack as an army behind her.
That’s about a fair a fight as it gets.
I look back over at Bodil, who’s watching the movement in the club. Her eyes scanning it, looking for threats, irregular movements to the flow of atmosphere in there.
Yeah, it’d be about as fair a fight as I could make it, if they’d let me fight her.
But they won’t.
I know that. I can see it on Bodil’s face, I see it in Paris’s expression. I see it when the Breukelen hierarchy and the Manhattan Maen try to negotiate the best way to deal with Gabby and to handle me.
It’s a pack situation, now.
But who’s?
The Girl
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When I come to, I’m alone.
Paris’s scent lingers lightly against the covers of my bed. I inhale it.
The sound of voices rising, catches my attention. Scratching my head, I get up and look for something to tie my hair back with.
Moving my neck from side to side, out of habit more than anything else. I kind of like to test the theory that I’m always good after a shape shift. Doing little body checks on myself. I stretch my arms above my head and look around my room. Dropping my arms back down heavily.
The door’s closed and the voices although muted can still be heard clearly. It’s definetly people arguing. I look for clothes and slip into a pair of jeans and over-sized t-shirt that hangs off my shoulder slightly.
Tying my hair back into a quick pony tail before glancing at the clock on the dresser drawer. I didn’t hold form for all that long. Well, as long as I would normally judging by the time on the clock. Not that means anything. Or it might. Guess it’s hard to say based on one shape shift.
Could be my wolf not used to doing shape shifts by herself. She could’ve got used to being around Paris when he’s in wolf form, or even human form. Sometimes, our werewolves get conditioned like that. They fall into routine and they adjust to routine. Then you change it up and elements of it, change the shift, the body’s physiological response to environment, circumstance.
I head out of my room and into the house. The voices are clear and louder. It’s my sister Bodil and Paris. That can’t be good.
What the hell happened to Booker making sure Paris left before Bodil found out he’d been here? I’d ask the Lycan myself, but I have no idea where he is. Hmmm.
I keep heading towards the angry voices. Down the hallway, towards the sitting room, I pad down barefoot. I can see the thick wooden double doors are closed. But that’s where their coming from. I’m hungry, usually am after a shape shift, but I want to know what the hell is going on, so I ignore the hunger pains.
“You put her in danger!” Bodil yells at him. “She’s supposed to be going to Manhattan to party and have a good time, not to get stabbed with silver in your territory. She’s not going back there.”
I stand before the closed doors, listening.
“She’s not safe with you. You’ve proven that. You’re dangerous.” Bodil’s voice, still angry but not shouting.
“Bodil, it’s never ever going to happen again.”
Paris starts off politely as could be.
“The point is, Paris, it’s already happened and it shouldn’t have. You were supposed to be looking after her, as her boyfriend, as her guide through your fucking territory, as a fucking pack leader. You failed her. You failed the Breukelen by allowing this to happen to her! Why the hell would the Breukelen let you date one of our own, when you failed her so badly?”
My eyes widen at this news. I don’t exactly need permission to date anyone. It’s a wee bit complicated when it’s a different pack werewolf, but I still don’t have to get permission.
I am my own person. I always have been, much like my very angry and concerned for me, sister. We were always raised to be ourselves in our family. And as a result, there are a fair few strong personalities in our family. Guess it shouldn’t be so surprising coming from a Leading Pack family.
But my father, the pack Alpha, my sister, family, whatever, have never had to weigh in on my dating habits. No one, but me, has ever had a say in what I do.
I may be a pack werewolf, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make my own decisions and live by them. Doesn’t mean I can’t choose for myself, who I date. Doesn’t mean I’m going to let my sister or anyone else for that matter, dictate to me, how to run my life and who I’m allowed to see.
My hands are on the doors when Paris starts back at her.
“She’s no safer here. You think you’re guys are going to shadow her around for forever? What about the threats she faces over here in Brooklyn?”
“What threats?” Bodil asks him.
“Come on, you know how much Conall Wakely despises us being together. How much of a hard time he creates for her, every time she’s over here, when she tries to go to pack parties. How’s that any different to her being in my territory with me, and having to face a werewolf that doesn’t like her?”
“Well, let me think about this for a minute. Could it be, that she hasn’t gotten stabbed or poisoned with silver when she’s been in Breukelen territory, like ever. Around Breukelen wolves? But since she started dating you, she’s has? Yeah, that might be it.” Bodil fires at him full of sarcasm.
“Bodil, you can’t protect her forever. The world has people, wolves in it. Things happen everywhere. No matter where you are. You can’t hide her from life, and you can’t follow her around shadowing her.”
I guess it can’t be helped, if your the little sister. This is how you get thought of, even when you’re an adult. That I need protecting. Hello, I have life skills!
“Oh please, don’t you dare think you can lecture me on protecting my sister! You knew this Gabby wolf hated her. And yet you regularly saw their interactions get worse and worse and you did nothing! You let her get into fights!”
“I let her handle her own fights. If I didn’t think she could handle Gabby, I would’ve stepped in. She can handle Gabby.”
“Oh please, the girl is no fighter. She’s not like you and me Paris. She’s no Alpha.”
It’s true, in terms of werewolf fighting, my skills are fairly average. But if I was fighting a human, well, I’d look like some sort of prized champion by comparison, really. I find myself leaning closer to the closed door and turning my ear towards it, even though, there’s no need. I can hear perfectly what they’re saying about me. What they’re not saying about me. I lean forward on the doors and push them open so both Bodil and Paris turn to look at me as I walk in, pushing the doors aside.
“I’m a werewolf through and through, and that’s a danger in itself, whether your a human or wolf. And that’s all I need to be. So back the fuck down, both of you.”
Bodil’s eyebrows shoot up as her eyes widen. Paris looks back at me and smiles broadly.
Tags: Bodil, dating, fall out, Gabby, identity, inter-pack relations, Paris, sense of self, sisters
Being Good
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Who’s brainy idea was it again to have me kept under protective guard on a lunar week, by hot looking wolves in Brooklyn?
Oh yeah, my over protective, well meaning sister, Bodil. That’s why I’m in a nightclub with Booker Parish, dancing like we’re in the streets of South America. New rules in my life to be adhered to until further notice, must have (hot) body guards by my side twenty four seven. Must be an Alpha werewolf or a fighter. Imitators and lesser wolves will not be excepted. Booker, next to my sister, is our best warrior wolf.
Sweating up a river, with our clothes sticking to our skin, like it’s a second layer of it. I haven’t been out in what feels like forever. I’m not used to being house bound. So I’m reveling in the chance to move, to interact, to be engulfed in heat, drowned in communal lust and want.
Lunar week and it’s all fun, fun, fun. Forget your troubles and dance your nights away, the werewolves have come out to play. Especially me. I haven’t heard from Paris since I asked him to take me home. Maybe he and the boys are doing a bit of pack policing, finding Gabby, or something. I don’t know and right now, I gotta say, I don’t care, about that, about Gabby or any of them Maen wolves.
Brooklyn is where it is at.
Heart beats are pumping steadily, as it trying to match the beats of the music coating us dancers in. I can’t believe I’m actually smiling as Booker sides up behind me, and I dance, my back against his front, my hips moving from side to side as my short white skirt, swishes around. My arms are raised in the air, as I look back over my shoulder at the large, solid wall of male Lycan wolf, behind me. His black t-shirt is clinging to his chest, defining it’s grooves and ridges for me.
I swear Booker’s grinning. Nice to see. That boy rarely smiles.
But I feel his smile, his assurance in my safety, with him, literally having my back. Booker might be one of my sister’s best friends and fighters, but he’s something else to me entirely.
Booker and I have history.
So who’s brainy idea was it again to have me kept under protective guard on a lunar week, by a hot looking Booker Parish in Brooklyn? Who cares.
I haven’t felt so liberated in days. Booker gets that, he gets me. I think he’s got more patience and time for me, than the other body guards assigned to their menial detail of protecting the youngest female werewolf from the leading Breukelen Alpha’s family.
My hair is thick with heat and sweat, and it’s hanging heavily down my neck as I gather it up and lift it off my neck, I feel him move slightly behind me and see him, lean forward I think it’s to blow cool air on the base of my neck. But instead he leans towards my ear.
“You want to get some fresh air?”
Do I?
Do I!
Problem is, if I literally go outside for “fresh air” and feel the night time and moonlight caress my skin. Then “do I wanna what”, is going to just jump me, like you wouldn’t believe. I’m one of those sadistic werewolves who likes to test themselves during lunar week, by playing little games with their own bodies desire, so that the end result, of getting what you want, is ten times better. Problem, I only play those sexy little mind and body fuck games with my pack mate. Like my absent packmate, Paris, a friend of Booker’s too.
“Nah, I’m good.” I reply still dancing and letting my heavy hair drop down out of my hands.
“Is that what you call this?” He murmurs with a chuckle, before straightening up. I turn around to face him, putting a little distance between us. “Being good?”
“What would you call it?” I grin at him, still dancing in my heels.
An eyebrow arches up and he smiles shaking his head. “To be continued.” He states looking past me and pointing out the appearance of Conall Wakely walking through Disco and Rhyme. Conall’s eyes scan the crowd, and land on me. His eyes flick over at Booker standing before me, now completely still and staring hard back at Conall. Booker and I are drenched in sweat. We look like we’ve been hosed down in water. Or come straight from a pool party or something. Are clothes are sticking to us like we’ve been swimming in them.
Others around us are peeling off layers of clothing, or near naked dancing around us. See, we are being good. Conall scowls at us and throws his arm around a pretty, petite wolf’s shoulders suddenly.
“Come on, let’s get a drink at the other bar.” I grab his hand and lead Booker off the dance floor as Conall and he continue to stare it out, as we head out to the outside bar. The furthest away from Conall and his entourage. I don’t want to think about him, at all. I don’t want this night ruined. Because it’s like being given a gift, after being cooped up at my family house for days on end in lock down mode.
Booker holds the door open for me as we step outside, and the cooler night air hits me instantly and I tilt my head up and grin at the moon, closing my eyes. My neck exposed underneath as my heavy hair, drops off my back and hangs behind me. I sigh softly. I’m welcome under the moon’s embrace.
“Being good, being good.” I hear Booker mutter behind me, as he holds the doorway open and I open my eyes again, glancing back at him, before we head over to the bar.
Tags: Booker Parish, Brooklyn, conall, Disco and Rhyme, Gabby, horny, lunar week, werewolves
You can’t deny the werewolf
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I feel caged. Even though I’m not.
Crowded I guess you could say.
I’m a werewolf, I’m used to being free. To roaming my way through life, without regard for fear, without hesitating, without being stopped.
Since revealing my knife wound’s scar to my sister Bodil, she’s pretty much started ruling my life. Yeah, I’m an adult and she’s an adult, a highly over protective one. She’s also a superior werewolf who’s like second in command of the Breukelen Pack. So whatever she enforces, gets done. No questions asked.
I’ve been made to stay at our family home, in Brooklyn. No contact with Paris allowed. No visiting him, no going to Manhattan. I kind of think I’m being punished even though I’m the one who got the raw end of the deal here, when she got stabbed by a Manhattan Maen Alpha werewolf.
I don’t really know what’s been decided for the fate of Gabby, the bitch who gutted me. But I am feeling the full brunt of over protectiveness from my family and pack. I haven’t had this kind of security detail since I was a teen and hunted by a lycan. After that, I couldn’t go anywhere withoutwarrior wolves around me for a good year. At the instance of my father, leading pack Alpha of the Breukelen. Now this. It’s like I’m a magnet for remnants of the scar tissue in my life to reoccur. I don’t mean physically, I mean circumstances and events.
I can’t even see my boyfriend, because well, he wasn’t around to stop me being stabbed. My sister sees that as a grievous mistake on his part. But I think my brother Aksel, has managed to convince Bodil, not to hurt Paris because of it. I think, but I’m not really sure. Since neither of them is letting me in on what is going on with the processes surrounding dealing with my attack.
I’ve been allocated protective body guards as they were. Bodil’s friends are doing round the clock security on me. Ensuring there’s always at least one Alpha werewolf or fighter wolf with me. Whether I’m at home or not. It’s crazy. I’ve told her as much. But Bodil insists its for the best until this can be resolved, especially since no one has seen or heard from Gabby, since she ditched my bleeding body, at the safe house for Paris to find me.
Anyway, maybe things will change this week. Since it’s lunar week. I can’t be expected to sit around the house on lunar week, going stir crazy because the moon is riding my body to distraction and I can’t get my paws on my boyfriend. Here’s hoping, anyway. The old familiar restlessness is creeping into me, only it’s worse now because of this cabin like fever from being over protected so greatly.
And that’s not a good thing either.
You can’t deny the werewolf within. You can try like hell, but it’s near impossible to do and it’s not wise to ignore what you’re body’s trying to tell you to do. Makes a werewolf go feral and that usually leads to bloodshed and rampaging through streets of ruin.
Nobody wants that.
Especially me, I’ve already shed enough blood.
Tags: fallout, Gabby, inter-pack relations, lunar week, overprotective, rammifications, restless, werewolves
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