A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn


September 7, 2016
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It’s been a bad week for me, I feel as though I’ve had my quota of bad luck and ugliness that the universe has decided to throw all my way. I try to shrug off the memory that’s been plaguing me all week, as I hear the crunch of a footstep on loose dirt and compact gravel. But when someone’s ingrained into your soul, its hard to let go of all that emotion.

Looking over my shoulder to see Addison Harrington, striding my way. I actually begin to smile a little. Addison’s my associate from the Manhattan Maen pack. There’s only one reason he’d be out here in the back of the Bronx. He trains at this gym so he can spar with some decent fighters. I’ve sparred with him at the gym before, from time to time, but I missed him in there today. There’s nothing better I tend to find then beating the shit out of a boxing bag to exhaust you of all your empty, angry, emotions.

“Hey man,” I greet him and turn back to my car, putting my car key into the door. “I missed you in there today.” It’s when Addison doesn’t respond that I start to turn around and look back at him. Addison isn’t the type to be deliberately rude to me. But as I look at him now, I notice something very off about him.

I can feel the pressure build up in the air. His hands are fisting, still in their boxing wraps. I drag my eyes up his form. He’s a muscular, athletic build, not too big, not skinny. Fucking perfectly proportioned. The kind of body perfection, men strive for that is depicted in those male health magazines. Me, I’m big. Thick neck, big muscles, I try to keep myself well proportioned and not work to hard on just one area. But I’m in no way perfect like Addison.

My line of sight lands on his face, he’s clenching his jaw so damn tight, the definition on his jaw line alone could cut you. Veins are pulsing under his skin, I’m trying to figure out what is wrong when I see his eyes and get it. They’ve shifted to animal’s eyes, werewolf eyes. Oh fuck. He has murderous intent in his eyes which are as angry as the deepest rage can be. It’s been a bad week and by the look of it, only getting worse. There’s a storm coming. And it’s all male anger. I have a split second, or at least it feels that way, to recognize that it’s directed at me as Addison’s arms start to pull back, tightening up as he gathers himself together.

– Excerpt from Lycan by Breukelen Girl


FXXking Bitch…XO

February 8, 2015
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bitch promo

There’s a storm coming…

March 11, 2013
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storm coming promo1

WerewolfOrigin: before 1000; Middle English werwolf, Old English werwulf, equivalent to wer man (cognate with Gothic wair, Latin vir ) + wulf wolf; cognate with Middle Dutch weerwolf, Old High German werwolf

Stormnoun 1. a disturbance of the normal condition of the atmosphere, manifesting itself by winds of unusual force or direction, often accompanied by rain, snow, hail, thunder, and lightning, or flying sand or dust.

A Werewolf’s Xmas sale

December 12, 2012

All Breukelen Girl novels are the same price from 12/12/12 – 21/12/12!  on Smashwords.

Wild LifeLunar Night StandLunar Night StandOf Wolf and MaleReasons

     The Pack RevengePerception growing up werewolf Lycan La Vida Loca

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

Wild Life

November 3, 2012
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Meet Addison, he’s my pack mate’s best friend and second in command of the Manhattan Maen werewolf pack.

Out now at Smashwords.com

Lunar Night Stand

September 20, 2012
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So who’s been a bad boy then? Or should that be girl? Ahem!

How much do you love to hate your enemy?

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 😉

Lycans are made

March 12, 2012
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The first lycan I ever came across was a female Alpha that hunted me down when I was fourteen years old.

I did nothing to provoke this encounter. Other than prove an opportunity too good to pass up for her and her pack. I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Prior to her attack on me , lycans to me were just some bogey-man I’d heard about, like a scare tactic designed to keep werewolves in line. To show young werewolves what we didn’t want to become. Ever.

To demonstrate to impressionable werewolves what was so beneath the very nature and biology of the werewolf. And to illustrate to pups like me and my four siblings how good and great werewolves, Breukelen werewolves in particular, truly are.

I never doubted myself as a werewolf until that encounter. Everything I had ever been told about lycans up until then was proven completely true by that attack. I never have had any reason to doubt my pack. Or my pack leader or the werewolf way of life. But it turns out not all wolves are created equal.

Lycans aren’t a concept. They’re humans who have become wolves. Not true werewolves as such. They’re not born a werewolf. Werewolves are born .

We carry a genetic legacy that is eons old and passed down through our bloodlines.

Lycans are made not born. They do not have a genetic advantage of the human race like us. They do not possess a werewolf gene. They’re a problem created by werewolves.

They’re kind of like a basterdized offspring of a werewolf. The problem with this is that werewolves don’t care about lycans. Well, we’re not supposed to care about lycans. Even though werewolves are at fault here.

Of course being a werewolf myself, a true werewolf, I’m not supposed to say such blasphemous things out loud. Or you know like ever. The general rule for lycans is they just can’t be us. Therefore they can’t be a part of us. Can’t be a part of our packs or our way of life or our culture.

They’re beneath us. They’re nothing.

So you see the problem?

Werewolf attacks and bites a human. Human manages to survive the werewolf attack. Human becomes infected by werewolf’s bite. Werewolf creates something it doesn’t want, a lycan .

Lycan has nowhere to go because lycan lacks identity. Because it is the werewolf way is to deny the lycan such a thing. Strip it of what it would otherwise be entitled to if it were a werewolf, or even a human.

Therefore the repercussions of lycanthropy are put into their otherwise, unprepared for it, body’s system. Human gets past stage one, infection. Survives to live and tell whoever will listen and believe them, that they were attacked by a werewolf.

Human gets ridiculed and become ostracised from everyone and everything around it as a result of this one event affecting them, that they can’t let go of. A month later human goes through first shape shift. Human somehow manages to survive the shape shift. Human is no longer a human, but a lycan.

This new lycan does not understand what has happened to them or how it works. Has no information to go off. Has no support network. The werewolves they find out about, turn them out. All but run them out of werewolf territory.

Any time the lycan runs into werewolves, they fight, and are met with hostile intentions for no actual reason, other than they carry the scent of a lycan. Lycan is made to go it alone. Because lycan is not a werewolf by nature, intention, or biology.

When I was just a pup, I lived rather naively amongst my pack. I was just part of a collective community that looked after me. I was just a pup from the leading pack alpha’s family.

My father is the alpha leader of the Breukelen werewolf pack in Brooklyn, New York. I adore and admire my father. I thought he could do no wrong. I thought he was amazing.

He loved me, loved his pack and he was rather brilliant at leading our pack, through business decisions as well as strategic decisions and understanding the personalities of our pack. Not that I would figure that out until I was older and began to glimpse the inner working of our pack at play.

I didn’t know there were politics to work through because I never saw that side of our world. As a pup, I didn’t need to be.

But after my first run in with a lycan I changed . I guess you could say I grew up. Not that long after the lycan attack on me I met Booker Parish. I was fifteen and Booker was seventeen.

My world was about to be tilted on it’s well structured and known axis. All because of a boy. But not just any boy. Benico Parish, Ben for short, Booker to his friends.

Booker was the first lycan I met who didn’t want to kill me.

Didn’t want to harm me.

Booker Parish is to this day the only lycan this werewolf has ever been in love with.


To Read more from Perception, go to: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/133976

Growing Up Werewolf: Breukelen Girl

August 28, 2011
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My first novella – Growing up Werewolf is now available on Smashwords
for your ebook reading pleasure.

Growing Up Werewolf:
Breukelen Girl’s First novella.

This is me, BG recounting my first shape shift experience and realizing for the first time, that there is more to being a werewolf than just shape shifting to tribal form.

It’s just not what I expected. Nobody expected it to turn out like this. Because no one saw it coming. Least of all the young, unmautred werewolf pup, version of me.

You want to know what makes a werewolf?

What makes me, Breukelen Girl? This is the first in a series of novellas on my past that will give you insight into my werewolf world.

If you liked A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn’s Zines, then you’ll want to add this one to your collection.

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