A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Breukelen Heart Beats | September 16, 2014

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

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