Of Wolf and Male
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
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
References made to:
Hotel Le Bleu can be found on “Lead You Astray”
“the other night” can be found on Blog posts:
“Back in Brooklyn”
“The Night is Young”
“Shadows and Darkness: Werewolves in Love”
“Train Wreck”
1
Why is dating so hard? Maybe it’s because I’m dating an alpha male. It wouldn’t be so damned complicated if my ex boyfriend was actually out of the picture.
I mean, what is it with me and wolf males?
These two werewolves dominate my life. And really, I only want the one to do that, the one I’m dating, now. Paris. Paris and I were coming out of a restaurant in Brooklyn when we, and by we, I mean, he, literally ran into my ex Conall. Small neighborhood? Small world! When these two run into each other, it never leads anywhere good. Surprise, surprise, alpha male - Paris does not play well with others. Same goes for beta wolf boy – Conall. Sigh.
Paris growled at Conall and grabbed him by his throat, throwing him up against a wall. It was so fast. It was like - blink and you’ve missed it. No warning, no words passing between them. And yet, the expression on Conall’s face was not one of surprise. He’s probably used to this kind of social greeting. After all, Conall likes trouble. Conall is trouble.
I was kind of surprised by Paris’s actions but I know my werewolf culture enough to know that you do not undermine or question an alpha. Like ever. Unless you’re asking to be granted a death wish. Besides, I wasn’t really sure what the whole thing between the two of them was about. This time.
Then Paris growled at Conall. “Stay away from her.” Which of course just made Conall smile at him. Arrogant prick . I think he likes that he can antagonize Paris by just appearing. Always itching for a fight Conall is.
“Can’t help fate, now can we?” Conall said rather smugly.
Paris’s hands pressed tighter into Conall’s neck. I saw him squeeze, holding Conall to the restaurant wall, with one solid hand. It was effortless. He had him raised up off the ground, so only the very tips of his shoes, looked to be touching. Impressive at the very least, even if somewhat scary. All that strength, and power in his touch, in that big arm.
One of those arms wraps around me nightly and hugs me close. So much restraint, and control. So much anger, all at Conall. Of course, by then people were beginning to stare. The restaurant wasn’t empty and people weren’t going to look the other way. I think we just got lucky that nobody pulled out a cell phone to record the smack down.
The restaurant staff were getting edgy and worried. Humans, panic so easily. Even if some of them are aware of our kind amongst them. So I did what any good beta wolf would do. I ran interference. I kept the staff at bay, told them it would all be over shortly. This just made the most anally retentive of the staff members rush off to find the manager. Sheesh.
I still didn’t have any idea what all the macho-ness between the two werewolf males was about. Other than what I already knew. That they hate each other on sight, because of me.
I guess I should feel guilty on that front. But I can’t, I don’t. After all, Conall had his chance with me for a real long time and he fucked up. Big time.
I chose Paris after that and Conall just needs to accept that we are done and over. I am with Paris now.
But normally even when in close proximity to one another, and in public, these two are, well, a little more civilized than two brutes towards each other.
“Stay Away.” Paris squeezed harder and I could see the slightest change in Conall’s facial expression. “Stay away from my wolf.” Paris’s voice deepened to a low rumbling growl as he spoke, staring Conall down. Is it wrong to say I liked the sound of his words, the conviction of his threat?
He lifted Conall higher up the wall, like he weighed no more than a feather. Paris could do weights training with him all night long, up and down the wall, without tiring his one arm. Then of course, he said words I’d rather not have heard.
“I smelt you on her clothes the other night. I know your game.” Paris’s fingernails extended slowly into razor sharp talons which pricked at Conall’s reddening neck.
We haven’t exactly talked about that. What Paris scented on me. I mean, he hasn’t acknowledged he could scent Conall on my clothes and I haven’t either. I also haven’t said nothing happened other than Conall brushed up against me, tried to pull me into himself. Because, unlike Conall I’m not out to antagonize my pack mate.
“You’ll never have her the way I had her. She was with me first.” Conall choked out roughly, putting up both hands to the large one, wrapped around his neck.
Anyone else, human, would be unconscious by now.
I rolled my eyes and tapped my foot before muttering “Yeah right.” Annoyed at Conall, before I even realized I’d said the words out loud. I was glancing around the restaurant, as I realized all chatter had ceased and all eyes in the room were upon the three of us. Werewolf business, never subtle. Always a shock to the humans.
But Conall’s eyes had gone from Paris to me. He’d heard my response. How could he not? I wasn’t that far away from them and werewolves have great hearing.
Which just made Paris squeeze harder until Conall gasped. Conall’s eyes flew back to Paris’s face.
Lightly, the talons pricked until they broke the flesh of his neck, blood dripping onto Paris’s hand. Which he shape shifted with only the most trained sense of control, to a wolf paw, that looked more like a claw gripping Conall. Only certain werewolves could do that. But my remark had caught both males’ attention. Paris half turned his head before suddenly releasing Conall from his grasp. He’d suddenly grown bored of showing the younger beta werewolf who was boss. Or maybe he’d had another thought as he turned on his heel to me.
Conall gasped like a fish out of water for air. He collapsed to the ground as Paris grabbed my hand, his once again very human hand and lead us out of the restaurant just as the Manager appeared. Timing.
Paris knew, he’d have heard the general manager’s footsteps coming before they were anywhere humanly audibly close to us. We hot footed to Paris’s car and once inside the silence and solitude of it, he turned to me.
“What did you mean, back there?” He asked me. What? Like the rest of his behavior was all normal and acceptable like
. No need to address that at all! No questioning the Alpha!
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You made a comment.” He started up the car engine. “When Conall said he was your first. You said yeah right.”
Werewolves and their incredibly good memories. So hard to fool. Plus, there’s the whole werewolf tell tale ability of being able to listen to a heartbeat. Our hearing is so good, we can pick the change in pulse. Like sensing fear or you know, a lie.
It’s kind of intrusive, really.
“Oh,” I replied clicking my seatbelt in place. “I was just being sarcastic.” I suddenly found the need to look out the front window of the car an all consuming one. Paris nodded his head and put the car into gear.
Of course, it didn’t stop there. “So who was your first?” Paris asked pulling the car out into the street. I looked back over at him. I don’t think I’ve ever met a guy who wanted the answer to this question before in my entire existence. This was a world first. For werewolves and men everywhere.
Paris sounded calm and curious. But I doubt he was. I could still smell the droplets of blood drying on his hand. So I decided to play along, play dumb. “My first what?” I asked glancing out the passenger window. Best defense is an offense, right?
Paris stared at me, hard. I felt compelled to meet his dark blue eyed gaze. The one that said - don’t try and mess with this Alpha, little wolf. Those eyes, it’s like being held fast in endless waves of the ocean’s best navy blue. And it’s fierce. And I want to drown in them.
“Boyfriend?” I asked arching an eyebrow back at him. The gaze of expectation held. Like I was going to make him say any words he didn’t want to voice out loud.
Hello, have you not met this werewolf. Alpha, male, proud, smart, stubborn and fierce.
I’d be doing all the talking on this one way conversation.
“Timmy Houton. Although, we were both five at the time.” Paris looked back out at the road ahead and I noticed the solid strength of his jaw. He wasn’t clenching it or straining to keep himself gagged. He just has chiseled features that lend the eye to the detail of his bone structure.
I suddenly wanted to start licking my way along the little bit of stubble that was shadowing through. Damn smell of blood. Turns my wolf on and hungers me up, for meat, for sex and more blood. It’s a crazy sensation. I think I must have made a sound.
Like a hungry little moan crossed with a lowly heated growl. Because Paris’s head snapped over to gaze at me, as I ran my tongue along my bottom lip. I could still smell the tiniest bits of blood on his hands. Blood is like an aphrodisiac to me. Whenever I smell blood, I become sidetracked and distracted by it. The wolf inside me wants it.
“That’s not what I meant.” He said watching as my eyes drifted back up to meet his.
I swear a flame started up inside me and the car suddenly felt stiflingly hot and I had to sit very, very, still. It was all I could do not to claw at the leather of his car seats.
What an inappropriate time to get horny. I was wondering if he’d mind if I masturbated myself then and there. But even I don’t want to see him crash his beautiful Porsche.
“My first. As in lover? Who I gave my virginity to, is that it?” I asked rather boldly, holding his gaze. He looked back out at the road again.
“I assumed you’d been with Conall for so long, but back there, something about your comment, just made me think…” He trailed off and we drove out of Brooklyn and I looked at the dark night outside.
So I said “Would it make you happier if I told you it wasn’t Conall Wakely?”
“Very happy.” Paris’s voice husked deeply.
He had nothing but bad feeling for Conall. Can’t say I blamed him. Considering I did too, given how our ‘break up’ ended.
“Then smile, today’s your happy day.” I replied, trying to relax back into my seat. Not liking where this conversation was going at all.
“Okay, I’m happy but now I’m curious. You haven’t answered the question.”
“And I’m not going to.” I replied sighing. Hoping he wouldn’t be persistent on the topic of my virginity.
“Hey, I don’t mean anything by it, I’m just curious, I thought it was Conall, turns out its not. He doesn’t know it’s not him does he?” Paris asked as we crossed over into Manhattan.
I decided silence was the best answer to that question. Which of course was a confirmation. “He doesn’t.” Paris muttered. “You heard him back at the restaurant, he thinks he’s got one over me, because he dated you first and he was your first boyfriend.”
Well he got one thing right- Conall was my first serious boyfriend. But again, I decided on silence. I brushed a bit of imaginary hair from the side of my head. I needed to be doing something other than sitting in a confined space, smelling blood, lusting and being grilled about my not so predictable sex life.
I saw him look at me from my peripheral vision and all I could think was - damn, I want this wolf and this car is too small and too fast. Of course, letting your emotions control you, get the better of you, becoming heightened is bad news for a werewolf. It can bring on a shape shift at the most inconvenient of times.
I concentrated on reigning myself in. “No he doesn’t know.”
“Are you going to tell me who it was?” Paris asked, a little more gently this time. I guess he sensed my discomfort. Maybe he was humoring me into thinking he wouldn’t really continue this grilling of the most intimate of nature between us.
I half turned in my seat to face him. “And what would that achieve? Somebody else you could be angry at and throw up against a restaurant wall, when you smell them near me?” I asked.
Push me and I will burst. Eventually. Paris sighed heavily as we zipped through traffic.
“The other night, your clothes had his scent on them. The last time, I felt that wild with rage about the idea of him and you, was when you two were going out together and I met you at Hotel Le Bleu. Do you remember that night?”
How could I forget? Almost a year ago. I’d gone out with Aimee, my girlfriend to Hotel Le Bleu in Brooklyn to forget about whatever mundane fight I was repeating with Conall again.
We ran into fellow Breukelen pack mate, Booker Parish who was having a drink with none other than, the Manhattan Maen pack Alpha himself, Paris. Turns out, Booker and Paris are old friends. They have known each other for quite a few years, even though Booker is a lycan. Most Werewolves don’t associate with lycans, but Booker was accepted into the Breukelen werewolf pack after he was attacked aged seventeen.
This was my own father, the ruling alpha’s, decision. Therefore Booker is pack. He is the only lycan in the Breukelen pack.
So while I was seeing the two of them there was a beautiful sight, it was also an odd one. I was also getting my fill of ideas of Paris in the flesh, naked, hot and hard bodied. The man is beautiful and makes my stomach do nervous butterfly flip flops of excitement. Now that I think about it, he might have picked up on that. In fact, I’m not sure how either he or Booker couldn’t pick up on me in that mode. A werewolf in lust is like a werewolf in heat. Hard to ignore.
I headed off to the female toilets, Conall found me. He’d come out of his bad mood and decided to join me for the evening. Which meant, he’d crashed the female toilets and locked us both in a cubicle together, and did some very stellar oral work, in making up to me.
And no, I don’t mean talking, the boy is not big on talking. I don’t know how much time passed in those toilets, as I was kind of caught up in a serious amount of rapture. But when we did re-emerge Paris were nowhere to be seen.
Still, as I sat in Paris’s Porsche, I said “I remember wondering where you’d gone.”
Paris sighed heavily as we stopped at traffic lights. “I was so incensed when Conall ploughed through us. I knew, just knew, he was going after you and you were going to… the idea of him with you? You’ve got to understand, by that stage it was just driving me crazy.”
This was the first I had
heard any of this. “I went to go after him, to just, pull him back. To make sure he couldn’t be with you. But Booker yanked me back and told me to cool it. Of course, I couldn’t.”
“So Booker knew you liked me, back then?”
“Yeah, I didn’t need to tell him. I think it was written all over my face.” I nodded. How had I not seen this? Or had I? I must have. I was sure he liked me, but at the time I was with Conall. I had been blinded by the Irish boy who had been my boyfriend, and pack mate, for a number of years.
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