Red White and Werewolf Read online

  Red, White & Werewolf

  By Breukelen Girl

  Smashwords Edition

  The free prequel podcast series Red White & Werewolf is available from:

  Itunes

  Stitcher radio

  Talkshoe

  More novels by Breukelen Girl are listed at the back of this novel

  © Copyright 2014

  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 Smashwords 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”.

  1

  “Fucking Brilliant.” I muttered between chattering teeth.

  The sun was out but there was no warmth. I was tired. Days in the wilderness between my human form and my tribal form, fighting werewolves I didn’t know. Pairing up with two werewolves I didn’t know, and for what? I didn’t know.

  It was all rather quite frankly, fucked up.

  My pack were far away from me and I was without my pack mate. I’d missed my own birthday because of my own kidnapping. See, fucked up.

  Now, to top off all the shit I’d already gone through, I was standing on the edge of some landscape behind some trees, while my counter-parts, the afore mentioned two werewolves, brothers actually, looked for the perfect car to break into.

  Now we were adding criminal activities to our repertoire.

  Fucking Brilliant. Not.

  Being naked and angry was not my most common disposition. I didn’t have a problem with being naked, even around my two companion werewolves. I had a problem with being angry, upset and cold for no fucking reason what so ever.

  The three of us had been kidnapped, individually. We’d worked that much out. Then drugged till unconscious and dumped in an unfamiliar forest which we slowly managed to work our way out of. It turned out to be rather breathtakingly beautiful.

  The shit you take in at the oddest of times hey?

  Still, scenery aside this was no holiday and I just wanted to go home. But that seemed to be taking time too.

  None of us knew who had put us there or done all this to us. We’d been throwing around theories of course. Because that was how you killed the enemy of time when there wasn’t much else to do but walk, and fight.

  Even if it was with each other.

  But unless you like being angry or that’s you’re natural disposition, then fighting becomes exhausting, mentally, physically.

  Walking becomes exhausting, physically, which makes your mental state depressed, so it was rather like an endless cycle of unhappiness that I’d been in. And for what? All I could tell there was no real reason to it that I’d figured out yet.

  But then, I don’t think I was supposed to escape the hunt I had landed in. Fuckers, under-estimate me. Me and the other two werewolves.

  But someone somewhere had to be getting their rocks off on my current situation, since, they had put me in it. Anonymous kidnapping, fucker.

  Although my two kidnapped companions, Thane and Phelan seemed to take a liking to the theory that I had been kidnapped as some sort of trophy werewolf to compete for or claim.

  The idea of it made me ill.

  My skin broke out into goose bumps each time I thought of it and I shivered. My sister had fought other pack werewolves for the right to be her own, unmated werewolf. I didn’t want to go through what she’d had to do. I was not quite the fighter Bodil was.

  “Bg!” Phelan yells out to me as I look over and he opens the door to a rusty old pick-up truck.

  Thane is grabbing stuff out of the back of the truck. I walk over and he throws a blanket at me. Greasy, oil stained and unwashed blanket.

  Fucking Brilliant, really.

  “Thanks.” I mutter and wrap it around myself immediately. The temperature around here is crisp. We’re close to snow-capped mountains. This is our second car break in.

  When we emerged from the forest we’d been in. It appeared to edge onto some sort of nature reserve or parkland.

  We found a few cars in a small car park nearby and so, stole the first car we could get into. There wasn’t any clothing in the car or anything that could be used for clothing.

  Whilst I don’t have a problem with nudity and walking amongst other wolves in my natural human state naked, I think we could expect a lot of attention if we got into a township, three of us buck naked and wild looking. Humans tend to frown on that kind of thing.

  It’s not the kind of attention we’re looking for. After all, who fucking knows if our captors even realize we got away yet?

  It’s hard to say how many hunters were told to hunt us like we were game, we only encountered a couple. But I doubt whoever captured us, would just sit back and not take part in whatever warped game they thought they were playing. I mean, where’s the fun in that?

  So we’d grabbed a car and driven it as far as we could in one direction. We didn’t know where we are and stupid car didn’t have a GPS and the owner wasn’t stupid enough to leave their damn cell phone in the car for us.

  We’d driven till the tank ran dry, then we’d pushed the car off the road, so it was out of sight. No need to leave an obvious trail for our would be captors.

  Then, because there really wasn’t much other choice, we’d shape shifted and run miles and miles. Into the new night and early into the next morning before finally resting as we came upon a township. Were we had now, again managed to acquire through utter thievery, a get-away vehicle.

  I was still with the two werewolves who weren’t my pack, because for now, they were of use to me. As soon as they no longer were or I didn’t need them, I’d be long gone. Because quite frankly, they were getting on my nerves.

  It wasn’t like I was some damsel in distress exactly. But the way they looked at me, treated me, for the most part, was like it was all they expected me to be. It was insulting, I thought as I slid onto the car seat.

  I’m used to far more respect that either of these two have shown me. Especially since I start-ed dating an alpha werewolf who was also a pack leader of a rather large, and well known New York werewolf pack, the Manhattan Maen.

  2

  Maybe it was because it was edging closer to lunar week that I’d gotten so antsy. That and the fact that I was without my pack mate Paris, who made all the difference in the world to me, especially around lunar week.

  Lunar week to a werewolf was a testing time as it was. The one week of each month that the new full moon came out and in doing so, it affected us. It always affects us. Some more than others.

  I’m not one of those werewolves who copes terribly well with lunar week. I never really have.

  But I’ve always found ways to cope, created systems and routines to help me get through it. I know what works for me now and unfortunately, what works for me is having a pack mate, help me get through the gauntlet of emotions, and physiology of werewolf fucking weirdness that comes with our basic biology.

  It’s hard to remember the last time I went through lunar week without a mate for the week, or when I last went through it alone all together, without pack or the scent of familiar were-wolves around me.

  “You right?” Phelan asks glancing
back at me.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “You’re frowning like hell and grinding your teeth together. You’re not getting sick are you?”

  “Do you want me to pull the car over?” Thane, the older werewolf asks as he keeps driving us.

  “Just drive.”

  “Grumpy isn’t she? Shouldn’t she be more grateful that we helped her escape the hunt?” Phelan says just to antagonize me.

  “Go fuck yourself.” I mutter back at him.

  How many days have I been with these two now? Too long Bg, too long, I tell myself. I much prefer the company of the werewolves of New York. Especially one Paris D’arenberg.

  I wonder where he is, if anything happened to him. No wonder I can’t relax, I mean my home was invaded at night and we were pulled apart, out of each other’s arms. I have no idea what has happened to him.

  I bite my lip remembering the fight.

  3

  My life, is beginning to feel like being in a John Hughes film. The night before my twenty-ninth Birthday and I’m alone.

  One day turning a year older but its like the universe has decided to play a trick on me, Cadence “Bg” Somers.

  It’s decided that I’m going to be alone and the way I am going, probably would be also on my own birthday. I slip into my bed, alone and sigh again glancing at my cell phone and the message on it.

  Paris has sent me a message saying he’s been held up on Manhattan Maen werewolf pack business and he’s going to crash at his pad in Tribeca. Which is all very good and well except that I’m not in Tribeca, or even Manhattan for that matter.

  I’m naked in a king size bed in Red Hook, Brooklyn. Worse still, I’m in need of sexual relief.

  We really have to discuss and figure out living arrangements better. The commuting between Brooklyn and Manhattan pattern we had fallen into is driving me nuts.

  That and I’m horny. Horny for my pack mate who won’t be coming anytime soon to make me come, anytime soon.

  Masturbating won’t work. For one thing, we have a rule about it in our relationship. Paris forbids me to do it when he isn’t around. I adhere to it because I am usually and rarely with-out him.

  The most nights we’ve spent apart from one another was a week and a bit. That had been due to the unforeseen circumstance of him being kidnapped right before my very eyes. Talk about outside the bounds of control.

  Two; he gets off on watching me come and three; I can’t come the way I really want to if he isn’t stimulating my body. It’s maddening.

  I’ve never really had a lover quite like Paris before. He is forever teaching me things and teaching my body just how to respond to them so we both enjoy it. It is unlikely that I’m going to fall back to sleep again.

  Especially now, since I’m rather fixated on sex.

  I contemplate a munchie run and get out of bed. Maybe a munchie run and then I’d just go ahead and break that rule and masturbate. After all, it is almost my birthday and I deserve to be able to get some sexual release.

  I get up and put on my black boy leg shorts and a white singlet top. Maybe I can’t wait that damn long. I’m on my way to the kitchen when there is a rattling at my front door. I stand frozen, watching and waiting.

  I recognise the silhouette of my pack mate before he’s even gotten through the doorway. Closing it behind him, Paris walks in with a sports bag slung over his shoulder.

  “Nice.” The one word came out heated and full of lust as he looks at me. We walk towards one another. “Feel free to greet me like that any time you want.” He leans towards me and kisses me.

  Its a warm firm kiss that makes me stand up on my tip toes and press into him. Paris scoops me up quickly in his arms.

  I kiss his face and neck as he carries me back to the bedroom. “What’s in the bag?”

  “Never you mind.” He half smiles at me.

  “Is it presents for me?” That earns me an ungracious landing on the bed as Paris throws me down.

  He puts the bag down before he starts undoing his shirt. I scramble back up to kneel before him and assist with the removal of his shirt. He is magnificently solid and muscular.

  “Thought you couldn’t make it.”

  “I was teasing.” He replies kicking off his shoes and undoing his jeans. “Like I’d leave you alone if I had the choice.”

  I smile back up at him. If I’d been in my tribal werewolf form, I’d have been wagging my tail right then and there.

  “Lower,” He states as my fingers work on the middle buttons of his shirt, whilst he works on the upper ones. “Lower,” He repeats.

  I feign innocence and then give up on the buttons and hooks my fingers into the waistband of his black jeans. My fingers brushing the sensitive flat of his lower abdomen and the teasing hit of hair. He growls back in his throat at me.

  “Lower?” I ask him as he finishes unbuttoning his shirt and I yank him forward, off balance by his jeans, so he falls above me onto the bed.

  Paris lands softly and on both arms, without squashing me. Between fast building kisses we pull his t-shirt, under his shirt off of him. My fingers are just about to start working on his jeans fly when he freezes, suddenly and tensely above me. At first I am too caught up in the moment of our reigniting passion to know what is going on.

  What is it? I ask him in a soft voice, telepathically as he hovers, his lips against mine, but not kissing me. His eyes darting to the side as if to indicate.

  Then I see the problem.

  There is a gun of some menacing kind, directly behind Paris’s ear, resting between it and his head.

  What do you see? He asks me telepathically as to the outside world, we remained stationery and silent. Frozen to the spot.

  I catch my breath as my eyes gaze upon the black masked figure behind the gun. Intimidation is the first word that sprang to my mind.

  He looks like something out of a movie, where covert operations send people into buildings dressed in black, anonymous military style clothing. Nothing about the figure with the gun is identifiable, even the gun holder’s eyes and face are covered up.

  “Get up. Slowly.” The hidden voice of the intruder orders Paris.

  Bg! Paris snaps at me to get my attention again. What do you see?

  A figure, dressed in black nondescript clothing, at least six foot, looks like male figure guessing by shoulders and lack of breasts. The gun is some sort of automatic looking one. I reply back at him.

  “Get up slowly and you both get to live. Try anything and we’re going to find out if a werewolf is faster than a speeding bullet.”

  Intimidation doesn’t work on Paris, nor did empty threats we could see through.

  Is he holding the gun with one or two hands? Paris asks me. Paris began to pull back from me physically, very, very slowly.

  If this intruder is threatening us with death, it is just to get our compliance, if he’d wanted us dead, he’d have killed us already when he’d managed to silently break into my house and catch us by surprise. Even I could figure that out.

  Two hands for beginners I mutter back at him through my mind.

  The intruder has already indicated two vital things to us, he knows what we are and he needs us alive. Advantage us, yay.

  Paris’s lips, are no longer pressed against mine, his arms are no longer bent to the sides, they are straightening up as he pulls back.

  I want you to clear out of here. Just get up and out of the house, I will find you later. Don’t go to your family’s house, it might be compromised too. Don’t go to anyone you know well.

  Before I can I tell him I will head to a Breukelen pack safe house, Paris moves, twisting swiftly around to grab the gun and spin the intruder off balance and to the side. Sending him flying into the wardrobe.

  I scramble backwards and off the opposite side of the bed reaching down into the bottom dresser drawer as Paris and the intruder started trading blows as the gun is twisted around and thrown aside.

  It isn’t exactly the first instinct
of a werewolf to flee a fight. Rather it is to surge into the fight and fight it out.

  But I had no problem following Paris’s lead when it came to evasive manoeuvres and urban fighting techniques. He’s seen more fights than I ever have or hope to.

  His reputation for being pack leader of the Manhattan Maen was neither without reason nor entitlement.

  Besides the smart play would be to have some sort of plan and to know what exactly we were up against. Rather just be in a fall back position of reacting which left us without much advantage to use at all.

  Paris growls somewhere further back behind me and I hear the surprise gasp of pain from the intruder, I see a flash of claw and blood before I focus back on my own well being.

  I pull the drawer out and grabbed at the cloth at the bottom of the draw and produce what I liked to call my cheats, two Sai weapons.

  My father gave them to me when I was a teenager and made me train with them. I glance over at Paris who is wrestling and throwing punches under the intruder’s arms, into his arm-pits and chest. They’re fighting is blocking my preferred escape path out the doorway of the bedroom.

  Armed, I look around my room and run over to the bedroom window and opened it quickly. Straddling it, I slid out the window, dropping to the cold earth underneath it. I pushed up from the crouch landing and started to run, Sai in my hands.

  I don’t get far.

  The sound of something flying through the air registers with me and I knew better than to look back.

  I kept my eye on the goal I want, the street ahead of me. I kept my arms pumping as I ran forwards towards the sidewalk.

  But I never make it that far.

  I felt small projectiles hit me in my back, and the sting of a tranquillizer dart pierce my thin barrier of clothing into my skin with force.

  Bile rises up in my throat as my legs refuse to keep up speed and instead loose balance and slow down, staggering me, till I drop to my knees and then to chest.

  The last thing I see is the sidewalk going blurry in front of my eyes, seconds before the tranquillizer substance kicks into my blood stream and blackness me out and I lose consciousness.