A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Bragging rights | December 21, 2009

Sometimes you have to work it.
Even if it means your going to get up in someone’s grill.

Sometimes, the bitch in me just says it’s too sweet not to.

I’m no angel and there are occasions when people, annoying, rude, insulting, people, need to be reminded of this. There are times, when you must take indulgence in your confidence and use it.

Then again, there is a time and a place for most of life’s little drama’s and events to play out. You just got to know how to play it all.

Take for instance, the first time I met the majority of Paris’s inner circle of friends, it was like, well, it was almost like being in high school again.
Fairly, socially torturous.

And you thought werewolves were all nice and cutesy like furballs.

We get dark and moody with the best of ‘em.

To quote the late actress Judy Garland one should “Always be a first rate version of yourself, not a second rate version of someone else” and it’s all too true. Judy knew her shit. How could she not? After all she navigated the yellow brick road with three hopeless men by her side, defeated the bitch of the west and rocked a pair of iconic ruby red slippers all with and the ever super-hero like Toto dog by her side.

Anyway, my point is, there is nothing wrong with being yourself, even if other people, say, like a mega bitch werewolf named Gabby, for example, thinks very, very, very, very, very, little of you.

You should never put yourself down, because there are enough Gabby’s in the world to try and do that shit for you.

All because you’ve got her boyfriend. As in Paris is a man and he’s her friend and it was pretty damn obvious to me within about two minutes of meeting said bitch, in person, that she had a major crush-in-vein on Paris. Apparently they’ve known each other for a couple of years and he’s never made moves on her. Like ever. Which you would think would be a clear sign that he’s not going to. You’d think. Gabby doesn’t really think.

Anyway, so my first introduction to his friends, went down like burnt toast.

I was roasted, royally.

Because I’m an outsider, because I’m a Breukelen, because I’m younger than her, because I’ve got Paris and he never let any of them, apart from Addison, his best friend, know about me. Because I’m not a yuppie, because I don’t drive a sports car and because I don’t live in a penthouse. Because I’m different to them.

And Gabby wonders why Paris takes up with me.
Please.

So when we met up with his so called friends again, I decided there was going to be no repeat of the first encounter.

I wore a halter neck dress, with a low slung back. My back was exposed for a reason. It was a message from me to them and others.

I wanted to show off the claw marks down my back, they’re fairly obvious and distinct. They rake down my entire back, quite a few lines of scratched flesh.

I put my hair up too, because just above where the halter neck of my dress is, is a lovely dark, bruise, a mark that is like branding me as Paris’s property.

Bragging rights, in werewolf world.

Being marked by your significant isn’t all that common. Only those werewolf’s who allow themselves to be claimed by their pack mate generally display such significance to the werewolf community. Markings like these, display love, loyalty and a deep connection with another werewolf, we do not take them lightly. We werewolves, use them as respect and respect them.

They mean more than something.

Paris made sure when we hit Plunge, and walked in together that his hand was on my ass, so everyone knew I was with him, and everyone behind us had a clear view of my backless dress number.

See, he was sending out a message to his friends and pack too.

He approved of the look the minute he saw it on me and I did a little slow twirl for him in private. He didn’t say so, but he didn’t have to. His eyes darkened and a closed mouth smile suddenly turned rather sinister. I swear I could read the thoughts that were dancing around in his eyes before me.

Plus I heard his heartbeat pick up. Desire will do that.

But first things first.

Gabby is a werewolf who needs to know her place and it isn’t beside me and mine. She could be gracious about it, or blasé.

The little backless number was brought out to dispel her intimidation with me. Especially considering the Alpha of the Manhattan pack was parading me on his arm through in his territory to his friends.

Bragging rights. That’s what the markings signify on the simplest of terms.

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1 Comment »

  1. You are right! Never be afraid of being yourself! Ever!

    Comment by Michy Kant — December 21, 2009 @ 7:36 am


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