Lycan Read online

  Lycan

  By Breukelen Girl

  A Werewolf in Brooklyn Blog - Zine Edition

  © Copyright 2016

  The Breukelen Girl Zine Series is a short story series taken from The blog A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn and / or its characters including background stories. This story is related to Werewolf Consort & Wild Love, but can be read as a stand alone story.

  This book is intended for a mature audience. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may contain violent and sexual content. By downloading this book, and reading this book and, 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 another copy from Smashwords.

  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

  1

  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.

  My gym bag slides down my arm onto the hood of my car, as I prepare to block his punch just as Addison reaches me. I’ve barely turned half way around when he slams my head into the car bonnet with one hand. I grit my teeth and push back off the car, ignoring the flaring pain and the blood gushing down my nose and mouth. I turn in time to receive a punch to my solar plexus with a blow that makes me gasp for air, like a fish out of water.

  Being hit in the solar plexus will wound anyone even with a semi weak hit. But to really get to a guy like me, you need a lot of power behind that punch. And Addison might not look it, entirely, but he has power. It’s automatic to try and breathe in air and find all the muscles in my body will do is seize up and gasp. Making me want to rub them and loosen them up. But I ignore the impulse and try to think beyond the pain firing in my chest. I rise up. I can’t talk, my mouth only knows how to gape for air.

  But Addison has already started my destruction. He’s fast and furious beyond compare. Each body blow he delivers to me, is different with it’s intent. There is meaning in this anger. There is a purpose to his rage. He is systematically dismantling my ability to react and fight back. Fists, slam my ribs so hard I hear them crack. As if breathing already wasn’t hard enough!

  I pull try to keep pulling myself upright, to my standing height, when realizing he’s not trying to go for the superficial blows to my face, but I’m greeted with Addison’s face looming over me, his forehead slamming down onto the bridge of my noise. Lightening bolts of pain ripple across my nose and eyes. I see stars and feel the murky depths of aching pain that comes from not just being attacked, but broken. One of my eyes seems to want to remain shut. I can feel the lopsidedness of my face over that eye. Something is wrong. I think he might have broken my eye socket. I have no fucking idea what is going on here.

  I feel the slightest of reprieve from him, it only lasts a second or two between blows. So I start forming my own defensive boxing position from where I am, and trying to once again move.

  “Ah!” I cry out feeling ribs on both sides of my body pop and move awkwardly with the damage done to them. And I still only have vision from one eye. Which is just as well, given the first thing I see, is Addison’s hands and knee coming towards me.

  I’m off balance and uncertain. He’s moving to fast for me to get a lock on him, as he grabs my hair and pulls my head into his upright knee. My whole face shakes with the impact. I can feel my bones ache with tremors and my teeth rattle even as I try and grind down onto them. My world is bloody, painful and tilting. Or am I sliding down the car? I can’t tell.

  “Stay. Away. From. Them.” Addison grounds out between swinging jabs, that I try to mirror and match. Before throwing an elbow into my cheekbone and keeping the spiraling pain in my face and head, on repeat.

  There is a growl, that sounds more like a wounded boy whimpering then a fucking angry animal and I recognized that it is me making that noise. I feel my skin split trying to shift to my werewolf form. But there is a pressure, an invisible pressure pushing at me, holding my skin in place. Pushing the werewolf me, my pulsating anger that I would normally use, back down inside me. Addison’s power is stronger than mine. Something I never knew until just now. He’s anger is mixed with his werewolf power, influence, the werewolves call it, and it’s white hot and strong. So fucking strong.

  And in my struggle for something useful to use to save myself, like air, anger, muscles, ability, I have a thought. It’s of a beautiful woman with warm brown eyes, and shoulder length black hair, sitting at a table, looking across at Addison.

  “Here’s how you dismantle him.” She says before my mind snaps back to the here and now and the unrelenting thrashing I am being given.

  “Bg?”

  I have no sense of grounding or room. Nausea and dizziness are things I never thought would undo me. I can normally fight through that kind of bullshit. But Addison’s influence in holding back my ability to shape shift to heal myself or advance my body to its werewolf self as weaponry, is fucking with me, as much as his physical attack.

  My body feels heavy and I can feel my legs going out from under me, but still there is no ground to collect me. Instead I feel myself lifted up, like he’s pulling me up. Not allowing me to collapse. Like he will not stop until all my muscle mass is nothing more than a limp wet bloody rag of useless. As if to prove some point about werewolves and lycans.

  I feel his hands release me and I know I am staggering, but I am unable to stop and my knee starts going
down and I know if I go down now, I will not get up and Addison will win. And I fight it, trying to remain upright on my legs, panting through the blood bubbling up in my mouth. I can’t see shit, between the blood, swollen muscles and bruising, my eyes are almost closed over. So I close my one good eye and go sideways, staggering, staggering still. I am not upright, I am not down, I have no bearing on what I look like, or where my advantages may lie.

  Which is why I hear the wind change, but don’t know that it’s Addison’ leg, sweeping around to collect me in the neck and make me flop down instantly to both knees until its too late. I’ve never done martial arts training is the thought that goes through my head as my knees hit the ground hard, and one of my knee caps shatter underneath the impact.

  His growl is like a rabid wolf and I feel Addison leap on me and pull my head back, to sink werewolf fangs into the soft pallet of my under jaw and throat. I try to push him frantically off me with my hands. This is a kill shot.

  This is a kill shot. This is a kill shot. I fucking know that much! But my hands feel useless as he hooks those fangs into me and begins to pull back, trying to tear at my muscle. My skin rips open. I hear the wet welching and feel the exposure of air to the wound he is inflicting on me. And I fight, as much as I can under his powerful hold on me. This isn’t the first time I’ve felt werewolf fangs inside me. This isn’t the first time I’ve felt my body torn muscle from limb. That I’ve been torn into. It’s like the most traumatic reminder of how I came to become a lycan, ever. Which is enough for me to make one final effort despite his dominance of me and I dig deep inside me to fuel all my strength and throw Addison off me. Tearing open the gaping wound that is my exposed neck in the process as I feel my skin tear off me in the process. I feel blood spraying out of it hear the blood and air hissing out of me with horror.

  I hear him land on the torn up tar and dirt car park we’ve been battling in. I fight my good eye to open up and give me a blurry vision of Addison’s form, moving again. I hear him stomp towards me again and I try to move, pull myself backwards, find some sort of cover to provide relief from the assault. But I have no idea where I am or anything else is around me in the car park. I feel nothing but open space. A wounded animal’s worst enemy.

  The stinging snap of Addison’s fist hits my good eye closed finally as my head falls backwards hitting the hard ground and he mutters, “You’ll never be their third.”

  I lay down, and be as still as I can. Air is my enemy. My body is struggling to knit itself into any kind of healing mode as Addison lets the wave of his influencing power up, like a plastic bag being removed from a gagging victim. I can hear him spit and his footsteps move away from me. He’s finally done with me. “Stay the fuck out of Manhattan, lycan.”

  The pounding in my head is complimented by the rush of my heartbeat as it pumps the blood I need inside my body, quickly outside of my body. I can feel it oozing between my fingers as I try to keep my hand to my throat. I need to shape shift or I’m going to die. I roll over and start trying to get into a crawling position. I need to focus on shifting to my wolf form and I need to do that soon, need to go somewhere and shift, focus on bringing out my wolf, that’s the last thought I have before unconsciousness.

  2

  I’m dying for touch. For someone to touch me. I watch the large male advance towards me. He’s naked, and impressive, even with a spent cock, sweat glistens across his muscles and he stalks towards me, a stern look across his face. I want to be touched. Badly. Is he going to touch me? I’m ready to beg for him to touch me. I can’t take being coated in the scent of sex in this room. My whole body is straining from being restrained. Tied up, my arms above my head are killing me. My cock is need of relief. He’s had me here, in this room, watching him, fuck. I’ve watched werewolves fuck before in public, but not like this. I’m so fucking turned on right now.

  This room, my role in this room, is so intimate. I never thought of being into bondage before this, but right now, my whole body is tense with anticipation and taunt with need. He’s hit me, ignored me, taunted me and everything he’s done to me has just turned me on and made me harder by the second. I have been worked and I am being used and I am fucking loving it. I dare not take my eyes of the alpha male before me. Because he’s about to touch me, I’m sure of it, I moan into the gag in my mouth. His consort, the dark haired female werewolf, could not contain her own pleasure, just moments ago. I watched him fuck her hard.

  “Mmm, baby-girl?” I wake up in a dim room, my nostrils flaring instantly. My sense are barely awake from my sleep haze and my instincts tell me I’m somewhere I’ve never been before. I can smell wood, and cotton and fur. It’s clean in here, no dust, no chemical smells. I have no idea where I am.

  The sunlight that filters through the windowpane warms my skin and I cannot resist the urge to yawn. Which is weird. I feel plenty restful and that too is weird. My mind is hazy as I slowly open my eyes and look around the unfamiliar room. I’m almost shocked that I’m not back in that room, in New Orleans, the one I dreamed of. I have no idea where I am or how I got here. I have no idea who’s scent I’m picking up on. I try to remember something. But my mind blanks me so I give up and pulling the pillows behind me upright, I plump them up and sit up in the bed which is adequately big enough to house me. Odd, most beds are too small. There is nothing in the bedroom to give away where I am, and all I can see outside from this angle is sky. My nostrils flare and inhale her perfume and scent before she walks into my line of vision.

  Bodil Sommers lets out a heavy breath of what can only be described as relief. She fidgets with the end of her brown ponytail, twisting it, before flicking it away. Her dark brown eyes look worried. “No, Just me Bo.” She says with a small smile back at me. “It’s good to see you alive and awake.” She adds on incase I didn’t get her meaning the first time.

  I smile back at her. “Glad to see you to Bo.” But the meaning is lost on me. Something enormous has happened here and I am at a loss as to what it is, that’s got my best friend so damn worried. She keeps looking at me, like she’s waiting for me to talk first and then when she realizes I’m not going to, she starts.

  “So who’s this Baby-Girl then?”

  “No-one apparently, just a figment of my imagination.” I mutter with a yawn, I see Bodil study me. There’s no way she can tell if I’m lying, she’ll just put it down to me being fuzzy and waking up. “Do you remember anything?”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “What’s the last thing you can remember?” She asks me slowly, as she sits down on the edge of the bed beside me.

  I think back, try to think back. “Pizza and bad movies.” I state at her. She lets out a small laugh nodding her head. “You, me, Boden, Nick, Nilche watching god awful b grade movies at Niche’s on Wednesday night, our impromptu movie marathon night.” She says as every word she says suddenly feels more solid in my memory of it.

  “Yeah, that’s right.”

  “Booker,” She says softly taking my hand. “That was five days ago.”

  “What?”

  “You don’t remember anything about what happened to you?”

  I frown with thought. My head is feeling heavy and hazy. “It’s not immediately clear, no. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, why I’m here?” She picks up my hand and sandwiches it between her two hands. Like she’s delivering the worst kind of news to me, but how bad can it be? I’m here with my best friend, in a for all intents and purposes, lovely, clean room.

  “I got a phone call , telling me to get to the Bronx. I got there as fast as I could. We all did.” She says meaning our friends, our posse. The upper hierarchy of the Breukelen werewolf pack. “I didn’t get there fast enough, you were bleeding out in the car park outside your gym.”

  I can see the concern in her eyes, this is upsetting her but she’s trying to not let it show. I listen to her words and start thinking back. I know the gym, I remember the gym. It’s a hard place, plain place that attracts peop
le who want a hard work out. No frills, just equipment meant for doing the hard yards and getting fit.

  “It’s okay, I’m here now, right?” I say patting her hand with my free hand. She takes a moment to steady herself and her eye line drops before she nods her head and looks back up at my face.

  “Booker, none of us could stop the bleeding or get you to shape shift.” I frown back at her, “Three alpha werewolves, with all the power we have in us, you know what we can do, you were so close to death.” I can see her eyes getting glassy now. “You scared the hell out us.” I feel a little shocked by her emotion. Bodil is normally very reserved emotionally, its part of the job I suppose. Being an enforcer means you have to compartmentalize or get overwhelmed.