A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Of Wolf and Male

May 25, 2011
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Zine #1 has been relaunched as Of Wolf and Male on Smashwords.

This is great for all you E Readers! As it can be downloaded in Kindle, Sony E-Reader, KOBi, Epub, PDF etc… Yay!
I even did a new cover for the occasion.

So if you’ve only just come across my blog and you have no idea who I am or who these men I talk about on it are. Of Wolf and Male (Zine#1) is a good introduction into the complications of my love life.


Being Good

November 18, 2010
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Who’s brainy idea was it again to have me kept under protective guard on a lunar week, by hot looking wolves in Brooklyn?

Oh yeah, my over protective, well meaning sister, Bodil. That’s why I’m in a nightclub with Booker Parish, dancing like we’re in the streets of South America. New rules in my life to be adhered to until further notice, must have (hot) body guards by my side twenty four seven. Must be an Alpha werewolf or a fighter. Imitators and lesser wolves will not be excepted. Booker, next to my sister, is our best warrior wolf.

Sweating up a river, with our clothes sticking to our skin, like it’s a second layer of it. I haven’t been out in what feels like forever. I’m not used to being house bound. So I’m reveling in the chance to move, to interact, to be engulfed in heat, drowned in communal lust and want.

Lunar week and it’s all fun, fun, fun. Forget your troubles and dance your nights away, the werewolves have come out to play. Especially me. I haven’t heard from Paris since I asked him to take me home. Maybe he and the boys are doing a bit of pack policing, finding Gabby, or something. I don’t know and right now, I gotta say, I don’t care, about that, about Gabby or any of them Maen wolves.

Brooklyn is where it is at.

Heart beats are pumping steadily, as it trying to match the beats of the music coating us dancers in. I can’t believe I’m actually smiling as Booker sides up behind me, and I dance, my back against his front, my hips moving from side to side as my short white skirt, swishes around. My arms are raised in the air, as I look back over my shoulder at the large, solid wall of male Lycan wolf, behind me. His black t-shirt is clinging to his chest, defining it’s grooves and ridges for me.

I swear Booker’s grinning. Nice to see. That boy rarely smiles.
But I feel his smile, his assurance in my safety, with him, literally having my back. Booker might be one of my sister’s best friends and fighters, but he’s something else to me entirely.

Booker and I have history.

So who’s brainy idea was it again to have me kept under protective guard on a lunar week, by a hot looking Booker Parish in Brooklyn? Who cares.

I haven’t felt so liberated in days. Booker gets that, he gets me. I think he’s got more patience and time for me, than the other body guards assigned to their menial detail of protecting the youngest female werewolf from the leading Breukelen Alpha’s family.

My hair is thick with heat and sweat, and it’s hanging heavily down my neck as I gather it up and lift it off my neck, I feel him move slightly behind me and see him, lean forward I think it’s to blow cool air on the base of my neck. But instead he leans towards my ear.

“You want to get some fresh air?”

Do I?
Do I!

Problem is, if I literally go outside for “fresh air” and feel the night time and moonlight caress my skin. Then “do I wanna what”, is going to just jump me, like you wouldn’t believe. I’m one of those sadistic werewolves who likes to test themselves during lunar week, by playing little games with their own bodies desire, so that the end result, of getting what you want, is ten times better. Problem, I only play those sexy little mind and body fuck games with my pack mate. Like my absent packmate, Paris, a friend of Booker’s too.

“Nah, I’m good.” I reply still dancing and letting my heavy hair drop down out of my hands.

“Is that what you call this?” He murmurs with a chuckle, before straightening up. I turn around to face him, putting a little distance between us. “Being good?”

“What would you call it?” I grin at him, still dancing in my heels.

An eyebrow arches up and he smiles shaking his head. “To be continued.” He states looking past me and pointing out the appearance of Conall Wakely walking through Disco and Rhyme. Conall’s eyes scan the crowd, and land on me. His eyes flick over at Booker standing before me, now completely still and staring hard back at Conall. Booker and I are drenched in sweat. We look like we’ve been hosed down in water. Or come straight from a pool party or something. Are clothes are sticking to us like we’ve been swimming in them.

Others around us are peeling off layers of clothing, or near naked dancing around us. See, we are being good. Conall scowls at us and throws his arm around a pretty, petite wolf’s shoulders suddenly.

“Come on, let’s get a drink at the other bar.” I grab his hand and lead Booker off the dance floor as Conall and he continue to stare it out, as we head out to the outside bar. The furthest away from Conall and his entourage. I don’t want to think about him, at all. I don’t want this night ruined. Because it’s like being given a gift, after being cooped up at my family house for days on end in lock down mode.

Booker holds the door open for me as we step outside, and the cooler night air hits me instantly and I tilt my head up and grin at the moon, closing my eyes. My neck exposed underneath as my heavy hair, drops off my back and hangs behind me. I sigh softly. I’m welcome under the moon’s embrace.

“Being good, being good.” I hear Booker mutter behind me, as he holds the doorway open and I open my eyes again, glancing back at him, before we head over to the bar.


Wolfing out at Samhain

October 15, 2010
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Samhain is approaching.

It’s a rather festive time in the werewolf social calendar, there’s usually a rather big party held, each year for all the east coast werewolf packs. They move the location each year. Last year, it was in the Hampton’s in New York, this year, the Samhain ball is being held in Miami.

And Paris keeps looking at me as I type this blog post.

“What?”

He grins at me resting his head on top of his hands. His dark blue eyes never leaving my face. “Do you want to go to the Samhain?”

Can he see my screen from there? Huh. What a loaded question. You’d never think going to such a prestigious werewolf function would be so high pressure to give an answer to, would you?

“Or would you rather go see Sonny in Seattle?”

I hold two other pieces of paper in my hand. Printed emails. “Or Rebel and Rye’s party in New Jersey, or Mikey’s in Boston. Take your pick, They’re all bound to be fun and fully costumed themes.” I smirk back at him. Sonny is a really good friend of mine, Seattle Alki, who I don’t get to see nearly enough of. Rebel and Rye are the Coldtrain sisters, Rebecca and Ryan, two nons who work for our various werewolf clubs in New York. Mikey, is a shape shifter, an old friend too, who I need to remember to keep more in touch with. He tends to move around a fair bit, so it can be tricky. So hearing from him after quite some time, should probably make my decision making process much easier.

“You didn’t answer the question.” He says rolling off onto his side beside me, putting his hand in his head and continuing to stare at me.

Of course, I didn’t answer him.

What Samhain means to me as opposed to every other Halloween goer is different. It used to intrigue me, this big social gathering of werewolf packs from across the eastern states. I’d always wanted to go to a Samhain ball growing up. I’d hear about it, a celebration of our werewolf culture and think how great it must be. How much I wanted to be a part of that feeling. How I wanted to be there, to see what it was all about. To experience the unity.

But after last year, when I was supposed to go to the Samhain, well let’s just say I’m not that keen. See last year, I had a rather massive fight with my then boyfriend Conall Wakely, and I broke up with him. We’d had tickets to go the Samhain ball. I kind of forgot then, when I broke up with him, he was in possession of said tickets. Anyway, it was around about that time, too, that it kind of clicked with me that I wanted to be with Paris, my now, current packmate.

“No.” I say before looking back at my laptop screen. Why would I want to go to the event that automatically brings up bad memories for me? Even though I’ve never attended.

I feel the bed dip as Paris moves across closer to me. “You sure?”

I glance back at him. Why do I feel like he’s about to say he got us tickets to go? He knows why I don’t want to go. He knows why I’m no longer eager to go to the Samhain ball. I guess you might think it’s illogical. I mean, it really has nothing to do with the event itself or anything related to it, other than me, Paris and Conall.

You see, a year ago, I was going out with Conall, I got into a big fight with Conall and broke up with Conall. A few hours after we broke up, A few hours after we broke up I was already speaking to Paris and organizing for us to go out on date to the Samhain. That evening Conall stormed around to my house got into a physical fight with me and knocked me into a concussion.

Then there was the whole Paris and my sister Bodil finding out, me being in a bad way for a good twenty four hours, them all going crazy mad and crazy over protective with me and blah blah blah and the whole Samhain experience as a result, never happened. And just mentioning it out loud brings back those ugly memories.

“I’m sure. Don’t push your luck on the topic Alpha boy.” I grumble at him, focussing back on my laptop screen. He glances at me and reaches for the pieces of paper beside me and flicks between them.

“So, Seattle, Boston or New Jersey, either way I’m going to be made to wear fancy dress huh?”

“Well wolfing out, would be seen as a lame costume, given we’ve all seen what werewolves look like in their natural form before. So yeah, costume, fancy dress.” I type away quickly.

“Wolfing out is lame?” He chuckles up at me.

“Wolfing out at Halloween as an excuse for a costume, that’s lame. Especially coming from an Alpha werewolf.” I reply.

“Oh that’s funny.” He moves over to me and takes the laptop off me, placing it aside as he moves up along side my body. “Do you think wolfing out is lame?” He asks moving with a stealth like grace up to me. I like watching the way his muscles move. It’s a sensual hypnosis of the visual kind. Makes my skin flame with heat.

“Not with you, no.”

He’s completely naked and getting impatient, I’d say, as my eyes glance down over his bare form.
“Lucky me.”He mutters, placing one arm over me, so half of him is over the top of me. His bare arms holding his weight off me. He kisses me deeply.

Lucky him? Lucky me. I feel him shift himself around me and I move my legs apart so he can work with me. I feel hands on my hips, tugging at my boy leg shorts. I lift my hips up to help him.

“I’ll go wherever you go, do whatever you want to do.” He says softly as our lips part slightly and my boy leg shorts are pulled down my legs, over my ankles, pulled off over my toes and discarded. “You know, it’s just you me against the world right?” His breath dances across my skin as my eyes dart around, watching his face. I feel a finger, brush over a sensative spot and I gasp.

“You and me.” I repeat.


Head explosions

September 8, 2010
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From formspring I present the latest question thrown at me.
What would your life be like if Conall wasn’t in it? Would you even want him out of your life? 😛

Agghhh.

I feel like if I answer this honestly, the paranoid part of me says word will get back to Conall on how I “feel” and he’ll think he’s still got reason to try again with me.

Merde.

Okay, here’s the thing. Conall and me, have been around each other for a long time. I mean, we’ve been in and out of each other’s lives for years and years. We’re in the same pack, so we’d see each other at pack gatherings, we’d know the same friends, I guess you could say it’s not that I hate him. He pisses me off and makes me angry and is a regular pain in the butt. But he’s male, so that’s to be expected. But it wasn’t always bad between us. The ending of us was bad. But not the whole time we were together.

So….what would my life be like without Conall in it?

Well, if Conall had never come along I might’ve ended up with someone else, initially at least. I might’ve had the guts to pursue that person. But that’s a lot of “might’s” Or I might be just dating randomly and partying all the time. Or I might just be who I am but without half the stress that Conall seems to bring with him and us. Sometimes I think we’re so corrosive on one another. Other times, I think we used to make a good team, him and I, when we were strong.

Would I even want him out of my life?

Agggghhh.

Hindsight is fucking useless except to remind you to remember shit you’d rather forget. Most of the time, I think yes. But overall, in the personal history of me, I guess I’d say no. Oh I don’t fucking know okay? I tend to believe things happen in your life for a reason, that things shape you for reasons like helping make you who you should be. Mistakes included. Conall included.

Merde.

Are we done with the Dr Phil Introspection now?


How to Break up with a werewolf.

August 25, 2010
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There should be lessons for how to break up with a werewolf.  Because clearly, I need to take them.

My Ex boyfriend, and packmate, Conall Wakely should probably take those lessons too.  Since he doesn’t seem to realise, that we broke up over ten months ago. Or he doesn’t want to.  Werewolf, stubborn, who’d have thought it huh?

I got a message from a friend of mine, a fellow werewolf, saying something about how she wanted to catch up with me.  You see since I dumped Conall and started going out with another pack wolf, Paris, from a different pack,  I’ve kind been outcasted from those within my own pack.

I thought she was offering a paw of friendship to me again.  So I arranged for Paris and I to meet her at a Brooklyn club.

As I walked up to Mish, she smirked at me and silently walked off. I was left watching her go and looking back at where she had been standing. Behind her, in her place, was Conall Wakely.  Ex boyfriend from hell.

I crossed my arms over my chest.

“What, no happy birthday?”  He muttered picking up a beer and raising it to his lips.

I sighed heavily. Shook my head and started to turn away.  I couldn’t believe I’d been set up for this. Although kudos to Conall, he’d thought it through, the approach anyway. If he’d tried to call me over, I’d never have come.

“Well, I hope you at least, had a good birthday.  Did you?  I mean, I’m only asking because you know, it’s the first one I’ve missed in how many years?” He asked keeping eye contact with me.  I ignored him. Turning around and let my anger come through. I wanted him to see and feel how pissed at him I was.

“My birthday was brilliant. Paris fucked me all day and night.”

Conall put his beer down again and I watched a muscle in his jaw twitch wildly.  Guess he didn’t think I’d be so bold. He should guess again.

You know the phrase, “You know, I’ve been extremely patient with you.” Is never going to go well, when it’s said at you, by an ex boyfriend. Or by the words used and the manner it’s being used.  Add to that, werewolf mentality on possession, territory and love and you can see how this raised my hackles, immediately.

Conall and I were never going to get off on a good setting, when he said this to me.

“What?”

“This whole, Paris, Manhattan Alpha dating thing. I’ve been extremely patient with you about letting you have your fun fling, about rubbing it in my face, about having your space and time away from me. Very patient.” He rambled on.  To say I was stunned over his words, would be an understatement.

“What the fuck Conall?” I replied angrily shoving him in the chest and out of my personal space. “We broke up! I broke up with you, you stupid pup!”

This just made him smile.

“Yeah right, like we could ever break up for real.” He muttered with a laugh. “Come on babe, this is what we do, you and me, we go round and round and round in circles, chasing one another.  Fighting and fucking and having fun in between.”  I raised my eyebrows at this statement.  Interesting to know that’s how he figured our old relationship was.  “But’s its no fun, when you’re not there.”

I opened my mouth to speak but he cut me off.

“I get it, you were angry at me and you wanted to teach me a lesson, so you hooked up with another pack Wolf, a fucking Alpha wolf to show me up. I get it. I get it.”

As my mouth dropped open and kept gaping, I did the only thing I could do. I walked off on him and straight towards Paris, who he hadn’t seen, because he’d been talking to some other wolves.

But like I said, there should be lessons in how to break up with a werewolf because that’s hardly likely to deter one.  Even a beta wolf like Conall. Werewolves have legendary focus when in a hunt for something they want.  I was beginning to think nostalgia of times past when Conall and I used to celebrate our birthday’s together, had put him in the mood for a hunt with me.

But I refused to be prey, refused to go back to him, and refused to let him get to me anymore than he had.

“Aw come on, don’t be like that. You’re in Brooklyn now, it’s my birthday you could at least give me..” His voice trailed off as his fingers brushed my arm and I maneuvered out of his grasp, straight into Paris’s arms.  Where I pulled him away from the wolves he was talking too and shoved him towards the nearest wall.

Where I proceeded to kiss him deeply and longingly.  Conall wanted something from me for his birthday present. So I was going to give him something.

A show.

Paris flipped us around so I was against the wall and ground into me, picking me up and locking my legs around his hips.

Paris broke for air with me, panting as I glanced over his shoulder. Around us. Conall had disappeared.  Maybe he’d gotten the message this time.  You see, for all the time apart we’ve been, for all his dissing Paris, he’s never actually seen us together. Seen what it’s really like between us. And since it’s Lunar week, and we’re all feeling things ten times more than normal, I’d pretty much just given him a massive dose of our intesity, just by doing that, and having him in close vicinity.

I guess you could say it’s like being able to literally tell, through sense and feeling, even though your not physically touching the reciever of the message, in this case Conall, wether I was lying or not about my feelings for Paris.

Now, he’d get it. Brutality in my case, is the key.  He’d get the message. So here ends the lesson, in how to Break up with a werewolf.

A werewolf named Conall Wakely.


Perspective & Patience

August 15, 2010
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There was a recent survey done on New Yorkers that found out the things that annoy them the most.  Among them were stupid things, that probably annoy most people I would think, like people parking their cars over two spaces, subway hogs – people who stand in the doorways of trains etc.  Fairly normal stuff, and yet the list made us seem like we couldn’t appreciate anything.  Even tourists got a roast, even though they bring in money to our cities.  Go figure. Whatever. It’s New York man, it is what it is and New Yorkers are rather proud of that and themselves.  No need to change. 

This got me thinking about the things in my life that annoy me.  So here, to give you some perspective on things that are possibly worth, being annoyed about, is my list of 3 things.

*Werewolf pack politics – It’s not just the New York packs, The Manhattan Maen where Paris is from or the Breukelen where I’m from. I mean ALL werewolf pack politics. I don’t really know enough about it, but the more I get glimpses into, and end up being involved in, the more I hate it.  It’s really all about petty grievances and who has control and expectations placed upon you, just because you’re a werewolf. It sucks.

*My Birthday – Yes, my birthday is coming up soon and what’s so bad about that? Well you see in the past, I used to do a joint birthday party, with my ex boyfriend Conall.  His birthday is like two days after mine.  We used to have these massive pack parties in our honour.  Kind of made us feel like kings, being so exuberantly celebrated, by our fellow werewolves.  But this year will be my first birthday in about five years that I won’t have done with Conall. I’m not upset over that.  But it does remind me of how vast a gap exists now between me, and a lot of my pack, because I dumped Conall and started dating a Manhattan Alpha Werewolf.  Kind of like Pack Politics come into play – see point number one, above. Werewolves, sometimes I think they’re so fucking immature.

*Ex Boyfriend – Conall Wakely. Ex Boyfriend. Former packmate.  Now all around regular reminder of pain. Not literally but…messy break up, anger management issues, moving on issues, hatred towards me on sight when he sees me with Paris, new boyfriend…do I need to keep painting this picture? 

Anyway, I’ve moved on from our break up.  I’m involved with another werewolf, Paris, from the Manhattan Maen pack.  And yet, as fate would have it, there are times in my life, when Conall Wakely, keeps popping up into.  And the odd time or two, that I actually need him too.  Sigh.  Like when taking care of pack business – because we’re from the same pack.  When these little moments happen, they ignite a resilient flare of hope in Conall, that he and I will somehow suddenly get back together again.  Even though I keep making it clear, that is not going to happen.  I mention this now on my list of petty annoyances because, well, see point two about my birthday, Conall’s is coming up two days after mine and he’s started sending me text messages about our birthdays. First he was hinting at stuff, now he’s started to make suggestions.

This is a problem, a big one. I would have thought that after ten months of being apart, and me being with someone else, that Conall would take a clue and get on with his life, without me. But this isn’t the case.  I know this from the text message he sent me the other night.  It’s a hard play he’s going for. It means, this werewolf is in for a long haul, at trying to keep himself connected to me.

The message:

“Above all else, there is us.”

He used to say that to me with meaning. I used to think, at times when we were going through rocky patches, it had meaning.  But I was naive and wrong.  But in Conall’s werewolf mind, it’s a war cry of sorts.  Something has made him decided to continue on with trying to be with me.  Me being with an Alpha werewolf, isn’t something that would make him back down and leave me alone.  As most beta wolves would.  No, for Conall, that’s a red flag to actually challenge an Alpha and get me.  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I keep thinking he thinks if he somehow proves himself better than Paris – an Alpha werewolf, that he’ll be worthy and I’ll go to him. But that just ain’t going to happen.  Besides, if he out rightly attacks Paris, for no legitimate reason, it’s like a declaration of death.  

Suicide by werewolf, if you will.

So you see, people, there are things worth being annoyed about, other than someone blocking the doorway on a subway train.  Or a tourist walking slowly in front of you.  It’s all about perspective and patience and being able to place yourself, where you want to be in relation to these annoyances.  Knowing how to handle them, see through them or ignore them all together. 

Haven’t quite decided on which tactic I’m going to take with mine, yet. Thoughts and suggestions are welcome.


Friday the 13th

August 13, 2010
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All the animals come out out night, I think to myself as I look around. It’s not quite pitch black on the street, but it’s damn dark all the same. But I feel welcomed. Home. Good. At ease.  Then a voice over my left shoulder says “Are the Brooklyn Projects safe?”

But instead of turning to look at the person who asked, I keep looking straight ahead.  My night vision allows me to see clear, better than any human ever could.

I feel at home, one with the animals, because I’m one of them. They see human but they recognise the scent of the werewolf lurking under my naked skin.  And they know I amongst them. One of them, with them, an animal that commands more reverence than all of them.  Because I can so easily dominate them, without fear.

“Why wouldn’t Brooklyn be safe?” I ask no one in particular, I can see shadows and outlines and dulled colours of buildings and housing and objects around me and I wonder what there is to fear in this world..

Then I hear the low growl of a beast near by. And I try to sense it, where it’s coming from.  I don’t want to run, and my heart beat isn’t quickening. My face is frowning and my legs are crouching.  Then there’s the growl again.  But just a sound, for all my heightened abilities, I can’t see what is making the noise, can’t locate where it’s coming from.

“Get home safe.”

A hand in mine, and I don’t even hear the person walk up to me. I look over into cobalt blue eyes.  And the temperature drops and I shiver for the first time. Paris smiles at me, showing me his werewolf teeth, through his human face.  I move up to him, press my naked body into his chest.  Heat flares in me instantly and I stand on tip toes, hovering just before his mouth.

It’s still open, he’s still smiling at me. Waiting for me to kiss him. I lean in and instead, I run my tongue over his werewolf fangs and teeth, licking the roof of his mouth.

I taste blood. He’s been killing again.  My mouth covers his and I kiss him deeply, wanting to share in the blood of a fresh kill.

The growl of another animal pulls us apart.  We both look out and I know it’s another werewolf. Crossing into our territory, watching us, disapproving of our display.  disapproving of me, my mouth now smeared with blood from his kill, not my own.

“You were always safe with me.”  I look to the right of me, and Conall is standing there.  He’s clothed, he won’t join us in the night. He just wanted me to know he was there. That he’s always there.

“No I wasn’t.”  I reply, my hand tightening in Paris’s hand.  He looks up at the dark sky, meteors cascade across it and the moon seems to burn too brightly now, like morning is approaching. Like he broke up the night time, my time in the night, my time with Paris.

“Especially from you.”


Welcome to Brooklyn, now you’re dead.

June 17, 2010
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So what are you when you don’t know what you are? Lost?

Vargr, didn’t strike me as someone who was lost. A petty criminal and a shape shifter, he definitely was. But after his run in with me, back in 2009 when he robbed me of my belongings on the streets of Brooklyn, he became something else. All because I bit him. I don’t know if anyone’s every done studies on what a werewolf bite can do. When I bit Vargr, I was in human form, had very human teeth, that had all the powerful force of a werewolf’s bite and strength. I bit through his skin, till I hit bone. His collar bone. I bit so hard, I chipped my tooth.

Non’s just can’t do that. It might sound simple and easy, but muscle is tough, sinew is tougher. Breaking skin is easy, getting past the broken skin, sinking into someone’s bone, that’s actually harder than you’d believe. Of course, not to a werewolf like me. It’s kind of like forgetting your own strength and all that.

I let his words sink in, with the maniacal expression building on his face.

“I’m a, what those native indians call a shape shifter, I looked it up.”

Vargr was a shape shifter. Thanks to me? I frowned heavily. How did that even begin to work? I don’t really know how shape shifter become what they are. I don’t really know that much about their kind at all. But I am like ninety nine percent certain, you don’t become a shape shifter from a werewolf bite. If anything, he should have become a lycan.

My bite did something to him. Maybe, I infected a shape shifter with lycanthropy. Like he didn’t know he was a shape shifter or something and then I bit him and it activated it or messed things up in him? How is that even possible?

I glanced at Conall, ever ready to pounce on this guy, should he make a wrong move. What had I done to this petty criminal? Had I made a bad person, worse?

“How?”I asked him, because the question had to be asked. I had to know. I didn’t just walk through a cemetery for no reason, and not to confront Vargr. I hadn’t worried about this guy for a whole year, because I didn’t have reason to. I wanted an answer.

He shrugged his shoulders. “After you bit me. I become different.” He said cryptically.
Asshole.

“How different?”

He smiled with a cat’s got the canary kind of smile. Like he knew something I don’t know which should seem so obvious to me, if only I damn well knew what it was.

“You freed me.”

A chill ran over my body.

Freedom usually sounds like a good thing. Something to celebrate and enjoy. Only this was a criminal, an from what I could tell, he rather enjoyed being a criminal. Which didn’t make him the nicest person on the planet according to my judgment scale.

He moved away from me and started gathering up his stash pile of stolen items, shoving the small bits of jewellery and wallets into the larger handbags, he’d stolen from people.

Freedom to a werewolf was open spaces, and running and roaming without fear of anything being after them. It was the moonlight coursing through our veins when we were in tribal form on a lunar week. It was…

Moonlight. The moon. The lunar cycle. Lunar week. I kept jumping my thoughts along, trying to piece it together with what I knew, as Vargr seemed to pack up his stuff.

Shape shifters are bound by moonlight. At least, I’m pretty sure they are, I’ve only ever seen shape shifters change form on a lunar week. As far as I was aware, that’s the only time they can. Where as werewolves can change form at any time but have to shift on a full moon night.

“So, how does the whole, changing shape thing work anyway?” I asked curiously.

Vargr shoved his stash into a large duffel bag. “I don’t know lady and if I did know, I sure as hell wouldn’t be telling no werewolf about it.”

“Why not?” Conall asked, beside me.

“When you’ve been on the streets as long as I have, and you do what I do for a living, you learn to have some street smarts about you. You’re the first two werewolves I’ve ever met, but I’ve heard about your type before. Plenty of times. I ain’t stupid.”

“Well, you’re something alright, wandering into werewolf territory, twice now, attacking me once, stealing my stuff.”

Vargr straightened up, hoisting his duffel bag onto his shoulder quickly.

“The crypt’s all yours. I got other places I can crash.”

Both Conall and I stepped in front of him, blocking the entrance of the crypt. So there was no way out.

“You don’t want to do that.” He said at me, his voice getting deeper. Did he think he was testing me? Frightening me? Going to intimidate me, a werewolf, into backing down? Oh he really didn’t know werewolves that well. I won’t back down for anyone. Let alone a shape shifter.

“Oh yes, I do.” I replied, letting my growl come through in my voice. Vargr flinched, taking a step backwards. What an amateur. He really had no idea about messing with werewolves or playing the card he’d been dealt. He sighed heavily and started sliding the duffel bag off his shoulder. Then he threw the bag out at us, slamming into Conall and trying to shoulder past me. Conall swatted the bag aside and moved to grab him.

I’d half been expecting him to pull out his knife on me again. I was beginning to dislike Vargr, a lot. I barely fell off balance as I growled and grabbed him first, throwing him back into the marble centre piece in the crypt. Causing him to bounce off it, grabbing his ribs. I heard something pop inside him.

“Welcome to Brooklyn.” I muttered as both Conall and I strode towards him. “Now you’re dead. For the crime of pissing me off.”

“Okay, okay, you want to know?” He winced holding his arms up in a defensive position, like he thought he was going to get hit. He sounded winded. Conall and I stood over him. What a whimp. I felt my wolf start to get restless. Whimps are weaklings and weaklings are prey, to a werewolf. Vargr seemed like slim pickings made easy.

“I can become animals, at any time. That’s it, I swear, after you bit me, I could just do it. It’s handy, It helps me get into houses easier, people have those pet flap door things, I just change into a dog or a cat and wander in, whenever I need the cash, I grab their stuff and leave.”

Vargr sounded like a stupid criminal if you ask me. Especially since it clearly didn’t occur to him to shape shift to fight either Conall or I.

“Versipellis.” Conall muttered lightly. Vargr looked over at him.

“What?”

Versipellis, the word rang around in my head. I’m sure one of the pack elders had told me the story of Versipellis before. Basically it translated to a shape shifter not bound by the usual limitations. They weren’t controlled by the lunar cycle and they didn’t neccessarily respond to the moon. The story I’d been told, made Versipellis sound like a trickester bogey man. Scary and troublesome. Of course, being told as a child, probably meant, a lot of things sound scary.

So I’d created a bogey man? Shape shifting had to have advantages. But I doubt Vargr knew that and I wasn’t about to let on. He clearly didn’t get the gift he’d been given or know how he’d gotten the way he was. He’d choosen to be criminal and now, he’d choosen to come back into my home. Brooklyn.

Conall clamped down again and continued to glare down at him. Vargr looked over to me desperately. He was literally backed into a corner. How utterly pathetic, my wolf was getting far too excited about how easy it would be to hurt him. I could feel the urge for blood lust coming on. It would be so easy for both Conall and I to take this douche bag out of existance. For god sakes, we were in a cemetary. Who’d look there for a freshly dead kill?

But I knew it was wrong. So I fought the wolf’s urges down.

“I should thank you for what you did for me.” Vargr stammered out quickly, still gasping slightly from his rib injury.

I shook my head and fought the urge to slap him senseless. I hated myself even more for having ever bit this scumbag. But maybe it wasn’t my doing, the Versipellis thing. Maybe that was a myth. A story told to children to keep their curosities and manners in line. Maybe Vargr had always been a shape shifter and never known how to activate that part of himself. Maybe it was all just a horrible coincedence.

Turning my back on him, indicating to Conall I was ready to get out of there. We moved towards the entrance.

“Get out!” I spat at him over my shoulder. “Tonight! Don’t ever show your face in Brooklyn again. If I hear about you robbing anyone in Brooklyn, I will see to it that you’re shredded out of your skin till you’re bled dry, and cut into pet food pieces.”

We walked out of the crypt.
Me leaving Vargr behind me, for good.


Claws and effect

June 14, 2010
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Karma is a concept of cause and effect. But perhaps in my case, that should be claws and effect. In layman’s turns, most people will say to you, when speaking of karma “What goes around, comes around.” In otherwords, you’ll get what’s coming to you in the end. It usually implies all manner of bad behaviour and doom and gloom. And it never specifies the timeline for your karmic retribuition to be layed down upon you.

In other words, karma, my friends, is a bitch.

If you don’t live your life well and good and treat your fellow beings with the same respect you show unto yourself, or would like show unto you, then you’re screwed sunshine.

I got a phone call from all people, my ex boyfriend – Conall. Yes, I know I should have deleted his sorry name from the existence of my cell phone. But I haven’t. I guess I forgot. I should have put a block on it also. But I guess I forgot to do that too.

Although now, after the phone call I received, I think I’m rather glad I didn’t block his number.

Don’t get me wrong, pack, is pack and always will be, with us Breukelen werewolves. But Conall and I will never be together again. However, despite our differences, you could say, we still look out for one another, because we’re of the same kind. Werewolves, Breukelen werewolves.

The point to pack, is this. Protecting one another. I guess that’s why he called me.

It was a shock to my system to get his call. After all the stuff that’s gone down lately, and just when Paris and I seem to be closing the gap on our own little spat together. We couldn’t be more solid, especially since Paris told me he wants to help me find out who the lycan hunter was. He’s promised to help me, look into that lycan.

Then I get this voicemail from Conall.

“I know you’re going to be tempted to erase this message when you hear my voice. But you need to call me. This isn’t about me, It’s related to Vargr.”

You know how people will describe having something like chills run through their body at the sound of bad news or having a sinking feeling about some approaching badness? Yeah well, Vargr is my bad thing. My doing.

When Conall said that word, the hair at the back of my neck stood to attention and pulled, like a screaming child, fighting the hand that holds it still.

I swear I felt my wolf, kick me with her claws, internally. Bile rose in my throat. Not a normal reaction to a phone call, Conall or bad news for me.

But that’s because Vargr is my doing. I still carry the shame of biting a non around with me. I couldn’t come up with a solution to the problem of me possibly infecting this human with lycanthropy that didn’t involve time travel.

What was done, was done. Even if it was in self defense. Still, that’s hardly an excuse for a werewolf. We have to be in more control than some sort of reaction state.

I bit vargr in human form. So I hoped like hell, that the lycanthropy wouldn’t carry through to his bloodstream. Although, I probably broke his skin, with my supposedly “human” teeth. I bit down so hard, I hit bone and chipped my tooth.

I’ve never known any werewolf to pass on lycanthropy to a non in human form. As far as I am aware, you have to be in your tribal werewolf form to do that.

But who knows? Not me.
So I called Conall.

“I uh, got your message. How do you know it’s vargr?” I asked him nervously.

I was alone when I was mugged. So how could Conall know who vargr was?

“His scent, it had something familiar in it. Like the lightest trace of you.” Conall replied back at me. “I’d know you’re scent anywhere. You know that.”

Of course I knew that.

Werewolves can lock scents into their systems, human or animal, for their whole life and recall, the memory associated with it.

Then again, Conall and I did go out for a long time also. So I guess you could say he knew me well.

“Shit.” I decided panicking was in order.

My mind raced. So vargr, the mugger, I had initially bitten in self defense had survived the lycanthropy. But I’d created a lycan. Seriously bad news.

“I’m following him now.”

“Where are you now?”

“Headed into Greenwood Cemetary.”

No wonder I hadn’t been able to find vargr when I’d tried tracing his where about after the mugging. I’d never thought to look in a cemetery.

Why would I?

“I’ll hop on the subway, and meet you there. Just keep your distance following him. We don’t want to spook him.”

“Sure, but what are you going to do once you’re here? With him?”

“I don’t know.”

And the thing was, I didn’t. I’m not the strategist in my family, that’s my sister Bodil. She’s got the smarts for that.

“Alright, keep you posted. Get here soon.”

“On my way.” I disconnected the call looking at the phone stupefied. My mind awhirl of mixed emotions.

What’ve I done?


Trainwreck

May 27, 2010
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I’m suddenly feeling nervous again. I start smoothing down my windswept hair and re-tying it back into a ponytail as I walk in smiling at the girl behind the register stamping wrists. She points me out to the bouncer at the very interior entrance who waves me through. They know I’m the Manhattan Maen Alpha’s pack partner. No queuing for me. And bonus points in they’re pay check for them for knowing who’s who in Werewolf world.

I walk inside slowly. Trying to keep my anxiousness at bay.

I stand there, not far from the entrance scoping out the club. Checking out the regular movement of bodies walking and talking, dancing and grinding. I walk a few steps further into the club and look around past the dance floor, at the booths and the glass cubicle rooms. I suppose he could be in one of those, but I’d have no way of knowing since they’re all frosted over. I’d need to ask someone. And I haven’t spotted anyone I really know from the Manhattan Maen pack, that well. I keep walking slowly, slightly transfixed by the heat and movement strobing my vision and senses. It feels better being in here, than it did, being in my room alone.

Then I spot what I came here for. Paris.

He’s sitting at a table surrounded by people. I can’t make out the ones with the back of their heads to me but I can make out Addison, Jules, Wiatt and between Wiatt and Paris is Gabby. I frown as she laughs at something the two brothers appear to be telling her. I feel a stab of jealousy and instantly start to wonder which one of them she’s gotten her claws into. On the other side of Paris is another of his hierarchy, who’s busy watching the girls near they’re table. Trying to chat them up, it appears.

I feel stuck. My throat is thick and I’m beginning to wonder if I should just turn and hightail it out of there, as Gabby leans over to Paris and puts her hand on his, on top of the table as she whispers in his ear.

Oh please, out of all the women and werewolves he could have slept with in anger at me, please don’t make it be her.

Gabby is a bitch.

Right now she’s a bitch in heat who looks like she’s playing both DÁrenberg males. She gets to be at the Alpha’s table, because next to Paris’s mother she’s the only female Alpha in the Manhattan Maen pack, in New York. That has ranking and respect inbuilt with it.

I think I’m gonna leave. But I keep watching like a train wreck that can’t quite stop.

Did he sleep with her? Would he even do that? Paris is not the bastard Conall is. I need to remember that.
Better guy. Best guy. Although he can be a very dark werewolf too.

It’s then that Paris senses me. His head whips around as he ignores Gabby completely and his eyes lock onto mine.

Gabby starts to frown as Paris stands up suddenly and pushes his way out from the table. Her head and the others at the table travel the line of her sight, following Paris’s movement as he walks towards me.

My feet start moving again, fast.

We stop a little short of each other. Not quite touching. But wanting. I can see him reel himself in. Reign in his control again. It’s only then that I wonder if he can smell Conall’s scent on my clothing. It’s not like I showered before I left Brooklyn, after that. There’s probably enough of his trace scent on my clothes to be noticed.

Shit.

I hope he doesn’t remember Conall’s scent. But of course he would. Please don’t let him think we did anything together.

If I ignore it, will he?

“I wasn’t sure I’d be welcome at your table.” I say lamely pointing to Gabby and the others, who are now, watching us like reality tv show addicts. He knows Gabby and I are not friends of any kind.

“You’re always welcome.” His smooth voice says to me as he looks at me, like he might break from the restraint and control he’s using from not rushing me.

“Don’t normally see Gabby at your table…”

“Well normally you’re there in her place.”

Uh oh. What did that mean? I’d been replaced? She was the pack partner now at least for visual purposes? The blood was pounding my head, rushing through my body with built up speed. Talk about worst case scenario. Was this really happening to me?

“I think Wiatt has a thing for her.”

I nodded my head as if understanding. But not really. I just don’t want her anywhere near Paris.

I can’t help it. I throw myself at him, my arms wrap around him and I’m up on my tip toes, my mouth on his, kissing him deeply. Hard and longingly. I feel himself wrap me up in him and suddenly his mouth is all over me, muttering against my skin about how much he missed me and then his mouth is back on mine and plundering mine and I’m pressing into him, like there is no better feeling in the world than the one I am in right now. Hot kisses scorch my skin and steal my breath and it’s all a heady rush. Eventually, in what seems like forever, we break for air, breathing heavily, looking hotly at one another, holding hands.

“I’m sorry.” I mutter quickly.

“Me too.” He replies.

“I was stupid.”

“Me too.” Paris replies. “I don’t want go through that again.” He says at me softly.

“Me too.” I reply smiling back at him. My heart beat is practically pounding my breast bone with fervor.

“Let’s get out of here, go somewhere more private.” Paris says winding his fingers through mine and whisking me out of there.


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