A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Torrid Little Life

October 13, 2014
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Well this is an unexpected development in my already complicated werewolf life.

Lovers will love you, even if it means making a mess of things.

I don’t need any more complications in my life, but it appears being a werewolf pretty much ensures that is the case. At least for me. I’m not you’re average pack wolf and I seem to attract all manner of trouble. Not always my own.

And when I thought I’d come to Red Hook to resolve a personal issue of unspoken, long running attraction to another wolf, it turns out, the lycan in question, is connected to more than just me.

He’s got a connection to my pack mate, the pack leader of the Manhattan Maen werewolf pack, that has been hidden from me, for something like fifteen years.

Darkness and werewolves, they really go hand in hand as much as we try to push it down. It’s that part of our nature that makes us werewolves.

“What Torrid little lives we live.” I mutter looking at myself one last time in the mirror and brushing my hair again before putting the brush down and glancing over my shoulder at Booker Parish on the bed behind me.

It’s time to go home. Time to face my pack mate and see what will be.

I’ll see if I can’t speak to some Breukelen elders, see if they know about soul mate bindings with werewolves, or if there is such a thing, if there is a lycan equivalent . How they work, what you can do.

In the mean time I’ll stick to my regular werewolf routine.

After all, forming habits is how we keep our werewolf selves in order, and out of the spotlight.

I’ll have to keep up the semblance of what Booker and I have been doing so far, orbiting one another every few weeks. Least I should fall into the same damn problem that got me pushed out of bed and over to Brooklyn by my pack mate in the first place.

And how will I feel having to face him again anyway? Now that I know what I know about how he helped Booker? I don’t know. But I’m not meant to, am I? Torrid little life, remember, make of it what comes at you.

Pretty much the werewolf way, fall on your feet, run or stand, make a choice. It’s what you can control, the choices you make.

I run my hands down the sides of my dark blue leather skirt.
“Ready?” Booker Parish says sitting on the edge of my bed.

“Seems like I should say no.” I say back at him. “But let’s go anyway.”

Booker stands up and swings his car key chain around his fingers. “Head first all the way Baby Girl. It’s how I came into this life.”

The lycan’s right. I’ve left this as late as possible, it’s getting close to midnight. And Manhattan does not sleep at midnight.

I turn around to face Booker and come face to chest with him, putting a hand on his chest, before stepping back for a bit of space.

“Maybe I should call some one else up to drive me.”

“I’ve practically been here, all weekend, why stop now?” He replies back at me.

I sigh. “Why indeed.” I mutter picking up my overnight back and watching as Booker takes it off my hands.

“See,” He says at me. “I can play my role. Like a good little lycan.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to say clearly, he’s been doing that for fifteen years. But I bite back that snide and upsetting comment. The bitch me backs down. Neither of us need hurt.

“You might be several things Booker Parish, but little isn’t one of them.” I reply as we head out again, onto the merry-go-round that are our wolf lives.

Continued in so much for the after glow

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We The Wolves

September 24, 2014
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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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