A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Waking Up | August 4, 2014

Waking up alone is the worst.

Okay, let me give you some context on that. Waking up alone, after being with someone, investing your heart and soul into them, feeling their very physical being intune with yours as much as two beings together can be, is the worst.
It’s like a downer.

For me it’s weird. My pack mate Paris is always in bed with me when I wake up, for the most part, we fall asleep together and we wake up together, it’s a rather beautifully symmetric way to start your day.

In cycle and sync with one another, thinking of, one another. That makes me sound sappy doesn’t it?

Paris normally is draped across me in some sort of all-consuming manner, as if silently saying “mine”. The heaviness of his arms and legs wrapping around me, is a comfort of assurance and security, emotionally as well as physically.

He’s tall, six three and I’m smaller, although not small at five eight. But it makes our fit rather good when we spoon together, hiding from the werewolf world in the comforter of our bed. Most mornings, he wakes me up with sex.

So it’s odd that’s he’s one, not doing that and two, not on curling into me. I turn over quickly and look at the emptiness of the be behind me, the space next me is cool to the touch. Paris is long gone. I begin to sit up and wonder if I’m in trouble here. If something has happened to him.

Brushing the hair out of my eyes, I see a figure, a shadowy figure near the bed. I blink quickly and move to push back in the bed. Paris’s apartment is a secure place and if anyone should be in this room with me, it should be him.

And when I find myself alert and awake, I notice, it is him. He’s already fully dressed, in dark colours, sitting in a chair beside the bed, watching me. Just watching me in the dimness of the room.

His eyes are dark blue and human. But it’s like I can see a very caged and annoyed animal pacing back and forth behind them. And that animal look is focussed on me. This is not a look of desire and longing. This is a look of an animal sizing up it’s enemy.
This is not my Paris. My lover. My pack mate.

“Paris?” Even my voice sounds small against that look.

It’s powerfully intimidating. Especially since I do not understand why he would ever look at me like this. His actions alone, of stillness and waiting for me to wake, being prepared to face me clothed, tell me many things about him. The clothing is his armour. He’s spoiling for a fight. With me. Waiting patiently, for me, so he can start this fight. Very werewolf like, having all the damn patience in the world if you think it’ll get you what you’re after.

“Something you want to tell me?” He utters in a cold voice, his eyes never leaving my face.

It’s like I don’t understand the question. We went to bed together in love, and tired and like any normal couple would. And I woke up in an alternate universe by the look of it.

But let’s face facts, we’re not a normal couple. We’re both werewolves, from extremely different packs. He’s an Alpha and a pack leader, he’s used to power and getting what he wants (he wanted me, he got me, after a fashion). And he knows how to fight, physically, but emotionally fighting, that’s my battle ground.

I’m a…well, let’s go with different. Nobody’s really got a category for me just yet. But I’m a werewolf with abilities, that up until recently, I didn’t know I had. And being around his alpha-ness over there in the chair, is only strengthening them.

We live in a werewolf culture, so our lives are in no way going to be normal. But even with that knowledge, I have no idea what is going on here.
“Paris what’s going on?” I try for.

“That’s what I’m asking you, Bg.” He replies still clearly annoyed at me for mysterious reasons.

“I don’t know why you’re asking me.” I say stating the obvious. “I just woke up.”

His eyes seem to study my face, darting around, as if looking for unconscious reactions from me in my body language.
To be continued in Wet Dream …

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