Wolves

by Girl, Breukelen

  Tatum sighed and looked at the profile of the man beside her. She let out a heavy breath, she wanted to not be angry around him, he did seem to push her buttons in a bad way. Which was a shame, given he was the only male she’d been this close to and physically attracted to and not worked with, in months. “Okay, how do you feel like Chinese?” She asked him.

  “Take us to Chinatown.” Wiatt replied back to the cabbie.

  7

  “So back at the venue, you said I smelt like newly minted lycan, what did you mean? I mean, I guess I can figure that out, but how, do you mean?” Tatum asked stirring her chopsticks through a white cardboard box as steam danced out of it.

  “I used a bit of deductive logic and scenting.” Wiatt replied picking at a bit of lobster with his chopsticks. He watched Tatum frown back at him as she loaded her chopsticks with noodles and sauce covered meat and vegetables. “The way you act, you seem, well, naive when it comes to stepping on a werewolf’s toes. Either that or you’ve got brass balls, I’m not really sure which.” Wiatt smirked shovelling food into his mouth quickly and chewing. “How long ago where you, you know,” Wiatt asked raising an eyebrow finding he couldn’t say the next words, that should follow.

  “Attacked?” Tatum threw back at him angrily in a low harsh voice. Wiatt held her gaze, he had suspected it would be that way for a female and it made him angry. He had utter respect for women, but he not all wolves did. “Does that loose a little of the mystery and attraction for you big guy huh?”

  “Why are you so angry all the time?” Wiatt asked her back appearing cool as she was angry as he looked into his little white box. “No, that doesn’t make me like you any less.” He said looking over at her. “What happened?”

  Tatum picked up her can of beer and looking at Wiatt sculled the entire thing in one motion. “I went out for the night and this guy picked me up at a bar. I decided to go off to a motel with him. Turned out, that was a mistake. A big one.” She said eyeing his can of beer, Wiatt slid his open beer across to her.

  “What set him off?” Wiatt asked watching her pick up the Asian beer. Her fingers crunched around the can as she stared back at him.

  “Oh so this is my fault? I was asking for it? Is that it? The women is the whore, the guy is not at fault for making her the whore because she wanted sex?”

  “Whoa, whoa,” Wiatt said putting his hands up in surrender. “I wasn’t saying that, at all.”

  Tatum sighed and looked at the beer can. “Sorry.” She picked up the beer and downed a mouthful. “It’s just, it’s not a happy memory, and life since, hasn’t been, well,”

  “Happy.”

  “Mine.” She said holding his eye contact. “There was no indication he was going to werewolf out on me. Literally. I mean, I’ve tried to remember if I said something, did something that antagonized him, made him angry. But I can’t recall, I honestly don’t think I did. We were getting friendly and naked and it was all going like, well, like casual sex does.” She polished off the rest of the beer and slid off her high top stool by the window.

  She’d wanted to die, had thought she would die, and had been left for dead, in a motel of all places. Bleeding out, gasping for breath, exposed and vulnerable. Time had gone on and she’d had no idea how long she’d been there, no one came for her. No one found her. No one looked after her. That was what happened because no one knew she was there other than the motel staff, who clearly didn’t care about her presence, maybe they didn’t even remember it. They probably weren’t paid enough to remember it. Maybe the werewolf male who’d attacked her had killed them. She didn’t know, couldn’t remember all that much.

  Catching the eye of waitress in the restaurant, Tatum waved the can at her before holding up six fingers. Wiatt watched her and waited, unsure what to say. “He turned,”

  “Shifted.” Wiatt interjected.

  “What?” Tatum asked as the waitress brought over a six pack of beer and Tatum handed over cash in return.

  “He shape shifted to his wolf. That’s what we say; we either shift or shape shift. Haven’t you heard that before?” Tatum shook her head. “Go on.” Wiatt encouraged, standing up from his position behind the neon lights of the restaurant window.

  “We were having sex when he shape shifted and he attacked and attacked.” Tatum said as they waved goodbye to the waiting staff in the restaurant and walked back out onto the street. They stood outside and Wiatt began looking for a taxi cab for them. “That was three months ago up in Boston.”

  Ever since the attack, she seemed to lack the ability to orgasm on her own. Tatum got frustrated because of her lack of ability to reach orgasm. But the idea of sex now, with anyone, well it made her feel anxious and frightened the hell out of her. A yellow cab slowed up before them at the curb.

  “Come on, let’s get you home.” Wiatt said walking towards the cab.

  “No need.” Tatum said as Wiatt looked back at her. “I live upstairs, above the restaurant.” Wiatt turned to the cab and waved him off.

  “Well that’s handy.” He smiled looking above the restaurant and back at Tatum. She turned and walked into the narrow alley beside the restaurant.

  “So what happened to the guy?”

  Tatum shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, he ripped into me and left me bloody and dying in that motel. I don’t even remember when he stopped attacking me. I woke up in that motel a day later and realised I had to drag myself out of there. That’s about it.”

  They walked down the alley together side by side in silence, Wiatt with his hands in his pockets as he thought about all she must’ve gone through. Being attacked, left to die and surviving it. Waking up scared and then trying to figure out what to do next, not knowing if the werewolf would come back to finish her off or not.

  “And you don’t know much about how lycans and werewolves work, do you?” He said as she stopped under a fire escape ladder.

  “No. I don’t.” She replied as they kept walking further down the alley. “I mean, I gather there is some sort of caste system in place between the two, and that neither one likes the other one. I’ve had run-ins with werewolves, enough to tell me that much. But that’s about it.” Tatum directed him to the door of the building and unlocked it.

  “So you don’t know how to identify a werewolf on sight? Like how I could tell you were a lycan as opposed to a werewolf?” Wiatt asked her curiously as he followed behind and walked into the building with her.

  “Right, not until you identify yourself through announcing it or through some of your behaviour, I don’t have a clue that you’re a werewolf.” Tatum agreed walking past the lift. “Lift’s out, gotta take the stairs.”

  “What level do you live on?”

  “The top one.” She smirked back over her shoulder at him.

  “Of course.” Wiatt repeated following her up the stairs.

  “Oh and I know I’m definitely not allowed to call myself a werewolf, whatever that’s about?” Tatum humped as she clomped up the stairs.

  “You’re kidding right?” Wiatt said behind her. “You don’t honestly know the difference between the two types of wolves? We really got get you educated or you’ll be dead in no time just for insulting the wrong werewolf.”

  “Hey!” Tatum said turning around suddenly in front of him. She watched his eyes sky rocket up to her face quickly. “I thought we agreed, I wasn’t a charity case.”

  “You’re the one, putting words into my mouth here.” Wiatt said watching her eyes drop to his mouth. He wondered if she’d kiss it.

  Tatum turned around and kept walking up the stairs. “How’s my ass from down there?”

  Wiatt chuckled, he did have a rather perfect view of a hint of ass from two steps behind her. “Perfect.” He replied smiling at her when she looked over her shoulders at him narrowing her eyes on him. “The difference between a lycan and a werewolf is a fairly big one. Would you like me to tell you?”

  “Sure, enlighten me.”

  “Well, werewolves
are born. We’re essentially humans with the werewolf genes and as a result we have abilities lycans often don’t. Plus we have a history, a culture to our race, for the most part we live by packs.”

  “And lycans?” Tatum asked actually curious by his words.

  “Lycans are humans who are attacked by werewolves and get, turned.” Wiatt said watching her stiffen up again. “It’s not supposed to happen, there are rules, laws in place about it.” Wiatt said softly as they reached the top floor landing and Tatum dug out her house key from her handbag. “I’m sorry it happened to you.”

  Tatum focused on the lock on her front door and jammed her house key in quickly. “Not your fault.” She replied clipped, rattling the key around until the door unlocked. Damn him and his sympathy, it was going to make her cry over what couldn’t be changed, what had been done to her.

  “Still, it shouldn’t have happened.”

  “Well it did.” Tatum sighed and pushed open the door quickly before walking in and through the open plan room to the kitchen component. Putting the six pack of beer down and her hand bag on the counter. “Nothing you can do about that now. Maybe you werewolves should police yourselves more than you police lycans.”

  Wiatt mentally kicked himself. He knew he was hurting her, just talking to her about what had happened. Dragging up a painful past that was clearly still very raw to her. But he had to know she wasn’t a fan girl. A theatan, of those that went looking for werewolves to turn them. Those were the worst kind of lycans, that wanted to be werewolves, thought they were somehow going to have some gothically romantic or high octane kicking life bestow them the minute they were turned into a wolf. If they managed to survive the lycanthropy infection, they then found out life wasn’t like a Hollywood movie and they went about causing all manner of hell for werewolves, anyway they could.

  “We do, it’s called living in a pack” Wiatt walked into her apartment and closed the front door. He looked around, the messy apartment he could tell Tatum was sincere in her pain and discomfort over her story.

  She pulled out a beer can and cracked it open and eyed him. “I didn’t invite you in.”

  Wiatt smiled at her. “Well I’m not a vampire.”

  “So you lack manners and just barge into someone’s house without invitation?” Tatum fired off him pulling out a second beer and throwing it at him.

  “I’m policing here, remember?” He said catching the beer in one hand. “I need to make sure you’re the only lycan here and on the up and up. Got to know what I’m dealing with.” He said cracking the beer can open and taking a mouthful.

  “Thought we’d established that.” Tatum replied watching him wander around and look at her apartment.

  “How’s that?” Wiatt asked looking at the colourful, but shabby chic furniture in the main room. There were no photos, no movie posters on the wall, no art. Absolutely no trinkets what so ever, just furniture and space and a pile of clothes and silken material draped over the one chair and the couch in there. There was nothing to identify Tatum personally, there was also nothing there, once you took the clothes away to indicate she was there. Which indicated to Wiatt that Tatum was someone who required fast get-aways. Wiatt’s mind ticked over, she probably had a bag or suitcase or something that was never fully unpacked. Which meant she could up and leave within a minutes notice if she had to. Maybe there was more to this lycan than met the eye.

  “Angry, naive lycan.” She downed another mouthful of beer.

  Wait looked back over at Tatum, he could understand why she would feel angry, given what had happened to her. He didn’t know how anyone who had been attacked by a werewolf like that, couldn’t be angry. Just listening to her story, made him angry. He didn’t like to think his kind did things like that without reason. Most werewolves he knew, most pack werewolves, had been taught control over their werewolf tendencies.

  “I can deal with that.”

  Tatum kicked off her shoes and pulled her ponytail out, so her hair fell down around her face in waves. Wiatt watched if fall and float around her face, framing it, looking away when she caught him watching. She finished her beer and got another one, watching Wiatt wonder around her small, one bedroom apartment and briefly marvelled at how calm she surprisingly felt, to have an unknown male, werewolf in her personal space. Maybe it was tiredness and alcohol. She looked at the beer in her hand. She wasn’t generally speaking, a big drinker, being a bar tender most nights, did not make her want to drink. She put the beer down.

  “So,” She commented watching him return to the main room again and walking back out to the room. There were clothes strewn around one half of he room. But she couldn’t be bothered trying to make a feigned effort to clean it up. “Everything okay with the werewolf police?”

  He put his empty beer can down on the table. “For now. But I’ve got to figure out what to do with you, so do me a favour.”

  Tatum laughed lightly. “Another favour, what?”

  “Try not to get into trouble until I figure out what to do with you.”

  Tatum looked back at him. “I’m not the one causing trouble here.” She growled back at him stepping up to him. Damn him and his superior werewolf attitude. She’d forgotten for a while there that he was a werewolf who wanted her gone, for no real reason at all. Werewolf, she didn’t want anything to do with werewolves like they wanted nothing to do with her. “I’m sure we can work something out.” She said between gritted teeth, stepping into his personal space.

  Wiatt watched her close in on him as he stayed exactly where he was, holding his ground. “You want to negotiate?” He said noting how tense her body was, alcohol should have relaxed her, but he’d managed to piss her off and make her angry, again. He sure had a way with this one.

  “I just want to be left the hell alone.” She stood close to him, but not touching. He admired her in that instant, defiant, determined and strong. But she had a lot to learn, if she was going to live her life as a lycan, in Manhattan or anywhere else.

  “For tonight, I can accommodate that.” Wiatt said taking a step back from her and walking over to the front door.

  “And after that?” Tatum asked, surprised that he was actually going.

  “We’ll have to see. You’re somewhat of a danger to yourself at the moment. And it’s my job to make sure you’re not a danger to anyone else.”

  “Your job.” She muttered softly. “This is what you do in your pack, right?”

  “Right, I’m the werewolf police.” Wiatt said opening the front door.

  “Funny,” Tatum muttered. “I’ve never been in trouble with the police before.”

  “And I’m going to make sure you never are. That’s my job.” Wiatt said back at her, hand on the door knob. “We just got to figure you out.”

  Tatum smiled back at him. “I like the way you make it seem like I have a choice and made me think we were on a date, for a little while at least. I haven’t been on a date in three months. So don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

  9

  Of course he couldn’t leave her alone.

  Wiatt knew he had a responsibility to uphold his duty to the Manhattan Maen pack, it was his job to find out where rouge lycans were and ensure they were dealt with in the correct manner so as not to interfere with the integrity of his pack and their territory, Manhattan.

  But Tatum wasn’t a rouge lycan like the others he’d dealt with. She was in fact, the first female lycan he’d had to deal with, the only female lycan he’d been put in this position of dealing with, which perplexed him somewhat. It wasn’t that Wiatt didn’t know how to interact with females, far from it. But when he interacted with them it was usually in a rather sexual manner. He thought about calling his brother Paris for consultation on the matter, but then looked at the time.

  It was late and whilst most werewolves tended to lives their lives at night, he knew exactly what his brother would be doing with his pack mate Bg, at that hour of night. After the party they’d just held to celebrate t
he two of them.

  Paris was a fairly intense personality at the best of times, add the Breukelen werewolf he’d fallen in love with, Bg into the mix, and Paris’s intensity doubled. Wiatt had the boys had often joked about how obsessive Paris was with Bg to his face. They were of course, only half joking. He knew this because that’s what he would do if it were his pack mate who’d been out of his grasp, socialising all night long. If Wiatt had a pack mate.

  The idea of sex played on his mind as he remembered the view of Tatum’s ass under her skirt, as she walked up stairs before him. He felt his cock twitch at the thought. He pulled out his cell phone and scrolled his contacts list. Maybe he should call Gabby Colton, and try her again.

  The taxi cab pulled up outside of Wiatt’s building and he pulled out his wallet, producing notes for the cabbie before ducking out of the cab and onto the sidewalk. He looked at Gabby’s number and dialled it, noting it went straight to voicemail. Of course, Gabby hadn’t been at the party, because she hadn’t been invited.

  Bg and Gabby did not get along and whilst Gabby was an alpha werewolf in the Manhattan Maen pack and by some sort of right, that should have overridden Bg’s standing in the pack, the reality was it didn’t. Paris wouldn’t allow Gabby anywhere near Bg anymore, not since the alpha female had stabbed and poisoned the younger werewolf female, with silver and left her far away from Paris to suffer through horrible pain. Paris would tolerate Gabby as a pack werewolf, but that was it and as such, his hierarchy of wolves, including Wiatt were expected to feel the same way and act the same way towards Gabby Colton.

  If Paris found out Wiatt was still fucking around with Gabby, all manner of hell and brotherly love would break loose. In public, Wiatt did what was required, he looked out for Bg and protected her when required, and in private when he was horny and if Gabby was willing, and he didn’t want to have to work for a few hours on the groundwork with a female before bedding her, he fucked Gabby instead.

  Wiatt disconnected the call. There was of course Tatum and the matter of dealing with her, that he should actually focus on rather than his hormones. Tatum wasn’t like other lycans he’d had to deal with. She wasn’t deliberately stirring up trouble. She was working, earning a living wage. She wasn’t out partying, wildly and drawing attention to her lycan ways. Wiatt seriously doubted given her parting remark at him, that Tatum partied anymore if she had at all before.