Lycan La Vida Loca

  Lycan La Vida Loca

  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 being hunted can be found on blog posts

  The Hunter

  I am

  References made to lunar week can be found on blog posts

  Lunar week

  Best part of lunar week

  References made to Conall Wakely can be found on blog posts

  The thing with Conall

  Above all else

  Suck it up baby, suck it up!

  1

  I believe things happen for a reason. You just have to look for that reason, because sometimes, it’s not obvious. At seventeen years of age, Booker Parish and his younger brother, Hooper, gotgot lost in the back streets of Brooklyn, New York. What they didn’t know was it was lunar week.

  The one week a month when the werewolves of Brooklyn come out to play. All the werewolves of New York City would indulge in their animal side for the full week. A lunar week is the week leading up to the full moon, when all werewolves are affected by the pull of the moon over their physiology.

  It’s somewhat of a myth that werewolves only shape shift under a full moon. Well, a partial truth, if you will. All are compelled to shape shift on a full moon night. But all those other nights and indeed days, leading up to the full moon night, affect each werewolf differently. Most Alpha’s are the ones that the myth is built on. They shape shift on a full moon. But can hold out for the rest of the time.

  But being an alpha werewolf is rare. Most packs are made up of beta wolves, like me. Beta werewolves are more likely to have to shape shift from the start of the lunar week onwards till the finish. Booker and Hooper wanted to see Roller Derby. Hot girls in fishnet tights beating the crap out of each other on skates, had appeal to their teenage hormones. The boys however had gone too far on the subway, and emerged in an unknown area. They figured they’d walk a few blocks back to where they thought they needed to be. Maybe see something that wasn’t on the tourist map.

  They did. It would be the last thing they saw that night. They were jumped, by what they thought at the time, was a street gang. Only it turned out the street gang, was in fact, very bored, werewolves who saw a chance to have some fun. It should be noted, that the word ‘fun’ to a werewolf at any time could be considered dangerous. Werewolves don’t have the same limitations or inclinations that humans do. ‘Fun’ to a werewolf on a lunar week, could be lethal.

  Now you might think, because Booker and his brother were jumped and subsequently attacked in Brooklyn, that would mean the werewolves responsible were from Brooklyn. But that wasn’t true.

  New York City has five werewolf packs. The Breukelen pack from Brooklyn, are the third largest. And whilst there were werewolves on the streets of Brooklyn that night, it does not mean they were Breukelen werewolves.

  You see, there are rules that are “supposed” to be adhered to, specifically for instances like this. Of course, not everyone plays by the rules. So whilst these reckless werewolves decided to change the fate of Booker and Hooper’s lives, it can’t be said for certain, who those wolves were, or which pack they were from.

  Then there are the lycans living amongst the werewolves. The wolves who were not born natural werewolves, like me. These are born human and turned into wolves, by werewolves, through a bite, or physical attack on their body. Turns out, having lycans in werewolf territory is harder to police than you’d think. Lycans are incredibly aggressive to anyone, human or werewolf alike. So you might think perhaps it was a group of lycans that attacked Booker and Hooper. Not a pack. Lycans are never a ‘pack’. But nobody really knows. The Parish brothers don’t remember much of that traumatic event.

  They were both extremely lucky to live through the attack. Victims of werewolf attacks have to hope that the wolf doesn’t severe anything vital in the human body. They have to have the strength to endure the attack. They have to have the mental will to want to fight through the wracking infection, known as lycanthropy that enters into the bloodstream. They have to be able to endure the infection’s control over their body.

  The Lycanthropy infection, that turns humans into wolves, is fast. It enters the blood stream, when the victim in question is being attacked. If a victim can get through that first forty eight hours, it’s usually considered a good sign.

  Because getting through the infection is horrifically bad, but then getting through the first shape shift is a lot to ask of a human body. So for both brothers, who could not escape their attack unscathed, it was considered a miracle that they survived. They were left for dead, bleeding, under a luminous moon, when Brooklyn’s residents knew to stay off the streets.

  As they lay near death, a shift worker on his way in to work discovered their bloody bodies. He rang the police, who called the paramedics, even though the man reported them both as dead. The man could be forgiven though. They looked dead.

  Coated in so much blood, it was a wonder they had any left inside themselves to keep pumping through their veins.

  Booker and Hooper were hustled off to a hospital, which happened to have a ’friendly’ working in emergency. A friendly is a human who’s willing to help and protect werewolves, should they require assistance in the human world. This friendly recognized the signs of a werewolf attack. He called the Breukelen Pack.

  The leading Breukelen Alpha called on his pack to track down those responsible for the attack. By the time the werewolves got to the attack site, Police forensics had already been over the scene. But a werewolf has better senses than a human. We can see the greatest detail, scent smells that the humans just can’t. We can follow a blood trail for miles. We can remember a scent forever. The one thing we can’t do is beat mother nature herself.

  When the heavens opened up and brought the rain crashing down, the werewolves lost any hope of capturing a scent that would lead them to those responsible for the Parish brothers attack.

  The attack was considered not only a heinous crime in the human world, but an insult of grave consequences in the werewolf world.

  Both brothers were put into medically induced comas to improve their survival rate.

  later.

  We were all on Parish-brothers watch detail. Partially, for their own protection and also to see if we could find out who had done this to them. I was sitting in Booker’s room, when he first came to and opened his eyes.

  I wa
tched him check out his surroundings. Then those brown eyes, landed on me. I stood slowly as he continued to hold my gaze and look me over.

  “You’re in a hospital. You were attacked, do you remember that?” I asked. It’s a horrible question to ask. The guy had barely been alive all week and I was asking a question that could put him straight back into shock. He kept looking at me. Remaining silent. Suspicious.

  “I don’t want to alarm you. But you were muttering the name Ben.” His eyes widened as I spoke “Is that the other guy’s name?”

  He started to shake his head and pull at the tight hospital sheets encasing him in the bed.

  “You shouldn’t try and get up, you’re in no condition to..” But he’d already ripped the sheet back from his chest. Even at seventeen, Booker Parish was athletically built.

  “Where’s my brother?” his voice was gruff and dry and had barely any volume to it.

  But I’m a werewolf, I can hear heart beats. I heard him as well as if he had been yelling into my ear. I walked over to the bed and picked up the water bottle next to him as he kept struggling with the sheet.

  “You should rest, have some water.” He grabbed my wrist. I was alarmed by the strength of his grip. Humans can be strong, but I am stronger. This guy felt like he could throw me across the room, with a flick of his wrist. It was the lycanthropy in his system. He was already a lycan. He just didn’t know it yet. I knew it, the moment he grabbed me. He’d still have to endure the shape shift later, but he was alive, as a lycan. I wondered how he’d be told. That information wasn’t my job to deliver, which I was extremely grateful for.

  Then his nostrils flared, as we held our Mexican stand off, staring at one another in the silence of the hospital room. He inhaled a deep breath and I watched him, glance me over again. His senses were already heightened. He’d picked up my scent, but he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

  “You’re brother Ben, is fine. He’s alive. He’s..”

  “Not Ben. Hooper.” He gasped, loosening his grip on my wrist, without letting go. “I’m Ben. Benicio.” He fell back against the pillow and let go of my wrist, it was taking a toll on his energy levels to remain half upright.

  “Ben,” I repeated with a little smile. I offered the glass of water ignoring the burning sensation around my wrist.

  “Everyone calls me Booker.” He muttered.

  “It’s been a long week. When you were brought in, neither of you had any ID on you, police figured…” I stopped. He was staring at me hard again as he snatched the glass quickly and skulled the water down hurriedly.

  “We’ve been in here a week? Where? Where’s Hooper?” he asked abandoning the water glass and sitting upright on the side of the bed. “My mother….have to tell her.”

  “Whoa, big guy, Hooper’s next door, he’s still sleeping, he won’t be awake. But he’s doing fine.” I replied stepping back slightly, when I realized just how big and broad he was. He hadn’t looked so big when he was lying down. But even half way to upright, this guy dwarfed me. He had to be at least six foot.

  Booker got to his feet and pushed up off the hospital bed. He tried to rip the I.V. tube out of the back of his hand, rather unsuccessfully. He took one step forward and collapsed onto the ground, dragging the I.V. drip and holder crashing to the floor with him. I rushed over to him, as his eyes fluttered shut again. His body was still trying to cope with the lycanthropy in its system. Any normal person would have called for help to get him back into the bed. But I’m not normal.

  I may have been a fifteen year old beta wolf at the time, but even at fifteen I could bench press a 165 pound human male. I got him up under my shoulder and shuffled his very muscular form back into the bed. I would have made a great hospital orderly. I tucked him back into the bed and looked down at my wrist, already bruising from the grip he’d had on it. If he had gripped a human that tightly he would have snapped the wrist in half.

  2

  It would be another four weeks before I saw Booker again. By that time, he had officially become part of the Breukelen pack. His brother, Hooper, had chosen not to join us. He left Booker in Brooklyn, alone.

  What Booker didn’t know at that stage, was that lycans are generally not taken into wolf packs. They never seem to fully assimilate. Booker too, would have been left to fend for himself after his eventual hospital release, if I hadn’t stepped in.

  The Breukelen alpha didn’t see Booker and Hooper as his responsibility. Yet, he must have felt something, since I would find out later on, that he had paid for all their medical requirements.

  It was me who decided, we owed both brothers more than a quick patch up job. I said as much to him. I argued for the Parish brother’s inclusion into the pack. I recruited my siblings, to press my father for their inclusion.

  Booker would be taken under my older sister Bodil’s wing. As it was decided since she was closer to Booker’s age, she would be the one to help him adjust to pack life. I wouldn’t really get to know Booker Parish till about three years later. I’d have small interactions with him. But it wasn’t until then that Booker and I formed a close relationship.

  I guess it might have had something to do with me reminding him of the day he’d woken up a lycan. He’d scented me and scent gets locked into our memories. So mine, was linked to the discomfort and unhappiness of that day for him. It’s no wonder we hardly talked. He could probably barely stand to look at me because of that reminder.

  To the outside world and to the Breukelen Pack, Booker had found his place amongst us. But internally, he was still a whirl of mixed emotions from the attack. It was still impacting on him, it was still a big part of his life. Especially considering, the attack had slammed a giant wedge between Booker and his brother, which hadn’t been fixed.

  It was at the end of my eighteenth birthday party, when everyone had gone home for the night that Booker and I ended up talking with one another. After several rounds of shots into the wee hours of the morning.

  “Okay, I’m going to grant you the birthday privilege of being allowed to be the only person to call me Ben.” Booker started off with, once we were alone.

  “The privilege?” I laughed at him.

  “Yeah, only my mother calls me, Benicio. All my friends call me Booker. You called me Ben when we first met. So I guess that means you get to have that name tag, for me.” He said raising a shot glass in salute at me. “And you are the birthday girl, so you know…”

  “Privilege.” I muttered happily.

  “Only, there’s one condition – you can only call me it in private. In public, I’m still Booker.”

  “Calling you Ben, it’s almost as good as your birthday gift to me.”

  He smiled back at me widely. “You like it?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Good, I’ve never been particularly good at shopping for girl gifts.” If anyone had been watching us, they’d have thought we were flirting with one another. And that we were drunk.

  They’d have been right. On both counts. We were both from the same wolf pack, without a pack mate. And there was a definite attraction sparking away between us.

  “So, you haven’t told me why everyone calls you Booker. How’d you get that name?” I asked downing another shot of tequila.

  “Oh it’s a childhood nick name. I was always burying myself in comic books. Like to the point of near obsession. I loved the comic book world and all its monsters. Now I feel like I am one of them.” He replied trailing off with a sigh.

  I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so I let the silence hang. “Anyway, one of my friends, came up with the name and it stuck. They’ve been calling me it, ever since.” That was how we bonded. He shared a part of himself, with just me. Everyone in the pack accepted him as Booker the Breukelen lycan. I don’t think anyone in the pack outside of me and my father, knew his real name.

  “I’m glad you decided to be a Breukelen.” I said softly, sitting with my back to his back, propping one another up. I felt him half tu
rn his head. We hadn’t spoken to one another about his attack since the day he’d woken up. Talking about his birth name was about as close to anything as we’d ever come acknowledging what had happened to him.

  I felt Booker pull away from me and he shuffled around the floor till he was facing me.

  “I’m glad too.” He replied softly, leaning forward and holding my chin in his hand, and kissing me softly. “Happy Birthday.” He muttered in a low voice, and continued kissing me.

  The kiss was soft and gentle and tasted of heat. His scent was like coffee swirled with platinum and I let myself take that in as we deepened the kiss. We scrambled closer together, until Booker had pulled me across his lap. I wrapped my arms around his neck and splayed my fingers through his hair. And still we kissed. His hands slid down my back and cupped my bottom as I straddled his lap. I could feel the strain of his erection through his jeans rubbing against me, under my skirt. Booker held me close. So close, that every time I took a breath, my breasts rubbed up against his t-shirt, making him moan lightly in response.