A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

We The Wolves | September 24, 2014

My connection to Booker is unique one. It wasn’t me that turned him into a lycan.

I sigh and put a hand to my forehead, hoping to prevent a headache. I think I get our connection now. Can’t believe I didn’t figure it out before now.

I’ve always been empathic. Never really got a hold of it though, never understood it until something happened recently to have it pointed out to me.

My new found abilities, tend to work fast when I’m in a highly emotional state. So it’s no wonder I’ve felt this connection to Booker, deeper than most people would.

We met when I was fifteen. And I was fighting with my father, the pack leader of the Breukelen werewolf pack. He and I didn’t see eye to eye about lycans, at all.

Fifteen, was an important year to me.

I’d been attacked the year before when I was fourteen by some lycans. I was lucky to be alive. My fiftieth year, was supposed to represent survival, moving on, overcoming what had been done to me the year before.

Somehow, I don’t really know how, I think Booker picked up my empathic ability, something about it, that I can’t put my finger on. And this thing, that drives us together and apart and near again, this feeling, it’s something other than love, probably obsession, which is never a good feeling for a werewolf to develop.

I mean, we didn’t get together till years past that. But it didn’t matter, we always sought each other out in settings.

One way or another that was what our wolf selves pushed us to do, and both of us were new to our wolf ways, so we did what we thought we were meant to do.

I think we’re somehow bound to each other. As in he bonded himself to me and me to him and I don’t know how. I’m not sure how to undo what has been done. The dream, it was my warning sign, my reminder by my wolve’s bodies alarm clock that I had to get around Booker again.

After all, it’s been almost a month since I saw him last. And I’ve never dreamed of him before while I’ve been with Paris. I’ve never had that happen to me.

“Booker,” I start.

I have to make this clean, I have to be strong and do this now or we’ll never grasp it.

It’ll get worse as time goes on, because time glorifies memories, because we want meaning and purpose in our lives. We don’t want to think of how much we’ve fucked up. I’m in a real relationship now, the first one out of the three wolf boyfriends I’ve had.

And If I look back at me and Booker and our past history, I can accept and move on from my first boyfriend being not so much of a boyfriend too me, as a confused newly minted lycan who had to figure out again, how to be a wolf in a human body, with a woman.

“I know you love him.” Booker cuts me off. “I know and I’m not asking you to give that up, I’m just.” He lets out a heavy breath and seems to mull over a thought. “I want you too.”

I nod my head. “I know.”

I cross my ankles together and think about this.I got home, called Booker Parish and he came running to me.I have a weekend to resolve this. Paris gave me the entire weekend.

We don’t have to do this now.

We don’t have to talk anymore if we don’t want to.

When have wolves ever been known for their talking skills?

Looking at Booker I see how easy the comparison is to make between the “type” of wolf I like. Why it was so easy for Paris to make the connection between me and Booker having had a past affair together.

“I did the same thing you did, didn’t I? I choose a packmate that looks similar to you.” I state out loud, surprised by my own ignorance.

The human half of me sure knows how to suppress stuff.
Booker walks back over to me and unhooks my ankles with his hands, standing between my legs again.

“What does the mean for us?”

Continued in…This Lycan and I


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