A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Dark Heart | August 18, 2014

My heart beat thuds in my chest like it is trying to expand it so I can breathe. I only see anger in those stormy blue eyes before me and it’s all he has for me. Where has the loving Paris I know gone?

He gets dark sometimes, but it isn’t usually around or because of me. I’ve seen it once before. Paris can let the werewolf in him seriously take a hold. To the point that he almost gets buried inside, like some kind of internal shape shift is happening and the Alpha werewolf starts to control him. It’s like his heart get’s replaced by the darkest parts of the beast.

But this darkness, it’s brought on by the werewolf trauma of fighting through life. Not over an erotic dream that I had while sleeping next to him.
This is, scary, this is Paris jealous. Really, jealous because of me.

“What?” The word whimpers out of my mouth because I’m wounded. I don’t understand what is going on here. How it could go on here.

“You had a wet dream about Booker Parish.” Paris goes on steadily. “And I want to know why. It wasn’t a regular dream about anyone else in your life, it was very clear to me, it was a sex dream with Booker. So when did you start sleeping with him?”

My whole body is trembling. I push up in the bed to a sitting position now, to face him properly. But it’s not fear that is making my arms shake and my chest pound. It’s anger.

“I’m not sleeping with Booker Parish!” The bed cover slips down me and Paris’s eyes divert briefly to my naked breasts. He looks away, as if pained.

“Cover up.” He instructs.

“No.” I growl back at him and his head snaps back around to me. “You sit there, accusing me of sleeping with your and my friend,”

“Fellow pack mate to you,” Paris stings me with.

“Right, right. We come from the same pack so we must be sleeping together!” I am truly annoyed at him now. “Grow up Paris.” I pull back the covers and slide out of the bed, looking for clothing.

Fuck him! He wants to attack me when I’m vulnerable to suggestion, just waking up, when I’m naked. Well I know how to play this fucking game of punch-up! I pull on clothes quickly. A pair of leggings and a long sleeved top. Armour. Cover me from him, so his gaze can’t affect my being.

“So?” He asks again and I turn on him.

“Are you fucking serious?” I yell in disbelief. “You honestly think I’m sleeping with Booker Parish because I said his name while I was asleep?”

“You didn’t just say his name Bg, you repeated it, over and over again and then I watched as you shuddered and came, touching yourself. While I was spooned up against you. And I know you and Booker are, friends as well as pack mates.”

Oh my fucking god. “I’m going to loose it.” I mutter to myself. “You’re jealous of a fucking dream Paris, a dream!”

“A dream that made you come.” Paris states back at me. “If you were horny, you would’ve just woke me up and rode me.”

I roll my eyes and slam my hands down onto my hips. This is ridiculous beyond belief!

“There’s no fucking logic in dreams Paris, they’re just shit that comes into your head!” I continue to yell at him.

“Look I know you and Booker are friends as well as pack mates,” I growl at him again, beginning to bear my teeth. “And whilst you don’t have a lot of contact with him here, when you’re in Manhattan Maen territory, you can’t say that’s not the case when you’re in Brooklyn. He’s one of your sister’s posse and one of the first called on each time your protective detail is given.”

My eyes widen till I think my eyebrows are going to fly off my face.

“You think, I fuck around with Booker when I have the chance, when I’m over in Brooklyn and you’re not there with me?”

He’s silent again. Dark blue eyes never leave me and I begin to pace around the side of the bed, furthest from him.

“Okay, you want to know about Booker and me.”
I still and look out at him, letting out a deep breath to calm myself.

“I’ll tell you about Booker and me.”

Continued in…. Male Wolves

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