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Quake

book_age18+
2
FOLLOW
1K
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murder
dark
sex
shifter
kinky
transgender
enimies to lovers
supernatural
tortured
mxm
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Blurb

Tucker is a gay, trans male werewolf living in Black Reef City. When his human lover is murdered by his Alpha, Tucker flees to the Knuckle Mountains to live among the feral wolves. After a year of grieving, he returns to the city to find it is now the territory of a new pack, lead by the infamous pureblood wolf, Damascus Quake. Can Tucker safely navigate his dangerous attraction for Quake and shed the shackles of his past?

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THREE MISTAKES
Disaster is born from the smallest of missteps. Something as simple as forgetting to shower has the potential to destroy everything, given the correct circumstances. Tucker stands in the doorway of Klaus’s apartment and many tiny decisions run in a figure eight track through his head, linking together to form the infinite train of calamity that steamrolls though the wreckage of his life. He thinks about the night that he and Klaus met. He was alone in a bar, Klaus was too. Klaus sat next to him and ordered two drinks. That was the first mistake. They had chemistry, and Tucker decided to roll with it. The s*x was amazing, the conversation was amazing, Klaus was amazing. Tucker had never met a human like him. He was one of a kind. There was not a shred of malice in him. He hid nothing from Tucker, and Tucker had no choice but to hide everything from him. Six months passed in a happy blur, and Tucker thought he had everything under control. Yvonne smelt nothing, knew nothing, because Tucker made sure to shower and change or wash his clothes before returning home every single time. Until the one time he didn’t. Tucker takes a deep breath, and with it comes the scent of blood, spinal fluid, s**t and death. And worse than that, the peppery scent of her. The door stands just slightly ajar. He reaches out a pale, shaking hand and pushes it inward. He is met by a blood-spattered wall. He pictures Klaus, smilingly opening up, expecting to see the small, narrow-eyed welp he fell in love with, standing in the doorway. He was met instead by Yvonne. He would have been confused, but only for a moment. Given a little time, he might have recognised features in her, the sharp angle of the jaw, the leafy forest green of the eyes, the angular slant of the nose, the curly auburn hair. Traits that Tucker shared with his elder sister. But Yvonne did not give him that time. The night before, Tucker forgot to shower and change. He came home, and Yvonne smelt the human on him, in him. She smelled the coffee they shared and the times they’d f****d that morning. And she said nothing. Tucker steps across the threshold. The apartment is not refreshingly cool like he knows it to be from all his time here. Now it is cold. The blood spatter continues along the walls all down the hallway, in that tell-tale pattern of jugular spray. It is typical of Yvonne to go for the throat. She likes it that way, to feel the attempted breath of her pray be snatched up into her own, powerful lungs. Shaky legs carry Tucker down the passage, to the bedroom at the end of it, to the pool of blood on the floorboards. Klaus’s jeans and t-shirt are scattered around the room in ribbons. The houseplants, lovingly looked after and flourishing, have been watered for the final time with the blood of their father. Their leaves drip with it. The white curtains, open wide on the scimitar moon and the glittering city below her, are now red. The bed is red, the spines of the books on his crammed shelf are red, the shaggy carpet, the paper lantern overhead. Nothing escaped the spray. Everything is red. But there is no body, there are no pieces of Klaus left. Tucker’s knees give out and he falls, landing in the pool of blood, the final remnants of the man he loves. Yvonne ate Klaus. There is no doubt in Tucker’s mind. She tore and chewed and swallowed every last scrap of him. She will s**t him out later. And it’s all his fault. Yvonne followed his scent, straight to Klaus’s door. Tucker screams, and it comes from his gut, stronger than breath, louder than his own mumbling voice could ever strain. In the apartments around this one, the residents hear what they describe in the weeks and months to come as the cry of a dying wolf. And in their way, they are right. The police later link it to the disappearance of Klaus Argot, but in truth he died in silence, Yvonne made sure of that. Tucker sobs. His transformation begins involuntarily. Bones crack and knit, skin tears and stretches and spreads. His skull pushes forward, his teeth sharpen and harden. His chewed down nails sprout into claws, his toenails cut through his sneakers. A tail pushes out over the top of his jeans. In minutes, a lean, fiery red wolf lies where a distraught young man knelt before. He laps at the blood.  In the days to come, he hates himself for it. But in the moment, he cannot deny himself that final taste of Klaus. And then he runs. There are reports all over the city that night, of what appears to be an especially large fox, darting across roads, though yards and back alleys. Some people even manage to catch footage of it on their phones. The geography of the string of sightings leads authorities to conclude the creature was fleeing the city, headed for the mountains. They see it as no cause for concern. No link is ever made between this animal and the disappearance of Klaus Argot.

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