Revenge

by Girl, Breukelen

  Revenge

  By Breukelen Girl

  Editing by Wonderdog Writing Solutions

  Smashwords Edition

  © Copyright 2013

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may contain violent and sexual content. By reading and purchasing this book and downloading it, you consent to being of legal age for such material.

  This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to www.smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Writing takes time and effort and Breukelen Girl goes to a lot of it for your reading enjoyment.

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. You can find more of Bg’s free writing on her blog “A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn”

  http://altijdbreukelen.wordpress.com

  Growing up Werewolf

  Perception

  Lycan La Vida Loca

  Alpha

  Lunar Nights

  Of Wolf and Male

  Beasts of Burden

  Nature Of The Beast – coming in 2013

  Reasons

  Revenge

  Wild Life

  The Pack

  Lunar Night Stand

  Werewolf Storm – coming in 2013

  Bleeding Hearts

  Werewolf Bites

  1

  Complicated. My love life is complicated. I’m a werewolf. So I guess it was never going to be a smooth ride anyway. Not without a bit of bloodshed, some broken hearts and bones along the way.

  Do you know how many bones I’ve broken in my body?

  All of them.

  All two hundred and six of them. More than once, too.

  See being a werewolf means that at some stage or another, they will all break within me, when I shape shift to my tribal form.

  So you might think I’d be used to the sensation of what each bone feels like when it breaks. Or maybe you might think I’d be able to anticipate when it’s going to break. So this is just a regular occurrence, like a tooth ache or a common flu to most other, non werewolf people. That’d I’d be okay with the pain which comes from shape shifting and bones breaking. Well, you go ahead and think that.

  After a shape shift is over, all my bones are mended again. I don’t know how it works, and I’m really not one to question the heritage of my biology. But it works. And when a shift is over and I’m in animal form, I’m complete. Eventually I will shift again, back to my regular, human form. Any injuries or scratches or broken bones from my animal self, will have gone away and I will be as good as new.

  But when I’m in human form, which is like ninety percent of my life time and a bone breaks, it’s not the same thing. I feel the pain, instantly like anyone does. I can’t just magically wish my bone would heal itself.

  I can’t do a fast shape shift either. You know, need to heal myself quickly so bring on the shape shift, and then shimmy on back to human girl again, after a minute or two. No, I can’t do that. And it’s worse, the pain, the agony factor, if it’s close to or in time, with a lunar week.

  When lunar week is on, it’s like this double edge sword for all werewolves. It doesn’t matter if you’re an Alpha or a Beta. We all get affected, it’s just a question of how. In terms of pain, we feel it, like its purity. It’s the worst. Double whatever the worst pain you’ve ever felt is, then times that by ten. You might begin to get the idea.

  Gabby Colton knows that. That’s why she broke my collar bone first chance she got. She knows this information because like me, Gabby is a werewolf. An Alpha werewolf from the Manhattan Maen pack. She hates me. But hey, no feelings lost here, I hate her right back.

  That’s why I made sure she knew it, when I came for her. Myself.

  Do you know how many hearts I’ve broken in my lifetime? I didn’t think I’d broken any, until Gabby came along and let me know otherwise.

  There’s a stupid saying that goes “all’s fair in love and war”. As if that makes any kind of sense at all. Well Gabby started this war with me, all because of love. Hers for another werewolf, that she stupidly thinks, I’m somehow responsible for having killed. Only I didn’t kill him, her pack leader, my boyfriend, Paris did. But he was well within his rights, and pack law, to do so. Not that Gabby cares about that little point of information.

  Problem is, she wasn’t in the right when she silvered me, stabbed me, or kidnapped me, and abandoned me to bleed, slowly, painfully, very humanly, to death.

  Problem is. I didn’t die.

  Problem is. I’m not opposed to wanting her dead now.

  Problem is. She’s started something here, that threatens to turn into a pack war, between my pack the Breukelen and my pack mate’s, The Manhattan Maen. I’m thick in the middle of it.

  My loyalty is at question. Is to my pack, or to my pack mate?

  Solution?

  Well, that’s anyone’s guess, because it plays on my mind, what that bitch did to me. What she got away with.

  I know Paris will act in capacity as pack leader and deal with Gabby for her actions against me. I know that. That’s not the question here. What is the question is - how she will be dealt with. I want to deal with her, as I believe it’s my right and also, my fight to sort out. But Paris, ever the Alpha, says that’s not going to happen. He’s never letting Gabby get anywhere near me, ever again.

  Passionate words, noble words, best intentions. I have no reason to doubt him. He’s good to his word, always. And he’s never lied to me. But he’s still wracked with guilt over her attack on me because he wasn’t around to stop it. Or to grab Gabby before she could disappear into the night, like a wisp of smoke. Like a coward.

  She was stealthy enough that Addison, an Maen Alpha, warrior wolf and superior tracker, lost her scent in the city. Which is actually harder than you’d think to do in a city of 1,634,795 humans, werewolves, lycans and shape shifters. Werewolves are great trackers.

  But Gabby managed to do it. Just up and disappeared after leaving me bleeding to be found by Paris. Knowing very well that he would hunt her down for what she did to me. Only no one thought, fate would laugh at us all and let me, the little Beta wolf that could, take matters into my own paws.

  Everyone thinks I’m the nice pack wolf, who will do as she’s told. Who will play by the rules. I might not be the mega bitch Gabby is, but I’m no angel. I’m a werewolf, through and through.

  This is why my love life is complicated.

  2

  My muscles are starting to ache, my skin glistens in sweat and my breathing is becoming louder, more like moans, as I’m loved by Paris. His arms wrap around my body, cupping my breasts.

  When Paris is inside me, a little voice inside my head says “More please. I can’t take it. More please. I can’t take it. More please. Oh god let me come. More please. More.” Calloused thumbs, stroking my nipples, tightening them as we move together, my back to his chest.

  His mouth on the back of my neck, the feeling of fluttering across my skin, is the only indication, a quick tingle, over my skin I feel before he shape shifts this teeth, to werewolf fangs and bites me.

  He’s claiming me.

  It’s a sign from me to him, him to me, of what we mean to each other. Claiming is seen as a rather serious move. It can be done in our human form, or in werewolf form. If it’s done in werewolf form, is really seen as incredibly serious.

  The human way of doing this has been adapted. Werewolves who do this now, use it in two instances. One, as ceremony, to one another, in front of pack for life. In my case, and the more common version of claiming, it’s a private moment between wolves. Like another step up
in a relationship. It makes Paris and I more solid in our want and intention towards each other.

  Paris wanted us to get back on track, not to be derailed by the building pressure around us and the situation I find myself in and bringing down on him. The situation hasn’t exactly been dealt with yet. Everyone’s too busy trying to keep the peace and keep everything as it was and has been.

  Everyone’s too busy watching their backs to see what’s going to happen. Everyone’s too busy trying to anticipate Gabby. Everyone’s too busy trying to protect me from an unseen threat, the one they’re all thinking is still coming my way. Everyone’s too busy protecting me from nothing, since I’ve already been attacked once.

  He moves against me, thrusting his hips into me, joining us together as my knees dig further into the moist earth underneath us. Paris wanted this. He wanted to let me know how much I mean to him. He wanted to make sure we were still good.

  They’re hammering him, whenever they can. He gets abuse, he gets scrutinized, he gets questioned, he all but gets threatened by them. In particular, my sister Bodil and brother Aksel, two Alpha werewolves from my family, the leading pack family for the Breukelen werewolf pack.

  They’re rather protective of me, and they’re in no way afraid to come at Paris together or by themselves. They’re not happy that I was put in danger, when I was supposed to be with him, which means safe, in his territory, Manhattan.

  The smell of the earth and leaves that crunch underneath us, centers us to the world we come from. Werewolf world. Our skin has splashes of mud and dirt across it and the night air caresses us as we move against it.

  I feel the brush of his skin, at the back of my legs, and know he’s close to shape shifting. His werewolf self is close to coming out and that’s a telling sign for an Alpha like Paris.

  He keeps his emotions wound close to himself. He has oodles of control and constantly uses it. But it must be tiring when he really wants to give himself to me, without restraint, with all his being.

  That’s what this claiming is about.

  Normally it’s me, the one who gets pushed to shape shifting first. By comparison, it doesn’t take that much. But for Paris, it takes a fair bit.

  I’m not sure he’s ever let himself loose control. Loosing control might be the wrong way to say it, I mean, I don’t know that he’s ever given up control of himself, completely. To anyone, let alone himself. And here he is, giving himself to me, without being asked to.

  I know he feels guilty about what happened to me. Because he wasn’t there, and he couldn’t stop it. Nobody saw Gabby snapping as a problem. Probably because we’re so used to dealing with the bitchy side of her. But we all forgot, love doesn’t always make sense. Especially when you’re dealing with werewolves.

  Werewolves in love are unpredictable beings.

  Paris starts to grunt, unable to contain his silence any longer, as his mouth moves off my neck. It’s dark and the moonlight filters through the trees, to the clearing we’re in, like speckled bits of a disco ball.

  It’s not often we’re outdoors, when we make love. But every time we are, it’s like a new experience, like getting even closer to the werewolf within, the werewolf selves of old. Us urban dwelling werewolves, get reconnected with our roots this way.

  It’s like…being awakened.

  My arm buckles from holding myself up and as I go to straighten them again, Paris flips me over, I’m briefly on my back laying in a bed of crunchy leaves and he’s directly above me, looking down at me. Before he pulls me up and I’m straddling those hips, pushing myself down onto his cock.

  Paris continues to claim me at a leisurely pace. His face half shadowed by the surrounding night’s secrets. I can only make out one side of his face, and he’s looking at me. We’re getting lost here, in this wilderness, forgetting about all our troubles and giving in to just us.

  The sensation of him, deeper inside me is making me arch back, my breasts jutting out at him. His mouth tries to take them, but I don’t want to stop moving. It feels too good to stop and yet, I don’t know how much more I can take. There’s a light wind and tree’s sway, rusting, competing with us for the only noise outside on such a solitary night.

  I know we’re not completely alone. In the not to far distance, there are two Alpha werewolves playing body guard, in the surrounding grounds. Hidden from our sight, Cloaked by the landscape around us. Keeping a look out, should we be in danger.

  Or more correctly. Me.

  It’s been like this since I was attacked. I can’t go anywhere, without an extra set of claws and fur around. Everyone seems to think I’m still in danger. I think they’re over reacting and badly.

  But the only danger I’m likely to experience here, is being so completely worn out, I don’t have use of my muscles the next day. We’re like battering rams in a sense, just using up all that we have, all that we’ve contained since I was attacked, since the werewolf world started to cave in on us, tried to pull us apart. So we unleash ourselves out here, in nature’s embrace. It’s the closest we can get at present, to being alone and together at the same time.

  He’s my sanctuary and I’m a part of him he hasn’t found with any other wolf. That’s what he’s letting me know without saying the words.

  I’ve been told about the types of wolves Paris has previously gone after. Dated. Had “friends with benefits” arrangements with. His younger brother, Wiatt and I talk. Their mother, the only other Alpha female in the Manhattan Maen pack next to Gabby, takes every opportunity she can get, to remind me of those wolves. Of how little she likes us dating. Of how Paris was never really a relationship werewolf, until I came along.

  And that’s when our lives got complicated.

  3

  My orgasm rises and sweeps me up causing me to throw open my mouth and howl into the night. Paris’s body thrusts a few more times before he drops his head back and howls loudly, louder than me, to the sky, as if answering me, as if sending a message to the world, that we are werewolves, we are pack mates. We are in love. We are together, and nothing will separate this.

  He’s claimed me, I’ve allowed myself to be claimed. We are stronger than those that come at us, could know. I understand him; I understand the power of his position in pack and what it entails.

  Paris wouldn’t choose me for a pack mate if I couldn’t be equal to him in this way. It’s just that it’s the Alpha werewolf way.

  They surround themselves with strength and power. It’s like a natural inclination, to an Alpha wolf. Beta wolves like me, generally, don’t even think like that, because we don’t have to.

  Beta werewolves like me, are not raised to believe we are going to be leading anything, let alone a pack, we’re conditioned to be commanded. To fulfill the role of pack wolves.

  He pulls me close to him as we both try to regain control of our breathing, resting his head against my breasts. I kiss the top of it. I sigh, grinning broadly. “Let’s do that again.”

  Paris laughs at me. “I do love a wolf with enthusiasm.”

  “And stamina. Don’t forget the stamina.” I reply, laughing lightly. “What good would I be as a werewolf if I didn’t have stamina? We’re built for endurance. Running and roaming.”

  “Careful, you’ll start turning me on and giving me ideas again.” Paris says breathing heavily beside me. “Very naughty ideas that make me want to wait for your shape shift.”

  “I can handle whatever you’re going to throw at me.” I reply cheekily, laughing and sighing again.

  “Now you’re just giving me license to get creative on your delectable ass.”

  We both laugh and listen to each other’s heavy panting, the sounds of our heartbeats racing each other, racing for control, racing to our wolves needs. Strangely enough, I think it’s Paris that feels more inclined this time around to shape shift to his wolf self. Yet he clings to me, tight, close. As if trying to rein in that control he lost earlier, when we were making love.

  “Don’t do it.” I
blurt out

  Paris’s head turns to look up at me. “What?”