A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

She didn’t, He did.

November 30, 2012
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“She didn’t, he did.” Addison stated glancing away from the couple across the room quickly.

The main room of the mansion was packed with bustling bodies, music that was too loud and drinks that were being served continuously. A wild party; full of wild things, in other words it was a fairly regular Saturday night out.

“She looked like she did. Are you sure?” Jules asked Addison handing over five dollars as they looked at the couple they’d both been watching through the moving wall of bodies in front of them. “How can you tell?”

They both looked back at the clearly passionate couple. The woman stood in front of her male partner her arms touching the top of the sofa in front of her. Her hips and below hidden from their sight. The male, stood up against the back of her. His hands barely visible at the top of her hips. He was kissing the dark haired woman’s neck. They weren’t the only couple in the room to be having sex. But they had been more subtle about it than some others.

He watched the male, run his nose along the woman’s skin. His hands, looked like they were adjusting himself, back into his jeans. Behind her backside as her hands smoothed her red tartan mini skirt down again at the sides.

Addison downed a mouthful of beer looking around the room before turning to staring at his friend, Jules. “Are you kidding me?”

Jules frowned and shrugged his shoulders loosely. “No?”

“It’s basic werewolf one-o-one stuff. Listen for the pick-up in her heartbeat. There’s a pick up at the start then it kind of hits a pace and then when they’re about to..…finish, there’s an escalation point. Distinctly different in rhythm of the heartbeat. If you can’t hear that then wait till she holds her breath for a second before she breathes again. Dead give-away.” Addison stated polishing off his beer and placing it on a nearby over crowded table.

Jules looked from his friend and then back at the couple they’d been watching, as their pack leader Paris and his pack mate, walked through the mass of bodies in the room slowly.

Between them and the two males there was all manner of things that made noise. A massive stereo; the noisy chatter of people, the sounds of movement were constant. “You can hear that, from here? Over all this noise?” Jules asked pointing around them at the crowded room.

“What? Can’t you?” Addison stated looking around the room bored. Of course he could hear it if he was trying to, if he focussed. Which was how he won the bet with Jules.

He was beginning to think he’d done this scene one to many times. The party was packed, wall to wall. But he felt like he either knew most of the party goers there, or that there wasn’t enough difference at this party from the last party for him to appreciate the good times that appeared to be having had by all, including his best friend, Paris.

“Uh, no hotshot, I can’t.” Jules stated looking back at Addison dumbfounded. Not all werewolves, it appeared were created equal, even when born an alpha as both Jules and Addison were.

Both males had the alpha werewolf gene from birth, but as with anything, skills and abilities, varied from werewolf to werewolf. Addison had always made a habit, of honing whatever his skills were, so he was the best at everything.

They were both tall and of medium builds, both Jules and Addison were strong and fast. But that was about where the similarities ended. Being of the same pack, did not mean they were of the same skill levels. Addison forgot that sometimes. That he did have a far more superior skill range to most of the werewolves in his pack. It was why he and Paris had originally been singled out for the pack leadership role.

Addison glanced back towards his best friend and pack leader, Paris, who tilted his head his head towards the stairway nearby.

“Come on.” Addison muttered at Jules brushing past him quickly, towards Paris and taking the lead heading up the stairway before the alpha leader of the Manhattan Maen werewolf pack.

To read more go to Wild Life

The Pack

September 13, 2012
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The Pack full length novel (my first! whooo!) is out now and available on Smashwords. Get on it.

On an irregular lunar week in Manhattan New York, odd things are happening. The Werewolves of New York City are acting up and it seems everyone is affcted, even Manhattan Maen pack leader, Paris D’arenberg. Does Paris see the chaos around him or is he used to it?  As his pack mate I try to warn him that something is coming.

But what would be brave enough to come for a werewolf?

Hint: Read and find out 😉

The Pack – Part 1

June 30, 2012
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The Pack part 1 is now out!

Download your copy of The Pack – Part 1

The Pack is a ten part serialised novella. It follows the unexpected events of what happens to the Manhattan Maen werewolf pack leader Paris D’arenberg on a lunar week. From A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn’s author, Breukelen girl.

Breukelen Girl, is a beta werewolf from the Brooklyn werewolf pack. Dating Alpha werewolf and Manhattan Maen pack leader, Paris D’arenberg.

As the upcoming lunar week approaches, the werewolves of New York City become a little wirey. All werewolves are affected by the moon’s phases during lunar week. So why are weird things happening to Manhattan Maen werewolf pack leader Paris D’arenberg before lunar week?

He’s getting into fights not only with unknown werewolves but with Bg. It seems sleeping werewolves won’t lie.

As the issue of an old matter involving Bg and a Manhattan Maen pack wolf, arises, again, putting Paris in a contentious position.

War Games

July 18, 2011
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He comes home all bloodied and bruised with claw marks like deep red river gouges fully up one arm. It looks vicious and like it would hurt. I’m sure it does. But the reality is it’s nothing that can’t be shape shifted away. The beauty of the beast with in, it can heal us, repeatedly from almost anything. If it’s not permanent.

Part of me thinks he deliberately gets battle scars. To turn me on of course. I mean without them, clean shaven and all, he’s magnificent on the eyes, with them, he’s just…edgier. What can I say? Does it for me just as much as the clean cut version in the corporate suit look.

As an Alpha whether male or werewolf, he’s been trained to get through the pain and ignore it. It’s from his new training regime. War games. That’s what Paris calls them.

These skirmishes he goes off on with a select group of Manhattan Maen werewolves to some secret location I’m not privy to knowing about. War games that are played out with one team in full tribal, werewolf mode, the other team in full human werewolf mode. He says it’s to tighten up their fighting skills, to hone their warrior wolves. To be alert and ready for any attacks that could come against the pack. It’s smart I guess.

My eyes lazily take in the claw mark up that exposed arm and I make a remark about why doesn’t he put these war games to use with another sparing pack as partners like the Breukelen. I thought it was a logical thing to say. Strength in arms, love your neighbour and all that. Except of course, werewolf packs are very much about themselves. A long time ago before they came to New Amsterdam (New York circa 1600) werewolf packs worked together for survival. But that mentality shifted when the packs did decades ago.

I received a surprised look. Which kind of surprises me. Paris’s expressions are usually very controlled and hidden.

“We don’t want to give our enemy’s a heads up.” My eyes drop away from that claw mark suddenly.

It was my turn for my eyes to go wide.
“Since when are the Breukelen your enemy?” Suddenly not horny anymore.

Werewolves against werewolves. It’s like in house fighting to me. Hardly ever makes sense, when there are other greater enemies to be on guard for. But you’ll never see them coming if you’re not actually looking for them.

“I didn’t say say that!” He’s moving towards me as I’m crossing my arms over my chest. “I didnt’, you’re twisting my words.”

I guess I had a niggling thought buried down inside me that I fucked something up in December. Wether it was us or our pack’s potential alliance, was just a matter of time till I figured it out.

“I’m a Breukelen first and foremost.”

“I know that.” Paris reaches me, his voice softening, his arms on mine. It’s like he accidently let something slip that he wasn’t supposed to.

“So am I included in that we? Because I’m not your enemy unless you make me so.”

Welcome Back Werewolf

January 11, 2011
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Being a werewolf means my life is never going to be normal.
But what is normal anyway?

Everyone is brought up differently, has different blood, hair color, looks, thoughts on fashion. It’s all about the differences life and how you choose to deal with them, really, that makes it your life as such and therefore, makes you also. So how’s that all that different to going fury once a month?

So being called a brat shouldn’t hurt me. Shouldn’t matter. Let’s face it, there are worse names to be called, ruder names to be called and worse connotations to be associated with me than Brat. Really when you look at it like that, the tag of brat is lame, pathetic even.

Yet out of the dirty looks, suspicious looks I now get whenever I’m around the Manhattan Maen pack, it’s the word brat that is the one my ears prick up and hear the most, the one that I pay attention to and the one that upsets me. It’s their name for me, the one they use behind and in front of my back.

Gabby might have been the bitch, but I’m the brat.

Werewolves, we bring the pet in petty. Fucking werewolves and their egos.

If my little showdown with Gabby Colton in December was good for anything, other than my own assertion of strength, it seems to have had a rather, rousing, positive affect on the Manhattan Maen wolves. Not towards me. But on them. They seem more together now. More motivated to act as a pack rather than individual werewolves, just lumped together under the title of pack because they live in the borough of Manhattan.

Who knew Gabby was so highly liked? Certainly not me. I never saw it before from these wolves that now whisper and murmur amongst themselves deliberately around me, whenever I’m around. Brat. Maybe they never really liked her all that much. But then there was the ultimate bitch fight come back in December, courtesy of me.

Probably they just didn’t like looking at what I did to her, and what could happen to them too, if they try to hurt me, like Gabby did. I suspect I made Gabby popular because what werewolf likes being stabbed with knives and sai’s of silver?

I didn’t and she didn’t either.

Still, the exclusion I might have felt before from the Manhattan Maen wolves, merely because I’m from the Breukelen pack, and dating their leader, was slight compared to what it’s like now. Now it’s cold and I’m “the brat” to them. Paris assures me it’ll die down eventually and return to normal, but I’m not so sure. Even Bohm avoids talking to me and looking at me directly. Bohm, who once told me he’d do anything for me, any time required. Not sure that offer still stands from the beta wolf. The lowered eye line at me, that kind of thing used to represent a form of respect in acknowledging a heir ranking, respected werewolf in the hierarchy of the pack. But that’s not what it means with Bohm. It’s shame, it’s anger, it’s disgust, it’s confusion. It’s me through his eyes now. It’s cause of what I did.

It’s one of the multiple reason’s I’ve avoided spending much time in Manhattan at present. But not the only one.

“I missed you.” Paris kissed my lips, we laid naked on his bed.

“Three days apart and you’re crazy with the missing.” I muttered back at him smiling broadly. His mouth trailed down my body as his hands skimmed over me, softly.

“I missed your scent lingering around my house, on these sheets.” His tongue ran a trail down my cleavage.

“I missed the warmth of you in my arms, against my body when I wake up.” His hands rest on my hips as his mouth descended lower over me. “I missed hearing your laughter around me.” Little kisses peppered the way down my skin, his thumb absently stroking the scar on my hip. The one Gabby left with me. “I missed seeing you walk naked from my shower. Covered in water droplets.” His lips kept moving slowly causing me to sigh with pleasure at the stirring inside of me, because of him and his words.

“I missed the sound of your voice, when I’m immersed in werewolf politics and reasoning it carries. The smart stuff it says that always gets my attention.” He said as his mouth reached my navel.

“I missed you too.” I said back at him with a wry smile.

“What did you miss the most?” He asked looking back up at me. “Fingers, lips, mouth or body? Or was it all about intellectual stimulation?”

There was a big smile.

He continued on his journey down my body. Familiarizing himself with the feel of us together. Of the space that we create that is just us, when the rest of werewolf world drops away again and there’s not brats, bitches or bastards. No Alpha and Beta wolves jostling for positions, there’s just us.

“Welcome back.”

No Hay Igual (there is no equal)

November 8, 2010

Gabby’s gone Awol.” Addison mutters softly to Paris. “Her apartment’s barely been touched. Scent faded once it lead out into the street.”

But I still hear it and automatically put a hand to my hip, rubbing my thumb over the small area covered by clothing as I look over at him.

“She’s not getting anywhere near you, again.” He says determinedly looking me straight in the eyes. Trying to reassure me.

“Not a chance in hell.” Addison, another Alpha werewolf says backing him up and looking at me.

I just drink my water and look at them silently. I’m surrounded by Alpha wolves. The biggest, strongest, fiercest, smartest werewolves to be. They dominate my life, it seems. No Hay Igual like it that is so good and bad at the same time.

I come from a family that has three Alpha’s in it. A leading pack family no less. I think maybe part of me thought, when I started dating Paris and commuting to Manhattan that I’d maybe, escaped a bit of their dominance in my life. But it doesn’t matter if I’m in Manhattan, or Brooklyn. There are werewolves everywhere I go. And as opposed to other wolves of my pack, there are the Alpha’s. I’ve been accepted into their inner sanctum because I’m dating the Manhattan Maen pack leader.

I should feel safe. I should feel overly protected. I’m surrounded by males who are willing to protect me, fight for me.

Alpha werewolves who make the best possible body guards you could want on your side. Hell, even Bohm is here, the beta werewolf that said it was okay for me to use him for standing purposes when putting on a show in his own pack. He’s here with us now, in Paris’s house, the place that’s always been a sanctuary to me. But now, I just feel scrutinized, unsure. My comfort zone’s been invaded because he’s called an emergency get together from those werewolves he knows he can trust.

But once you’ve been personally attacked, physically attacked, kind of shatters that illusion. I don’t want to be skittish. But I’m a little jumpy at present.

Gabby Colton has turned from my enemy into my bogey-man. Something worth being afraid of. She’s become a big bad Alpha werewolf, that nobody saw coming. Only, I’m a werewolf and we’re not supposed to know fear.

Which is a thought that prompts me to say “I can handle Gabby.”
Which of course is naivety speaking. After all, she did manage to knife me. Quite literally.

Things have changed.

The simmering hate-hate relationship that Gabby and I have, has gone from bitchy to potentially fatal. I don’t know if she doesn’t actually want me dead now. The thought never occurred to me, prior to her deciding to take a knife to my hip. Maybe it never occurred to me, because werewolves aren’t well known for using weapons when they fight. They fight as the weapon. Using their bodies abilities against their enemies. Maybe that’s why I’m a little spaced still about the attack.
She acted more human than werewolf in that instant she grabbed the knife.

Because she thought to use it.
On me.

It seems more shocking to me, to be attacked by another werewolf, than it does by a lycan or a human. Especially one that you’ve been in the midst of for quite some time.

“Don’t worry, you won’t have to, ever again.” Paris replies. “One of the boys will be with you at all times if I can’t be. You won’t go anywhere without an escort.”
“Gabby’s not that big a threat, that you need to waste everyone’s time by putting them on personal wolf detail.” I reply looking at Addison, Jules, Wiatt and Bohm who has been called in.
“She stabbed you, in front of a room full of pack werewolves, who did nothing to stop her, when none of my guys were around. She stabbed you, and then subsequently kidnapped you and force fed you silver.”

I tilt my head and raise my eyebrows. He kind of has a point.

“Guess, I’m not as welcome here as I thought.”
Paris slides his hand across onto mine. I sit up a little straighter in bed.

“I suspect I know where she’s gone. But she’ll be back. Gabby is a pack werewolf through and through. She only knows the life of one and for all her false bravado and massive ego, and outwardly confidence, I don’t think she’s got it in her to truly break ties with her life here and all that she knows.” He picks up my hand and warps his around it. “And if she does, there are no boundaries that will stop me from making her accountable for this.”

“Maybe you don’t know Gabby as well as you think you do. I mean, if you thought I would ever be in danger in her company, would you have let me be somewhere without you there?”
I see the hurt flicker across his face. I’m not trying to take a swipe at him, I’m just trying to make a point. Nobody thought Gabby actually hated me enough to go beyond our regular bitch fight squabbles we’d had. We all thought, she’d make some sort of political play for Paris’s leadership by trying to manipulate me and him apart. Nobody thought she’d pick up a knife and stab me.

“You’ve got to trust me on this. We’re going to take care of this. You’re pack, whether she likes it or not. And you’re mine. I do not take kindly to what she’s tried to do to us, by hurting you.

“Paris, and eye for an eye and the world goes blind.” I hold his gaze. I have no idea how they’re going to handle Gabby. But there’s enough violence in werewolf world, that we don’t need to keep it rolling on, constantly.

“My battle.” I state at him as he sighs heavily and leans back, against his seat. Still looking at me. I’m a werewolf, I don’t sit around and have no say or control in my life.

I’m not forgiving her for what she did.

But if anyone deserves a shot at dishing out the punishment, saying something to her, or whatever it is, they think needs to be done to Gabby, than it’s this Breukelen beta wolf who’s going to be doing it.

Beta Werewolf vs Alpha lycan

May 18, 2010
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How to explain to your boyfriend, that you’re out for the night, filling a vendetta?

Don’t bother. Because he’ll figure it out, anyway. Well, he will if he’s the leading pack Alpha of the Manhattan Maen werewolf pack and you, his girlfriend, are causing trouble in his territory.

If I’d been in my right mind, and not floating around in the obsession of getting payback on the female lycan hunter that has a rather personal history with me. Then I’d have realized, of course, that not much goes on in a werewolf’s territory, that doesn’t get noticed by some member of the pack.

Especially if the pack, like the Manhattan Maen is rather large in numbers. Of course it means, that some good little werewolf, is going to report a mad capped, ferocious werewolf versus lycan marathon through the streets of Manhattan to it’s hierarchy.

Especially when there is potential for human casualties to be involved and of course, a greater exposure to the law enforcement and human community to contend with.

I mean, twenty questions and more is just damn annoying.

Still, I was starting to bleed when Paris sent in the troops to find out what the hell was going on, after receiving a lot of weird phone calls about sightings about two women hell bent on destroying everything in their path as well, each other it seemed.

I didn’t get to do what I wanted with the lycan.

Because Addison and Jules, Paris’s tough guys caught up to me before I could.
Of course they would.

Alpha warriors who are the best at what they do, keep the peace on their side of the Hudson. You rarely hear about werewolf wars and werewolf fighting going on over here. Probably because Addison and Jules are great at great at fighting and of course, super strong.

They’re not the only ones Paris uses for such things, but they are his main guys. So when they saw when they came across me and miss lycan in a dead end alleyway circling each other and growling, they didn’t stop to ask questions.

I mean, a girl fight is pretty damn obvious. Especially since the lycan bitch had her fangs and her talon like finger nail claws out.

It all went down so fast. Like plunging headlong into an inescapable bad dream you know is going to swallow you up whole.

I was taking hits and landing two to her every four, then I hit the wall behind me.The boys just yanked me back out of the fight and jumped right in my place instead. Went head to head with the lycan.

To say I was ballistic would be an understatement in severity of my rage.

Which of course, was more than enough to scare the bejezus out of the lycan, well I’d like to think so. It was probably more to do with Addison and Jules tag teaming to keep me at bay and take hard hitting pot shots at her, that maybe, even she couldn’t really better.

Still she managed to high tailed it mightily fast out of there as Addison went for me, as I went to run after her and he yelled at Jules to go after the lycan.

Of course, that doesn’t mean I didn’t fight Addison. He may be my boyfriend’s right hand man in pack business and his best friend, but his timing and his concern for my welfare – sucked!

I thrashed like I was drowning in a rip-tide that was holding me in place. Nothing but energy and desperation, fuelled me as I struggled against him for a good ten minutes. Trying to get out of his one arm hold on me. I was like a paper weight to Addison, but even so, I kicked him in the shins, several times in a vain hope of release.

He phoned Paris to update him on what was going on. Although, I must’ve angered him at some point, because he did tell me, if I didn’t stop struggling he would break both my ankles. Regardless of who my boyfriend/his best friend was.

I stopped.

Of course I can recover from that, but the breaking bones part, it still hurts a hell of a lot and is inconvinent.

The brief gist of the covert conversation relayed to Paris went something like – the Manhattan Maen Alpha’s pack partner and girlfriend was going nuts at him over some unknown Lycan bitch who had evaded their capture, but that Jules was on it.

I stopped struggling and yelling at Addison after he finished the phone call, when he said to me
“Paris is on his way to see you.”

That statement alone, sounded like my fate was sealed. The tone of Addison’s voice didn’t sound like we were going to have the happiest of reunions.

On the bright side, at least my ankles are in tact.


March 25, 2010

Lunar week usually means for once in our furry lives (Ha) that us werewolves know exactly our place, in the scheme of things.

We understand what will happen to us as the moon goes through it’s monthly phases of the week. We know what to expect. We do not feel alone, or left out, or a freak. We are amongst the many, rather than the few. At least, it feels that way. The feeling of unity and of something positive is free flowing. It’s like being given your own bit of guaranteed happiness for a week.

That is of course, unless, the routine of this momentum and time is interrupted, corrupted and wrecked by outside circumstances or beings who would prey upon our time to indulge in a little bit of life.

Or of course, if you have a painful ex boyfriend who just won’t leave you be for whatever demented reasons he carries around in his head.

I was on my way out, heading over to Paris’s place when Conall pulled up beside me in the street, in his truck and asked if I wanted I lift somewhere. Stupid me, for a nano second I thought he was being polite, civilized, you know, like a person to me. I’m beginning to wonder if we’ll ever be able to be ‘friends’ again. Maybe being friends is overrated anyway.

“Thanks, but I’m going a little further than you’re hood.”

He was bent slightly forward, looking back through the passenger window at me.
“The Empire State is still a part of New York you know.” He replied back at me.

Why was he being persistent ? Or was he just being nice? Or was that an insult?
God, he does my head in.

“I was aware of that. Thanks all the same for the info.” I replied with a smile and straightened up again. I didn’t want to get into whatever it was I was imagining we might be getting into by the sidewalk. I started to walk off again.

Werewolves and their sense of territory, doesn’t just extend to landscapes and still life property. That’s when I heard the car door slam, but he kept the truck engine running, and jogged around the front of the truck to me.

So stupid. I stopped when he got to me. Don’t know what I was expecting. Don’t know what the hell was going on. Don’t want to know what’s going on in that head of his, I could never get a handle on it when we were together. So what hope is there now?

“You know, you don’t have to avoid all of Brooklyn these days, just because I live here.”

Oh goody. He was looking for a fight. Yay me.

“I’m not.” I replied keeping eye contact with him.
He nodded his scruffy head up and down.
“You sure about that? Lunar week’s almost here and you’re doing what? You’re regular avoidance dance to Manhattan, to him.”

I sighed.
I was never very good at fighting Conall. It always made me tired.

“What are you like spying on me now?” He didn’t answer but he did look away briefly. Is that guilt by omission? “You know, when you’re actually able to say his name, then I’ll believe you’ve gotten through the anger and we can talk again.”

I turned and walked off on him quickly. Territorial alright.

Conall always saw me as his property, as his toy. Discarded me more often then not, but whenever anyone else showed interest, Conall would suddenly go uber-wolf n them and give them a lesson in backing down and away from what he saw as his – me. Same old werewolf. Not that I ever expected him to change. It’s kind of like he has some major Alpha traits, for a beta wolf. Like being incredibly fucking stubborn!

Werewolves believe strongly in territory. This thought of behavior goes something like, territory is shown as strength and power to your peers and as achievement to your enemies. However, in the case of Conall and I, I don’t really think he ever looked on me as some sort of powerful person, or even possession. He probably never once thought about losing me until I finally broke up with him. And I highly doubt that any of his so called friends are giving him grief over our break-up, or that his enemies, are even taunting him about going after me.

So I can’t figure out what the hell he wants with me, if this isn’t the case. Other than he feels slighted, insulted, because a werewolf of higher ranking in pack position – Paris, and in fact in a larger pack – The Manhattan Maen, (which most wolves will agree they see as more powerful because of numbers alone) has personally begrudged him. Insulted Conall, because he (Paris) got me.


It’s seriously too much. I don’t know what I’m supposed to go on when the guy won’t speak to me honestly. Just angrily with innuendos and taunts.

I heard the car start up and watched him speed off past me and that was that.
Brooklyn is definitely werewolf territory, just got to know how to navigate the mind fields of it’s males.

I’m in a wolf pack with…

February 18, 2010
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Oh where to begin?

You know how it feels when everything is good and then it just gets better? Well that’s where I’m beginning.

I like being a werewolf, I love my pack, the Breukelen of Brooklyn, New York. I’m in love with my Alpha from the Manhattan Maen pack.

So it’s all good.

But even I a werewolf, or any half blood, half breed, person of more than one culture, will find, there lives are always forever entwined in a balancing act of expectation and social norms.

Who to please, how to please. What you’re allowed to say and not. Do you hide the werewolf side of you, the wolf culture you’ve grown up in and can help others understand (I think you’ll gather by my blog I’ve chosen my answer as – NO) or do you try to make a difference, create understanding and tolerance towards that difference. At least, what the other side of you, the non werewolf side sees as difference? (uh, hello see above comment about this blog)

So it brightens my smile, makes my day and warms my heart all in one, when I find out that on Facebook, there is a petition to make “I’m in a wolf pack with….” an official facebook relationship status update.

It’s about time werewolves were given this right to freely acknowledge one another without rebuke. It’s time the humans got to understand what it means to us, to be able to say this statement, publicly. It also means, I guess, also, there are those humans who want in too, on werewolf life, on pack. So maybe it’s a nice little thing for them to have also Even though there is a twilight disclaimer on there.

Yes the wolfpack that socially networks together, stays together. Well, I don’t know if that’s actually true, but it sounds cool. Sounds like it could be.

If you don’t get the concept of a wolf pack, it’s really quite simple. In a sense, it is a relationship, much like a family or friendship. It’s about being with something more than yourself. Something bigger and with ultimately a greater meaning. It gives your life for lack of a better word, purpose.

My wolf pack status is kind of confusing.

The pack I grew up in is the Breukelen, they are my family, my neighbours, my friends and life. They are what I know, they are my familiarity, my safety guard and my understanding of what it means to be pack. They are my influence and history.

But now it’s all getting a little curved, cause I’m dating an Alpha. Well not just an Alpha, but the Alpha from the Manhattan Maen pack, Paris. So my home pack is the Breukelen- Altijd– but I kind of get, I guess, special privileges, protection if you want to call it that, from the Manhattan pack too, because I’m his packmate.

But I don’t get a say in Manhattan pack business, even if it affects me. Because I’m not that pack. But if something of Breukelen business happens in Manhattan Maen pack territory, then I get speak up. I get to take action if required as a representative of my pack, the Breukelen.

So yeah, I’m in a wolf pack with the Breukelen and the Manhattan Maen, but I never said my status wasn’t complicated.

Lead you astray.

August 30, 2009
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Conall and me are going through some weird patch of I don’t know what at the moment .

So what do I do? I choose the easy way out and pretend like everything is normal. And I start going a little insane in the process. Building up my own version of events my very imaginative mind.
A bad thing to do.
Paranoia and Jealousy over the unknown.
Talk about a downfall if ever there was one.

I was at Hotel Le Bleu on saturday night, I actually went there with my girlfriends, needing to get my head trip away from all consuming mental thought of Conall.

I ran into my sister’s friend Booker and his friend Paris. Aimee’s eyes lit up instantly. I felt like patting her on the head and saying, down girl, down, put your tongue back in your mouth. But both males are good looking.

Booker’s got a girlfriend and Paris is quite beautiful with his dark hair and midnight blue eyes. Jeans that moulded to his sculpted butt, outline what one imagines was very hard, rock hard, shapely thighs.

I started…watching, I mean, really, watching, certain parts of his body. Like the way his mouth moved. The way his hands gestured. Aimee should have knocked sense into me. But she was probably too busy drooling over Paris also. Especially when I was staring at the way his tongue darted out and around his mouth. It was momentary but it was obvious I’m sure. Guess that’s what Booker laughed at as he gave me a look. That probably said “poor girl, he’s so out of your league.”

So anyway, this little thing I had with Paris. I mean, I was doing to Paris. Well you know…not doing but, imagining, and indulging. The looking but not touching, the talking to him but pretending I wasn’t flirting. The keeping a distance from him that was socially acceptable even when it looked like he was moving in slightly closer to me at times.

I believe this is what’s called stupidity, temptation, or danger or all of the above.

I mean, he was just being nice and talking to me for the first time. Had no idea what was going on in my one-track mind.

Most people say fantasizing is harmless. But when you’re in the wrong frame of mind to start with, I doubt that’s the case. So just as I’m thinking, I really need to calm my body down and possibly find a quiet place for some “me” time, who should turn up at the rooftop bar, but Conall Wakely.
Boyfriend of the hour.

Turns out he’d rung Janie and asked if she knew where I was cause he kept getting my voicemail. I’d decided to leave my mobile at home. Didn’t want to turn into a nightmare who calls her boyfriend when she’s drunk and says all manner of shit she shouldn’t.

He saw Paris and Booker first and spoke to them first, and then my mind kicked into overdrive. I started watching Conall and Paris talking together, and thinking boy-girl-boy. Girl-boy-boy. How hot would that be?

Paris is a werewolf too, from the Manhattan Maen pack. So then I start thinking, about this fact, three werewolves together. We’re all highly sexed, and we’re all highly capable of taking a lot of rough and tumble. I’m thinking sensations heightened threefold….Lunar week could wreck me if this were to be the case.

Ah fantasy, it seriously just sneaks up on you doesn’t it? Leads you astray and into areas you never thought to go.

I shook my head, wondering how I went from paranoid girl to sexual beast girl.

Told you things get topsy-turvey when there’re not normal before Lunar week starts up. Conflicting the two halves of myself, a bit like common sense and sensuality battling one another, want versus control. And then some.

Maybe the human side of me has a stronger need for love and affection than I’ve ever given it credit for. I focus so much on the werewolf and keeping all that is her at bay, sometimes it’s easy to forget there’s more to me than that.

I headed off to the ladies room, and that’s where Conall caught up with me. Pushed me into a stall, locked it behind us. I didn’t even hear him sneak up behind me. Didn’t sense him, because I wasn’t paying attention. So wrapt up in my own thoughts on things.

He shot me a cheeky grin and flitting glances, quickly up and down my body. He didn’t say a word. Because he was suddenly too busy lunging at me and sucking my earlobe before his lips made their way to my neck and around to the hollow of my collar bone.

I would’ve liked to moan.

But he put a hand across my mouth and pressed it down.

I had to be a good girl.

Okay maybe we were getting back on track again. Returning to normal for the wild mix of our relationship.

He dropped down before me and let his hand go from my mouth. Trusting me to keep my noises silent.

My head hit the stall wall a few times as I opened my mouth and refrained from noise. Do you know how much control is involved in silence when your body is raging with sensation?

A heatwave rose in my stomach. A fire that burned a path inside my gut, making me blood aflame with nothing but his name on my brain.

I think I started to sink, my knees literally started turning inward, but he pushed back against them. Holding me upright, letting me feel the strength of his hands on me. Keeping me standing.

Where he wanted me.
How he wanted me.

I don’t know how long we were there. I just know we were there and we were making up for some sort of lost time, and apology and that we are better than alright, now.

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