Asher.
He smelt heavenly. I felt my wolf bristle as he walked by me. My heightened sense of smell could still pick the alcohol from last night on his breath and the dried up pee in his pants that he hadn't bothered to change.
And the fear. The fear smelt delicious.
I didn't want to think of him as prey. It was generally in every werewolf’s interest not to think of humans as prey. But him? Him I wanted to hunt down. I wanted to box him into a corner and watch him cower and beg. Then I'd draw close enough that he'd feel my breath on his neck. He would shiver in equal parts delight, and terror as I run my hand up his chest and wrap them around his windpipe.
His lips would be soft, drawing me in. Begging for more. His hard…
"Aw Goddamit, Dean!" I spoke to my wolf internally. Those were
