Wolves At The Door Read online

  Wolves at the Door

  By Breukelen Girl

  Smashwords Edition

  © 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.

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  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”

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  1

  The moon was pale in the night sky and his heart pounded. Blood rushed through his veins and he breathed white clouds of fog.

  His legs pounded the cracked and broken pavement but he didn’t care. He felt small in the universe under the image of the large moon and that was the way he liked it, or more correctly, had grown accustomed to liking it. Lunar week was a few hours away and all it did was remind Hooper Parish of what he was. What he’d become.

  A lycan, hybrid being who succumbed to the animal instincts and drives of the wolf that flowed through his veins. Whilst dragging down his base needs to being the only thing he could focus on and think about. He panted and looked up at the old but not yet derelict building that appeared on his horizon as he jogged towards it.

  Lunar week and all he’d want to do would be jack off continuously or hump almost every male in sight. It tortured him and annoyed him at the same time. It was maddening to be so driven by some primal need to mate.

  It was like no one or nothing could truly satisfy him for long. He opened the building door and hit the stairwell, avoiding the lift all together. Probably a wise choice considering the lift looked like it could break down at any minute.

  Being a lycan made him feel vulnerable in a way he thought he’d never escape. Soft and easy pickings.

  “That was what made you a lycan in the first place.” He panted out loud taking the stairs two at a time. Maybe that was why he hid out, lived, in The Bronx. Because apparently nothing soft came out of the Bronx.

  The saying of the faded poster from the gym he’d been in was still on Hooper Parish’s mind as he ran up the last flight of stairs in his building, with his sports bag, slung heavily over his back. Banging against him, tenderizing his kidneys in the process. Hooper grimaced.

  He had to keep in shape. He’d been lax about it lately. But since being called on by his big brother to help a lycan in danger, who had turned out to be Tatum, Hooper had started re-stepping up his game. His kidneys could deal with a bruising or two.

  He’d been grateful for getting to meet Tatum. Not under the circumstances they’d met, but he liked her, a lot. Which was saying something, considering he’d been living in the Bronx since he was fifteen and he counted her as his only friend, next to his brother Booker.

  My brother’s always telling me I need to talk to someone about it. Two steps.

  “Why do you think he says that?” Tatum had asked

  Two more steps

  "Because he knows what it’s like. Going through the whole experience, having to deal with it, and it changing not only you and everything about you, but you’re life too. We were attacked together.

  Was there a day he didn’t think about the attack, about being a lycan anymore? Hooper focused on the steps under him, clocking up another two.

  “Are you jealous about your brother’s standing?” The question she'd asked popped up in his head. Another two steps creaked under his weight as he ran up them. “So you’re angry at your brother for being able to move forward and make his own choice?” He reached the landing and moved around it and up. Head down.

  “So you’re jealousy of his choice to join the Breukelen, do you think it springs from a need you have to not be alone, to be like you’re brother in a relationship, with someone?” More stairs. He honestly hadn’t expected Tatum to be so damn insightfully quick on the intake. Or so confronting with him. He almost thought she’d been playing psychiatrist, he hadn’t expected her to actually get in his head. Two, four, another landing. Almost at the top.

  “An animal of vengeance.” He'd replied. He rounded the landing and headed for the last few stairs, till he got to the level his apartment was situated on. “That’s how all lycans are made. Through vengeance.” Sweat was starting to drip in his eyes and his hair was hanging down in his face as he puffed heavily hitting the top landing again.

  But don’t worry, because nothing soft comes out of the Bronx. Maybe that was why the lycans lived there. Because they had to be tougher than their werewolf counterparts. Life in the Bronx wasn’t exactly a free ride.

  Stepping into the hallway that lead to his apartment, Hooper flicked is hair up and looked down the hallway. He needed a haircut and to know who the hell that was at the end of the hallway. The male at the end of the hallway was lounging, across a couch that was taking up the end of the hallway and most of his apartment’s doorway entrance. It was angled to fit into the narrow hallway. Between Hooper’s apartment and the empty apartment opposite it.

  The black haired guy's arms were spread out wide across the sides of the couch, his head was down, and his long black hair, hung down either side of his face and onto his bare, tattooed chest. His hard, bare chest, Hooper noted looking at it and studying the tattoo on it. It took up half the guys chest. It was some sort of tribal tattoo, and it was as mesmerizing to look at as the guy who was tattooed with it was.

  He kept walking towards his apartment. Eyeing the guy who was sprawled out across the couch. He looked like he might even be sleeping. His jeans clad legs were also spread wide as he lounged, seemingly unaware of Hooper’s presence.

  Hooper’s eyes ran over him, trying to assess if he was a vagrant crack head who thought they’d settle in on the top floor of his apartment building. Or if the guy was in fact, moving into the vacant apartment opposite his own.

  The apartment had been vacant for quite some time and Hooper hadn’t heard anything about it getting a new tenant. But then again, why would he? He was just a lowly lycan tenant, he paid rent to live in his apartment, that was about it.

  Black haired guy’s eyes lifted and he looked up and over at Hooper as he put his key in the door lock and turned it. His nostrils flared as a look of recognition flittered across his face briefly in passing. Not so fast that Hooper missed the look.

  Had the guy just scented him? Figured out he was a lycan? Could he do that form that distance between them? If he could that had to make him a werewolf.

  Hooper disliked werewolves.

  2

  Werewolf. Hard body. Hot. Hot werewolf hard body. Damn it! He was going to go talk to the exotic hard body in the hallway. He was curious after all. More than curious. Especially since his “Gaydar” hadn’t picked up anything on him. Mr exotic was cool as fuck. And there was just no way in hell, that Hooper could resist that.

  The whole cooler than hell image of the black haired male lounging in the hallway, just fuelled his mind and he tweaked his crotch quickly. If he was going to go through with his plan, to casually grab a beer with the guy then he was going to do it, without a raging hard-on.

  He’d showered and changed into his best jeans. Dark blue with bleach stains and rips in the denim. The jeans th
at were his secret weapon in landing any damn guy he wanted. Well, the gay ones anyway. It worked, every single time. He’d never once been let down when wearing these jeans. Not once.

  The jeans were tight and hugged his ass, showing it off perfectly, along with his package and the outline of his hard, muscular legs. It also screamed gay, so Hooper thought. So if the guy needed a clue about him, this was it without saying it.

  He was towelling drying his hair when the knock came at his door. Hooper froze and let out a nervous breath There was a second knock and Hooper put the towel down on the bench top of his kitchen and looked around, grabbing his basket ball top as he walked to the door barefoot.

  Hooper opened the door and almost fell directly into the face of Mister black haired, brown eyed, tall and exotic. He was leaning in Hooper’s doorways, leaning in to the doorframe. So much so that Hooper pulled up short of bumping his face. Damn it!

  “Uh Hi.” Hooper mumbled flustered by his lack of swagger around Mr exotic. His hair falling in his eyes again.

  “Hey,” Mr exotic replied as Hooper noted he was now wearing a t-shirt over that chest that he had so admired before. His eyes dipped onto Hooper’s bare chest and back up to his face. Hooper looked over his shoulder. Hooper noticed an accent on him.

  The couch was gone. His eyes darted to the apartment door behind them and back onto the black haired male’s face again. Maybe he’d moved it while Hooper had been in the shower.

  “I was wondering if there was any chance I could watch the game?” He replied looking sheepishly at Hooper and straightened up. Flicking his long black hair back over his shoulders. “Don’t have a TV yet.” Hooper looked at him and still got no sense of anything from him.

  “Knicks, or Mavericks?” Hooper asked back at him quickly.

  Black haired exotic smiled at him widely. “Knicks, of course.”

  Hooper nodded his head and opened his door completely. “I’m Hooper.”

  The other guy smiled at him and reached for his hand, shaking it. “Your play?” Mr exotic asked reaching for his hand.

  “Yep, how I got the name.”

  “Ah, earned then. Thane.” Hooper shook Thane’s hand keeping eye contact with him the whole time. “Come on in Neighbour.” He said as Thane walked in and looked around. Closing the door Thane walked past Hooper who was slipping his Basketball top on over his head quickly.

  “Don’t get dressed on my account.” Thane muttered heading for the couch and television holding up a six pack of beer as Hooper looked over at him in stunned silence. Which meant one of two things. Either he was a werewolf, or a lycan. Because the wolf scent wasn’t able to be picked up by nons. They might know of werewolves and lycans and shifters, but he’d yet to meet a human who could scent, any of them by smell.

  Hooper wasn’t great at scenting, but he bet if he inhaled deeply and got a bit closer to the guy, he’d be able to tell which he was. But Hooper was only able to do it accurately, up close. Much closer than his current proximity to the demi-god lounging in the hall outside his door.

  Fuck. Demi-god? He shook his head. Definitely a wolf then, not a shifter. Hooper's brain seemed to be hard wired to fuck, and think about it more than necessary most of the time. Ever since he’d become a lycan, it’d somehow become the thing his wolf brain, tended to want and to focus on, the most.

  So when he was around another wolf, his focus became somewhat tunnel like and his body attuned to the wolf way of things. Or he could just talk to the guy, if he was a werewolf, the usual arrogant attitude would show through soon enough. He wouldn’t be able to stand being around Hooper.

  Deep brown eyes watched him as his chest rose slowly up and down, in a naked, rhythmic beat of utter cool and calm. Shit, had he just zoned out day dreaming about the exotic wolf god at the end of the hall? How long had he been standing at his door, key frozen in the lock, looking back at the guy?

  Nothing soft comes out of the Bronx.

  The male looked quite comfortable where he was and at the same time it made Hooper think of a king on a throne. Jesus, why had he thought that? The guy didn’t look like royalty, he looked…exotic and hot and cool as fuck.

  Fuck. It’d been too long between partners for Hooper Parish. Was he being gifted this exotic male on his doorstep, was that it? Or was his luck finally changing and he was going to have a hot neighbour living across the way from him. No that wouldn’t be it. If the exotic was his hot neighbour, he was bound to be straight, just to put Hooper in some perpetual state of horny misery. Look but don’t touch! Especially since the black haired male was exactly Hooper’s type, exotic.

  Hooper liked ‘em male, Latino, black, American Indian, pretty much anything exotic looking. It was what his wolf self liked, and he had to admit, the wolf had style. His and the exotic looking back at him. Fuck! Was he still staring at the guy?

  Hooper felt the need to adjust himself coming on, he resisted being so damn obvious. Instead he swung his sports bag around to his side and grabbed the strap over his shoulder.

  “What’s up?” Hooper muttered at him as calmly as he could manage which was a lot calmer than he felt. Black haired hot guy pointed to the apartment door nonchalantly, locking eyes with him. Hooper opened his door and stayed where he was side on to the lounging male, standing in his own apartment doorway. The guy had to be far too healthy and hot looking to be a junkie. Still, why was he camped out in the hall? Hooper looked back over at the opposite apartment door. It was closed. Maybe he was locked out.

  So he wasn’t worthy of words or even a grunt. Hooper was betting the exotic, bare chested, black haired hottie was a werewolf. That couldn’t be good. Still he should at least try and be neighbourly and get them off on the right foot. “Welcome to the neighbourhood.” Hooper replied eyeing him over again before walking into his apartment and closing the door.

  Hooper rested against the door and tweaked his crotch, willing it to calm the hell down as he dropped his hand away. Shucking off his sports bag he started to head towards the bathroom. He needed a cold shower and a cold drink, which made him think of the exotic again.

  Perhaps the hot exotic guy in the hall could do with a cold drink, that and a hard fuck. Hooper closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Stop thinking sex. Stop wanting to fuck. Stop. Stop. Stop. He’d been on the top floor by himself for far too long if he was thinking of entertaining the idea of fucking the guy next door.

  His cock twitched. Fuck. He opened his eyes and breathed heavily. Moving couch’s was hard work, Hooper was witness to this by the fact that the hot exotic guy was topless out there. And hard work surely earned a cold beer. He looked over at his fridge. Hooper had cold beer and it would after all, only be the right thing to do, it would be downright neighbourly.

  3

  Hooper sat on the couch eyeing Thane out the side of his peripheral vision. Mr exotic seemed relaxed and quite comfortable where he was, watching the football game play out on the large screen television before them.

  Possibly gay then, Hooper decided. Most straight guys wouldn’t sit that close to him, so that his hands scrapped along Hooper’s thighs as he lifted them to reach for his beer.

  No straight guy would then put his arm around the back of the couch and effectively close to Hooper’s shoulders also. More than likely he was bi-sexual, that was probably it.

  Hooper didn’t know what to do. How did you do this again? It’d been so damn long since he’d been so close to a male like Thane. He had stopped dating and trying to get a relationship quite some time ago, when he realized he could just get the sex if he truly needed it when his hormones got the better of him.

  But this, this thing with Thane, dancing around one another, it made him over think everything and then stress about what to do, or not do. They’d been watching the first few minutes of the game in nothing but utter silence, and Hooper momentarily thought, Thane was serious about, just watching the football game.

  Shit. He had to salvage the situation from going all frien
dship-zone on him. He wanted his neighbour, and not in a let’s be friends way. It’d been quite a while since he’d come across an exotic who excited him like this, like he wanted more than a quick wham-bam, thank-you-man situation.

  “Hope you don’t mind.” Thane said Hooper breaking into his thoughts suddenly. Hooper looked over at him, Thane was still looking at the television.

  “Uh, no it’s cool.” Hooper replied trying to be cool, himself.

  “Do you like pizza?”

  “Uh, yeah, sure.” Hooper replied.

  “I was getting hungry from all the moving, so I ordered a pizza before I walked over here.” Thane said looking at him.

  “You ordered a pizza to be delivered to my apartment, not yours?” Hooper asked with a smirk. “Confident weren’t you?”

  Thane’s mouth twitched and he tried not to smile back at him. “I just figured with the sports gear, the Knick’s top there was a good shot you were a fan and watched the games.”

  Hooper’s eyebrows shot up. Thane had noted what he’d being wearing to work out in. “And I figured if you said no to beer and basketball, you’d probably assume I got the apartment numbers wrong if the pizza guy then turned up and direct him across the way.”

  Thane looked at him holding his gaze. “So no harm, no foul.”

  “Bold.” Hooper muttered softly. Thane smiled at him. Oh fuck-yeah, Hooper was back in the game here!

  “Is it just you here?” Thane asked.

  “Uh, yeah, this palace is all mine.” Hooper replied with a wry smile. Thane looked at him then.

  “I think it’s bigger than the one over there.”

  “Really?”

  “Slightly bigger, but then, maybe it’s how you’ve styled it.” Thane offered to him.

  “I guess, could probably do with a stylist.”

  “More than the minimal going on over there.” Thane replied throwing a thumb in the direction of his apartment.