Lycans and Werewolves, a lot of people who don’t know better would tell you they are one and the same. But in my world of werewolves and the paranormal that is our culture, I can tell you, the two are different.
Lycans are humans bitten by werewolves and werewolves are humans born with werewolf biology.
Well that’s the text book definition, the company line. Whatever you want to call it. But the two types of wolves are so far different than they look. Werewolves are all about control. Control of their abilities and emotions, these are the traits that allow them to blend into society and still be wolves.
Lycans on the other hand…Lycans are easy to anger and from what I know, can be highly, emotional. Like the human side can’t let them give in to that control they need to be a true wolf.
Booker Parish, is a lycan.
Bg Sommers, me, I’m a werewolf.
So imagine how my family and friends and by this I mean, the werewolf variety would act if they knew about me and Booker once being not only in love, but lovers. Shit might hit the fan. Especially since Booker is my sister’s friend.
Shit has already hit the fan for me, because my pack mate, Paris D’arenberg, uncovered my little secret about Booker and I. All Because I had a dream and mumbled his name in my sleep and then orgasm, all right before the eyes of my pack mate who was in bed beside me at the time. Woken by my throws of dream filled passion.
And now I find myself in a familiar situation.
I’m in the kitchen on top of the bench stop. Looking back at one, Booker Parish, who is three years older than me and taken. Like I’m taken. I have a pack mate, he has a girlfriend. Sure she’s a non, but it works for him I guess. He’s leaning back against the sink and resting his hands at the edge of it looking at me.
Only last time we were in a kitchen together and I was sitting like this, and he was standing opposite me, we ended up having sex. But that seems like it was a lifetime ago now and neither one of us is so naively young.
We’ve grown up, we’ve become wolves.
This is like a courting. We haven’t even spoken yet. If we don’t speak to one another soon, it’s going to get all too physical. Because that’s how easy it is to fall into this attraction thing I have with Booker Parish. We’re fine when we’re in a group setting, and there are plenty of people around us, to act as buffers and distractions. But alone time together, is a test. Most of the time.
I asked him over to my place in Red Hook cause we need to talk. Or should I say I do.
I need to put this thing to rest, to bed. Because I’m in a relationship with an alpha werewolf who does not play nice with others, when it comes to me. But I’m finding it hard to know how to begin without seeming foolish.
Maybe Booker doesn’t feel about me the way Paris seems to think he does.
I very deliberately wore jeans. I don’t really wear jeans all that often. But I I didn’t want my armour to be weak around this lycan. Didn’t want him to think I am dressing up for him. So I wore boots, jeans and even two tops, a long sleeved Raglan top and a t-shirt over that. Deliberately didn’t wear make-up and left my black hair down instead of doing anything with it. I don’t want to him to think I’m trying to court him in this dance around each other. Because that’s not my goal.
“He knows about us doesn’t he? Paris.” Booker says breaking our silence because something had to give. He pushes off the sink and moves steadily towards me.
“He knows about the past us.” I state back at Booker.
He sighs wistfully and keeps honing in on me. “I guess we couldn’t keep us a secret thing forever huh? Even though I hoped.” He says lowering his voice so it’s a almost a husky whisper.
I watch him come over and push my knees apart, standing between them, at the edge of the kitchen bench.
He slips a hand up the back of my neck and into my hair. I decide to ignore the fact that my pulse is racing and I’m not pushing him away. I didn’t call this meeting to reignite something, I called it to put it right.
“Don’t do it Book.” I state softly, eyeing his lips as I say the words.
I remember those lips, very well. That’s the problem with the werewolf brain, it’s sensory memory is incredible.
So are those lips.
“What? Hold you again?” He mutters softly inching closer. “I should never have pushed you away to begin with.”
Continued in A Wolf for the first time
Zine #2 has been relaunched as Lycan La Vida Loca on Smashwords it can be downloaded in Kindle, Sony E-Reader, KOBi, Epub, PDF etc… Yay!I
So if you’ve only just come across my blog and you have no idea who I am or who these men I talk about on it are. Lycan La Vida Loca will explain a bit of my personal history and into the complications of my love life.
Zine #1 has been relaunched as Of Wolf and Male on Smashwords.
This is great for all you E Readers! As it can be downloaded in Kindle, Sony E-Reader, KOBi, Epub, PDF etc… Yay!
I even did a new cover for the occasion.
So if you’ve only just come across my blog and you have no idea who I am or who these men I talk about on it are. Of Wolf and Male (Zine#1) is a good introduction into the complications of my love life.
Paris’s eyes were dark and drilling into me. His face was taunt, and looked strained. Dare I say it, but I of course, was the cause of his distress. He’d made me sit down atop a table at Addison’s house in Alphabet City, where they’d taken me, because it was closest to the area the lycan bitch and I had been caught fighting in. I had a tissue to my constantly bleeding blood nose and my head slightly tilted back, trying to stop the flow.
So there I was, sitting still, my scrapped knees dangling over a table top, keeping my mouth shut, saying nothing, and looking grim, and coated in blood, namely my own, waiting for my reprimand from my boyfriend the Manhattan Pack leader, like I was under police investigation.
But it wasn’t coming, the reprimand.
He was holding my right hand, gently and wiping the blood off the broken skin on and around my knuckles and hand. Every now and then his eyes would wander up and down my arms, silently counting, I think, all the scratch marks along them. They went right up my arms. Pink lines of varying degrees of depth, colour, scaring and blood. She’d cut through my top, shredded the long sleeves.
Not that it bothered me. Nothing about what I’d done bothered me. I was lucky I figured, but didn’t care for lucky, the corner of my bottom lip was torn, slightly away from my mouth. But none of my injuries mattered.
Getting back into the fight with that lycan, that mattered to me.I was going numb to the pain, because my anger was keeping me warm inside.
Paris being silent towards me, bothered me. A lot. Still, I refused to break the silence. I was in no mood for talking anyway. I could barely bring myself to look at the Alpha male behind Paris in the kitchen, pacing away – Addison. As far as I was concerned, he was completely at fault.
What fucking werewolf interferes in a fight that isn’t their own?
The werewolf Addison, that’s who.
There’s no real politics or ruling on this type of thing, jumping in on a regular wolf street fight. It’s just not…wise, or appreciated and I guess you could say, that in terms of the fight I’d started with the lycan bitch, it undermined me in front of her. Again.
What fucking werewolf likes to look like a weakling in front of other werewolves or more insultingly, a lycan?
Not me. I have pride, in bucket loads.
Hence the staunchly silence of my unspoken anger.
“Wanna talk to me?” Paris finally asked, as he squeezed the red coated washer out in the warm bowl of water beside my hand. My eyes flicked past him and glared at Addison who’d decided to stop pacing long enough to lean against the kitchen bench top. He folded his arms over his chest and stared straight back at me.
“I did you a favor, that lycan was going to pummel you into a new existence.” Addison fired at me before I broke eye contact.
“Addison, why don’t you leave us in private.” Paris said half turning his head towards his second in command. We both watched as Addison marched out of the kitchen area loudly and unhappily.
“Now, wanna tell me what happened?” Paris said taking up my left hand and starting to wipe it with the warm liquid.
“He was going to break both my ankles you know.” I muttered. Knowing I was acting childishly and not caring.
Paris stopped cleaning my hand wound then and looked at me in earnest seriousness.
“I’d never let him get away with doing that to you. But you must’ve pushed him to his limit, Addison isn’t one to threaten violence easily. Kingsley on the other hand…” Paris said referring to another one of the Alpha warriors in the Manhattan Maen hierarchy.
“I got into a fight.”
Paris sighed heavily and started wiping down my hand again, gently. “Believe it or not, I can see the evidence of that. Believe me, from what Addison told me of what he and Jules saw of the fight, you’re lucky they intervened when they did.”
“I was holding my own.”
“You’re covered in your own blood. That lycan has scarred you all over.” He went on.“You’re going to have to shape shift to heal all this. Pretty soon too, I would think, as soon as your nose stops bleeding.”
I pulled the bright red soaked tissue away from my nose. It was practically falling apart in my hands it was so damp.
“I need to find that lycan.”
“Not gonna happen.” Paris replied firmly. “Jules is still out there, tracking her down. We’re on it. You’re not going anywhere until you shape shift and recover.”
I sighed heavily back at him.
“Don’t make me make you.”
I guess it was the only warning I was going to get. Alpha werewolves can force another werewolf in or out of a shape shift mode, as well as kind of interfering with the wolf’s will, if you want to call it that. We call it influencing. And if I didn’t do it myself, then Paris would do it to me. Which doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a smooth ride. Especially when you’ve got fresh injuries, like mine. He didn’t even need to be in animal form to do it to me, if I understood correctly.
He put my hand back down and moved the bowl of water, which was now all watered red, not pick, away from us.
“Talk to me.” He pleaded, putting my head in his hand and turning it to face it.
“You ever been hunted?” I asked.
He dropped his hand and stood up straighter in front of me.
“Yeah, well, I never told you I was when I was fourteen and that bitch of a lycan your guys let get away from me, was the hunter responsible.” I replied sliding off the table top.
Paris looked wounded, pained and wounded. But my anger was just so much greater.
I pushed past him out of the room. Maybe I could get through a fast shape shift, fast enough to recover and get back on my feet again to find that lycan. Or maybe I’d just go out after her in werewolf form. That’d probably be my better shot.
How to explain to your boyfriend, that you’re out for the night, filling a vendetta?
Don’t bother. Because he’ll figure it out, anyway. Well, he will if he’s the leading pack Alpha of the Manhattan Maen werewolf pack and you, his girlfriend, are causing trouble in his territory.
If I’d been in my right mind, and not floating around in the obsession of getting payback on the female lycan hunter that has a rather personal history with me. Then I’d have realized, of course, that not much goes on in a werewolf’s territory, that doesn’t get noticed by some member of the pack.
Especially if the pack, like the Manhattan Maen is rather large in numbers. Of course it means, that some good little werewolf, is going to report a mad capped, ferocious werewolf versus lycan marathon through the streets of Manhattan to it’s hierarchy.
Especially when there is potential for human casualties to be involved and of course, a greater exposure to the law enforcement and human community to contend with.
I mean, twenty questions and more is just damn annoying.
Still, I was starting to bleed when Paris sent in the troops to find out what the hell was going on, after receiving a lot of weird phone calls about sightings about two women hell bent on destroying everything in their path as well, each other it seemed.
I didn’t get to do what I wanted with the lycan.
Because Addison and Jules, Paris’s tough guys caught up to me before I could.
Of course they would.
Alpha warriors who are the best at what they do, keep the peace on their side of the Hudson. You rarely hear about werewolf wars and werewolf fighting going on over here. Probably because Addison and Jules are great at great at fighting and of course, super strong.
They’re not the only ones Paris uses for such things, but they are his main guys. So when they saw when they came across me and miss lycan in a dead end alleyway circling each other and growling, they didn’t stop to ask questions.
I mean, a girl fight is pretty damn obvious. Especially since the lycan bitch had her fangs and her talon like finger nail claws out.
It all went down so fast. Like plunging headlong into an inescapable bad dream you know is going to swallow you up whole.
I was taking hits and landing two to her every four, then I hit the wall behind me.The boys just yanked me back out of the fight and jumped right in my place instead. Went head to head with the lycan.
To say I was ballistic would be an understatement in severity of my rage.
Which of course, was more than enough to scare the bejezus out of the lycan, well I’d like to think so. It was probably more to do with Addison and Jules tag teaming to keep me at bay and take hard hitting pot shots at her, that maybe, even she couldn’t really better.
Still she managed to high tailed it mightily fast out of there as Addison went for me, as I went to run after her and he yelled at Jules to go after the lycan.
Of course, that doesn’t mean I didn’t fight Addison. He may be my boyfriend’s right hand man in pack business and his best friend, but his timing and his concern for my welfare – sucked!
I thrashed like I was drowning in a rip-tide that was holding me in place. Nothing but energy and desperation, fuelled me as I struggled against him for a good ten minutes. Trying to get out of his one arm hold on me. I was like a paper weight to Addison, but even so, I kicked him in the shins, several times in a vain hope of release.
He phoned Paris to update him on what was going on. Although, I must’ve angered him at some point, because he did tell me, if I didn’t stop struggling he would break both my ankles. Regardless of who my boyfriend/his best friend was.
Of course I can recover from that, but the breaking bones part, it still hurts a hell of a lot and is inconvinent.
The brief gist of the covert conversation relayed to Paris went something like – the Manhattan Maen Alpha’s pack partner and girlfriend was going nuts at him over some unknown Lycan bitch who had evaded their capture, but that Jules was on it.
I stopped struggling and yelling at Addison after he finished the phone call, when he said to me
“Paris is on his way to see you.”
That statement alone, sounded like my fate was sealed. The tone of Addison’s voice didn’t sound like we were going to have the happiest of reunions.
On the bright side, at least my ankles are in tact.
You know what happens when you hold onto something emotionally for a long time, when you can’t let go?
Life goes on around you, and you become the only one that remembers why you’re holding it so tight.
The feeling of justification that you need becomes a lone thought through tunneled vision, with it being all you can see or what or need.
So when the lycan turned around suddenly abrupt, breaking stride on the sidewalk and swiveled to face me, it shouldn’t have surprised me, that she looked straight through me. Her eyes darting about in the street, sizing up all the pedestrians and foot traffic surrounding her.
She is after all, just a lycan.
At first she didn’t get it, straight away, that I’m the hunter this time. Because, I look unassuming amongst the other bodies around us. Of course, I was the only one who held her gaze, and I was the only one who kept holding it and advancing towards her steadily. I was giving myself away. But by this stage, I didn’t really care. My emotions drive me, and they had gotten the better of me, I’d let my anxiousness seep out and she’d felt it.
Knew there was someone there tracking her.
She looked back at me, tilted her chin up slightly, her head to the side and looked down her nose at me. Like I was something of insignificance to her. The same thing, I’d been when I was fourteen and trying to deal with my first shape shift and a pack of hunters, who turned out to be angry lycans, out for some pay back on the breed that made them what they had become, against their will. Didn’t matter that I wasn’t responsible for their turning. Didn’t matter that I didn’t know them, had never met them before in my life.
All that ever mattered was that I was a werewolf.
And I’d made the mistake of being in their line of sight, in their world.
She lifted her nose slightly and sniffed. I watched her eyes widen, ever so slightly as the recognition of werewolf scent registered with her.
The bitch actually smiled at me.
Can you believe that?
But still she remained calm, in control. I could barely hear her heart beating.
I guess she wondered if I might actually just walk past her, just be some werewolf aware of her presence there on the street, but nothing more. Well, if she guessed that she guessed wrong.
She stared me down as I got closer to her and her smile got wider, as her heart beat picked up a bit more.
Thump thump, thump thump, thump thump.
I think she’d figured out by then that I was coming, but she doesn’t know me.
It’s apparent on her face that I’m an interesting surprise development in her day.
But she doesn’t know what this is about.
She doesn’t remember.
And I can’t forget.
There is no mistaking my intended prey.
I would know that scent anywhere, and when the Lycan turned it’s head, giving me the perfect profile view of it’s face, everything inside me went wild and I wanted to scream and howl.
So you can take that as a confirmation of positive I.D.
But I clamped my mouth down tight. Fist my hands and forced myself to remain, calm.
The lycan tensed slightly and hesitated in step, but then clearly thought nothing further of it, and went along it’s merry little way.
The key to this is to remain calm. Because wolves, and lycans pick up on strong vibes, especially in close vicinity of one another. You can literally sense fear, feel an attack coming etc. It’s the animal side of us, it’s how it works. So if I let my emotions get the better of me than my element of surprise is gone, before I’ve even got close enough to reach out and touch my prey.
In a city filled with people, if the lycan hasn’t picked my trail then, it’s really, all the better for me. I want every advantage I can get. I intend to surprise, like a big bite of hindsight coming back for a haunting.
The problem with modern day hunting, in a city like New York is, you’re never really alone. So I’ve yet to figure out how to get the lycan alone. There’s also the problem of my cell phone, it keeps ringing.
I can ignore certain calls, and turn my phone to silent. But when Paris calls, I have to answer. That man takes persistence to a whole new level of achievement. Luckily or unluckily, depending on how you want to view it, my Prey lead me to a crowded area so I could answer my phone and seem inconspicuous. Just another New Yorker going about their business, in the hustle and bustle of daily life.
“Hey what’s up?” I greeted him with.
“I was wondering what you would like to do for dinner tonight, I can come and get you from..”
I smack my palm on my forehead. Paris knows my timetable. Shit. I’d gotten so absorbed in tracking the lycan through the city. I’d forgotten about pretty much everything else. Like eating and the rest of civilization.
How do I handle this?
This opportunity can not pass. Not now!
My eyes were still focused on the movement of the lycan, walking amongst the unsuspecting humans on the sidewalk.
Don’t you hate it when you know yourself so well that you just know, you will beat yourself up if you let this opportunity pass through your fingers?
And yet I know I’m going to hate myself just as much for the words that come out of my mouth.
“Can we do it another time? I’ve got something I’ve got to do tonight.”
The werewolf shape shifting doesn’t really kick in, till a wolf hits puberty. That’s not to say other wolf traits, don’t already exist before then, it’s just the shape shifting has to wait till the body can take it on, or some such, I was told.
So at fourteen years old, I didn’t really have a grasp on all that I could be, would be. I didn’t understand how it all worked.
I mean, it’s one thing to be told what it’s going to be like, or what you might expect to happen to you. But it’s another, to actually go through a shape shift.
My family had been taking me and some friends of mine out on these trips, away from the NYC ever since I was twelve. Readying all of us to go through the first real big changes in becoming a full gown werewolf.
Supposedly ‘going country’ for the initial shape shift, is supposed to ease the werewolf into being. You know, let them get the scent of open spaces, mountains and dirt and forests and other animals. That kind of thing. That’s how I ended up in Wisconsin and in the sights of the Lycan who would hunt me down for mere amusement.
The hunting party, my father and I would discover later on, had a regular little game for werewolves like me.
Once they’d managed to identify a werewolf, They would make it run through unfamiliar woods, that they themselves knew like the back of their hand. Wounding it repeatedly with silver coated buckshot. So they could take the intended target down. Then they would capture the injured werewolf. Always an inexperienced, young wolf, who would fall more easily then an older full grown werewolf. They would remove the buckshot, allowing the werewolf to shape shift back to human form. Then when they saw who their human form was, they would torture the victim again.
They had me for hours before my father caught up to the hunting party.
Apparently, in their warped world, that’s a new record.
Before the Breukelen Alpha came along, they’d never gotten caught in the act.
Ever wanted to turn the tables on someone?
Have a do-over on your terms? Well, I believe, if you ever get the second chance, you should take the shot.
Only I don’t use guns or weapons. I don’t need to.
I am a werewolf. Altijd.
I am the weapon.
When the scent of The Hunter came to me, it was like a burst of recoiling terror in the pit of my stomach. Made my insides clutch as my breath froze me. But this was quickly replaced by steely anger, that was so red hot, it burned me from the insides out. Had to remind myself, I’m not fourteen anymore and to breathe. Slowly.
This is my life. The Hunter just made a massive mistake in coming here. Re-entering my life.
I moved with stealth to fall in behind my prey.
The time had come to go hunting again.
This time, on my turf, and my terms.
This time, I’m the hunter.
My prey doesn’t have a clue, what it’s really up against.
Hasn’t a clue I’m coming for it.
Hasn’t a clue about me.
This isn’t about revenge.
It’s about a fair fight and righting the wrong done to me.
Revenge would be about pain, hurt, torture and leaving a constant reminder with my prey, forever. Although I’m pretty sure there’s going to be some form of hurt involved in this reunion. I haven’t figured it all out, because I’m almost too scared and excited at the same time to think to rationally.
But there’s no mistaking that scent of ash, hay and wet fur tinged with copper. That’s the hunter who thought it’d be fun, to play with my life, without regard for anything about me or mine.
The Lycan that hunted me.
Apparently, I wasn’t even the first werewolf the Lycan has hunted.
I can track this hunter for; forever if need be. That’s how driving the force inside of me is with the scent of that time, riddling my brain. I wonder if anyone has ever tried a hunt in the urban jungles of New York before? If my prey runs, then that’s what I’ll turn this into.
All I have to do, is wait till the timing is right.