Wolves
By Breukelen Girl
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
Timeline for the werewolf novels
Growing up Werewolf
Perception
Lycan La Vida Loca
Alpha
Nature of the beast
Beasts of Burden
Of Wolf and male
Reasons
Revenge
The Pack
Lunar Night Stand
Wild Life
Werewolf Storm
Wolves
Wolves Love
Other Breukelen girl novels
Lunar Nights
Bleeding Hearts
The Shadow trilogy:
Shadow Aspect – Book 1
Shadow Games – Book 2
Shadow Boxing – Book 3
1
“Talk about the one night stand from hell.”
The claw marks were obvious, once you recognized them for what they were. An animal’s imprint on her all too vulnerable skin. A branding that said, she was weak and had been dominated by another. A reminder of horror. A scar of memory. A permanent mark that had forever changed her.
Tatum kept eyeing the stretched scar tissue of her ribs. The wolf claw mark was engraved into her flesh and it never failed to capture her attention when she looked in the mirror. It was always there and it always made her think. There was no avoiding the reminder of three months ago.
She still had nightmares about it when she closed her eyes. Werewolves, she’d had no idea how very real they were until she was under one and it was clawing at her skin, ripping her apart. She shook her brunette hair quickly as if to shake the memory off of herself.
Tatum wiped the steam of the bathroom mirror. She didn’t know what happened to trigger him. He’d changed and it had turned into a deviation. Something had gone wrong and then it had just gotten worse. He’d become a werewolf, above her, inside her and he’d wanted more than sex from her.
Tatum picked up the towel and rubbed her wet hair. After the attack was a blur of time and life going on around her. She had somehow dragged herself home. She didn’t remember how. The thought of going to a hospital had made her cringe. The idea of reporting what had happened to the police, seemed ludicrous. So she’d cleaned herself up and tried to remain alive, that was about the extent of it.
Now she was victim of the worst kind. She was one of those who was forever marked. The attack had left her sick for a while, but she’d healed, gotten better and tried to move on from it. She couldn’t talk to anyone about it, because what would she say? How could she say what she suspected, that the male who’d done this to her, was a werewolf?
There was no point to finding him down, was there? Why would she want to relive the horror? Confrontation meant nothing when you couldn’t change anything about what had been done, done to her.
Tatum hated herself, more than she hated that guy. “Should’ve been smarter about it. Shouldn’t have let my god damn libido drive me.” She muttered angrily to herself throwing the towel down and resting both hands on the basin before herself. “Which is a joke.” She laughed at herself and looked back at the reflection in the mirror.
The lycanthropy she’d become infected with from the werewolf attack had affected her, on the first full moon after the attack. She’d noticed it instantly, it was hard not to. Everything changed and normalcy the thought of normalcy, went out the window with it. Tatum had learned that, the hard way. Was still learning that in a harsh new world that she didn’t fully understand.
Her senses had increased significantly after the lycanthropy had gotten into her blood stream. She could be around sick people, those with colds and viruses and it seemed, they didn’t affect her at all, she didn’t get sick. Her appetite for food had increased greatly. She ate close to six meals a day not the standard three, unfortunately that didn’t really translate into much else. Other than her moods were also intensified as it got closer to the full moon of each month. The good and the bad. She was as likely to break into tears at a soppy commercial on TV as she was about to yell at it for some injustice she’d witnessed on the news.
But more than that, her sex drive was harrowingly hard to manage. There was no chance in hell she could just ignore it or get by without doing something about it. “Ironic.” Tatum muttered to herself looking for her make up kit.
The past two months, she dealt with it the best she could, which was too say it wasn’t that good. Turned out masturbation wasn’t enough for her. Tatum was still unclear about how she could pass on lycanthropy to anyone, other than through a bite, like that which had turned her world upside down. Or scratching apparently and the idea of exposing someone else to her during sex, and making them a lycan somehow, even if through some sort of incidental contact of the intimate kind, made her feel ill internally. She would never wish anyone to go through that which she’d been forced to go through in becoming a lycan.
2
Wiatt D’arenberg walked into the uptown bar in Manhattan New York and immediately honed in on the female bar attendant. She was new and gorgeous and he hadn’t been to the bar for quite some time. The bar attendant wore the standard uniform, white dress shirt, black bow tie, black, high waisted, fitted pants and her brown hair tied back in fluffy waves of a pony tail. Her make-up was flawlessly perfect and made Wiatt want to fool around with her.
He shook his head. Damn Gabby Colton, the horniness he was pretending to ignore, was her fault. He’d phoned her up and asked if she wanted to hook up for a good time. Gabby had declined. Declined! What the hell was her problem? He thought they’d had an understanding, about the whole friends with benefits arrangement.
Wiatt thought they understood each other, Gabby and him. They were both alpha werewolves who enjoyed sex and non-commitment and attachment to anything more than the act itself. They both agreed there was no need for more than that, when being a pack werewolf. They both agreed that pack werewolves were more inclined to want multiple partners than a monogamous one. And so they used one another when they needed to.
It was done respectfully of course, they didn’t lose all sight of manners and control. Sometimes they went out to dinner together first. But that was about it. Dinner and bed, and that was the extent of their arrangement. But then last year, Wiatt had slowly been turned off Gabby. There was no one particular reason for it, other than he suspected she had a thing for his older brother Paris.
Paris who was the Manhattan Maen werewolf pack leader and very much in a committed, monogamous relationship with a Breukelen werewolf that Gabby apparently despised. Wiatt didn’t know why. He personally liked his brother’s pack mate, Bg. She suited his brother, rather perfectly and not one of Paris’s inner circle had seen her coming. But they’d all suitably fallen under her spell and were rather happy to have her as one of their own, even if by association of dating their pack leader.
Wiatt signaled the bar attendant to himself. Sure, Wi
att hadn’t used Gabby in months, maybe that was the problem. He hadn’t wanted to, until now when he really wanted to fuck the night away with some female on his lap. Maybe he should’ve gone to a strip club and bought himself a lap dance. Maybe he’d do that after this first drink at Icon.
Wiatt’s eyes took her in. Bright brown eyes, soft brown hair and a gorgeous smile. His nostrils flared and he smelt the bar’s polished wood, the chemicals used to clean it, the alcohol around him, and her perfume and fur.
Icon wasn’t known for being a werewolf bar. It was one of the reasons he liked it so much, because it was one of the few places Wiatt felt he could go and hang out and just be another stranger, like anyone else in New York. To smell fur in Icon, usually meant it was the dead animal, fashion kind. But Wiatt was pretty sure the scent of fur was coming from her. Which made him focus more on her of course. An instant attention grabber to his lust addled mood.
“Scotch, neat.” She nodded her head and poured him a drink.
Maybe the universe had cancelled Gabby Colton’s willingness to bed him so he could meet this new wolf and bed her instead. “You’re new,” Wiatt said at her as she pushed the glass over to him and he handed over some notes.
“Not really.” She replied taking his money. “Especially at this.” She said holding up the money and heading to the register.
Wiatt smirked, it was probably rather clichéd to try and hit on the attractive bar staff whilst sitting at the bar and handing over money. Not that it would stop him of course. “I didn’t mean anything by buying you with my money, you misunderstand.”
She looked at him wide eyed. “For one thing, this,” She fanned the notes “Isn’t going to buy me. I’m not cheap, I have standards and oh yeah, I’m not for sale. I’m a bar attendant. I serve you drinks buddy, that’s it. That’s all your money is good for here. So quit while you’re ahead.”
Wiatt frowned and sipped his scotch. “Damn you’re aggressive.”
She glanced back at him annoyed and shook her head. “We’re not a pick up bar stud, you might want to try somewhere further down the street. This is a classy establishment because we don’t put up with drunks hitting on patrons or staff here.”
“You think I was trying to pick you up? That’s a bit rich isn’t it? Presume much.” Wiatt fired back at her, watching her sigh as she kept trying to move away from him.
She walked back to him. “No wedding ring.” She said pointing to his hand where such a band would be on display if he was married. Wiatt nodded his head. “No wedding band tan line. This is not my first day on the job. Do you know how many times a day I have to politely turn men down from thinking that buy buying a drink they’re entitled to conversation with me?” Wiatt shrugged his shoulders loosely. “This is a bar, not an escort service.”
Wiatt chuckled back at her. “It’s a wonder you’ve kept your job with that kind of attitude.” Wiatt replied flippantly.
She tensed and stared at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “What the hell does that mean?” She asked him raising her voice. Another male dressed in the same uniform shirt and bow tie as her looked at them from nearby. The bar attendant ignored him and focused back on Wiatt. “That I’m supposed to be flattered by your very unoriginal and unwanted approach to making my job more difficult for me?”
Wiatt smirked, he couldn’t believe how easy it was to entrap a female into conversation with him by playing with them. Sometimes he thought he had a gift for reading female behavior, especially that of wolves. It wasn’t until she leaned forward that he very deliberately inhaled the air between them. He wanted her to know exactly what he was and what he was doing. It might help cut down the wait time on them getting together and giving him the satisfaction he craved.
“I see your type in here, all the time.”
Wiatt focused on her scent of fur but there was something about it that was different, it smelt distant, not dominate like most werewolves scent and there was a metallic like tinge to it. The metallic element was a signature piece of a lycan scent. It was what distinguished them from any other wolf. And lycans were not welcome in Manhattan as far as Wiatt was concerned. He wasn’t the only one from his pack who held that opinion. It was rather reinforced through out.
“Lycan.” He uttered softly looking at her in surprise and watching her flinch visibly as if slapped. “My type is welcome in Manhattan, this is a pack’s town after all.” Wiatt fired back at her in a low aggressive voice for just them. She glanced around them, no one was paying them the slightest attention in the bar.
He watched as her whole demeanor changed. If he thought she aggressive before, now she was readily defensive and angry. He watched her facial expression to closed, and pissed off, her whole body straighten and stiffen up.
“You’re not even a type. You’re less than that, a mistake.” He said attacking her silence as she stood before him. “How you got to work here, without the Manhattan Maen permission is something I will find out.” Wiatt said, holding up his cell phone and shaking it at her.
The werewolf in him wouldn’t let a piece of prey go easily, not when a werewolf like him with his instincts and alpha nature could toy with it. That was part of the difference between the werewolves and lycan classes. Werewolves were known for being aggressive, strong and forthright. Everything lycans weren’t.
Lycans were trouble, unintentional trouble. They gave werewolves a bad name by their bad actions. They lacked all manner of control and refinement and the Manhattan Maen were proud that they policed the lycans in Manhattan and kept their presence down or to a transient state. Lycans were not welcome to settle in Manhattan. Wiatt sculled the rest of his scotch and slammed the glass on the bar top.
“Another.” He fired at her, holding her gaze. “And this time, you’re going to tell me what the hell you’re doing here or I’ll report you to the Manhattan Maen pack leader to be dealt with.”
Tatum, picked up the scotch bottle and watched in horror as her hands shook rather obviously while she tried to pour another neat scotch for him. “Because I was right when I said you were new around here. The Manhattan Maen has a policy on lycans and we know exactly how many are in our territory at any one time. I am very familiar with the figures, since I’m one of the wolves who police your kind for my pack. So what’s you’re excuse for being in werewolf territory lycan and don’t say you want a piece of the good life.”
With hands shaking visibly she spilt the scotch, across the werewolf male’s very expensive looking hand that rested on the bar top. “Oh,” She muttered looking at the amber liquid run off is watch face and down into the clipped wristband around his wrist.
“Jesus!” Wiatt muttered angrily shaking his wrist and shaking the liquid off. “Do you know how expensive this watch is?” Tatum opened her mouth to stammer out an answer to the werewolf male before her when her boss signaled her aside. She closed her mouth and ignored the shakes in her hand, still being present as she walked over to her boss.
Wiatt watched as at the far end of the bar, the lycan bar attendant was taken out of the main room and given a bollocking on ruining a customers watch. His werewolf hearing allowed him to hear how the manager of the bar, was yelling at the female. Telling her how he was going to have to comp the young male at the bar for the rest of the night, so he didn’t sue them for destruction of his very expensive personal property.
He heard the gasp and little noises of the female trying to get a word in edgeways and failing. She was clearly not a strong personality to let her boss talk to her like that. Wiatt pushed out from the bar and pulled his sticky watch off his wrist and slipped it into his jacket pocket.
“You can collect your final pay cheque tonight, but don’t come back tomorrow.”
Wiatt’s ears perked up and he looked towards the back door the female lycan had disappeared through. Well that was half his policing problem solved. He needed to move her on, if he could do that, then he wouldn’t need to report her to his pack leader, Paris. It would be less invol
ved and ruin his entire night if he could convince the lycan weather through intimidation and fear or other means, that she just simply couldn’t be in Manhattan Maen territory.
As the sound of the back door opened and closed, Wiatt slammed some money down on the bar top and walked out the front door and looked around himself, and headed around to the back of the bar. His long legged stride got him there in time to see her exit the back alley behind the bar.
“Hey!” Wiatt called out to her. “Damn it, you’re going to make me fucking run.” He muttered to himself jogging after her in the general direction she exited in. “They always make me fucking run.”
Tatum got around the corner as quickly as she could trying to keep her composure, then when she cleared the alley she ran, ran as fast as she could to get away from the angry male werewolf who seemed intent on giving her hell. What had she been thinking, working in Manhattan? That she could just get on with life and pretend everything was normal, when none of it was. Nothing in her life would be normal again.
Tatum panted but kept running, now she’d pissed of a pack werewolf, maybe it was time to move on again. How could she think she was safe, when she could hear him, calling out to her in the distance? There was so much to learn about living as a lycan, she knew that. But the one thing she had picked up on and experienced more than once since being turned, was that lycans and werewolves, did not get along.
3
Tatum took the long way home. She double and redoubled up her tracks and went well out of her way to ensure she’d lost the angry pack werewolf from Icon. He’d seemed intent on coming after her. For what, she wasn’t really sure. Surely a bit of scotch on his designer watch wasn’t that big a deal? If his pretty watch didn’t work after a bit of scotch soaking it, then he was clearly paying for too much for a name and bad craftsmen ship as far as she was concerned.
Tatum looked around her apartment and grabbed her duffle bag and pulled open dresser drawers and started yanking clothes out of drawers and throwing them into her bag. Manhattan had been a mistake. Just like Boston. She was beginning to wonder where she was supposed to set up to live her life, when werewolves seemed to be everywhere she went and they always ran her out of town.
Wolves Page 1