A Wolf in the City

6. But not with her.

DANTE.

On getting off the ship, I zoom off in my white tesla to my home which is at the outskirts of the city. Closer to where it had all begun, where it had happened. Where my pack had been subjected to ill treatments they never deserved, where each and everyone of them had been killed off by the devils they never expected.

As I drive to my house on top of a hill which had been bought by father, to accommodate me and give me a good life while we carry out our plans, I pass by that building yet as usual. Father had intentionally gotten the huge house that is closer to it, and I see reasons why too because every single time I pass by this building to or from the house, I am reminded of why this mission is very important. Of why I am doing, why I have to do this.

The abandoned house which looks burnt, after so much quiet and reflective time, has discovered the company of the trees and wildflowers that brought brightness right up to its doors and windows. The house has rescued itself by sleeping in the walls, by retreating into the welcoming wood away from the dust. It stays there with the memories of its birth, of the hugs and laughter that once were its colours and music. So though the floors were bare and the paint was off and dark, in need of loving care, though the house stand still without the warmth of its family, it stands all the same, strong beneath the flakes and dirt of years.

I slow down even more as I stare at the house, the presence of it causes my insides to shrivel, memories surging forward, reminding me of all the times I had no power. Of all the times I was forced in positions where pride and respect didn’t exist. All the nights I laid in bed as an eight year old cub, fresh from the midst of werewolves, new in the midst of humans and grieving the death of my whole pack, wondering why on earth the moon goddess made me survive. What I had ever done that was so wrong?

My stomach rolls and heaves, bile burning up the back of my throat, as my mind spins from the flashbacks. I’m surrounded by the pack house burning in flames, and humans throwing the bodies of them back into the fire. I am surrounded by my biological father telling me to run away as fast as I could, away from the flames, away from the arrows, gunshots and wolfsbane. My chest squeezes tight at the sound of his pocket watch, the tick, tick, tick, bleeding into the still of the night as he places it in my palms just before I was suddenly yanked away by Father Davis.

Rage unfurls from the middle of my stomach, thick and heavy, bursting through my insides, blinding me from the explosion until all I see is fire. And soon I can't take it anymore so I have to park by the house and run as fast I can. While I run, my skin keeps tearing due to the spikes from the woods around, blood starts coming out but I didn't care as I finally shift into my white wolf form and run some more.

Hours later, I shift and get back into my car then I zoom off to the hilltop house. Adrenaline is causing every cell to spark under my skin, my blood pumping fast, and my c**k hard from the rush of the run. There’s something strangely gratifying about running around in my wolf form, it is a type of thrill that can’t be replicated. One that courses through your insides and makes you feel untouchable. Infallible. Like a god.

I cover myself with yet another new robe in the back of my car and it ends up being instantly tainted by the blood on my body as usual, I go into my house and climb up the staircase, taking the steps two at a time. He pass the second floor where some cleaners are already rounding up on their jobs so they can leave at the time they are expected to. He pass the third floor which has a most of the rooms in the building. Yet, I didn’t stop until I am in the enormous fourth-floor attic.

I discreetly pull the attic door closed behind me. I grab a plastic bag and strip off the blood-soaked robe to have to burn by myself later. Changing into the spare clothes I keep hanging in the closet, I sit down in my chair, kicking my feet on the desk, and light up a cigar, basking in the earthy taste. Clicking on just the computer screen causes the entire room to light up as computerized pictures, videos and lines shows up around my room as if it is being projected.

I pull up a photo of Raven Martinez , desire cramping my stomach when I zone in on her face, imagining what it will feel like to have her underneath me. To have her submitting to me fully before I break her and send her back to her father as a broken doll. I groan, palming my c**k over my pants as it pulses behind the zipper. Raven Martinez is a delicious treat, and I can’t wait to enjoy every bite.

“I hope the weather didn’t make your journey too tedious.” A feminine voice suddenly speaks behind me.

I don't need to look back before knowing who it is. Adalee.

"I hope the little witch and five devils didn't get you too annoyed. Were you able to get close to the b***h?" She throws questions after questions despite not being answered by me.

I watch her strip in front of me. Her small breasts bounces lightly as she walks to me. Her hips are slim but they don’t curve out as the witch’s. I close my eyes and see the blonde hair falling down her back and the sea blue eyes. I want the little blonde. Even my c**k hardens at the thought of her.

“I think you need to rest from the tedious day, don't you think?” Adalee walks up to me and put a finger to my lips.

“And I will rest.” I say as I look away, desire and, yet, disinterest etched on my face. Obviously unhappy with my sudden aloofness, Adalee then kisses me. She stands on her tiptoes, place her soft hands on either side of my rigid face, and pulls me down to her lips.

Though I am just barely cooperating, it is still a most intimate kiss. Afterward, Adalee looks quite hungry for more while I only stare at her, my eyes heavy-lidded yet watchful. She whispers, “There’s no need for you to be so distant, Dante. Not on a stormy night like this. I promise you, it will be far better to let me keep you warm than to go to your cold bed alone, don't you think?”

I found Adalee hiding in a cave years back, and I had been so shocked to find out that she was also one of my kind, I had been so excited that we still had a werewolf of the opposite s*x that I ran to meet my Foster Father to let him know of this but then he had not been as thrilled as I was. Not even a little, especially when Adalee had said that her mother was a rouge who died ten years after she was born and how they had both lived away from the pack because her mother had been banned for an offence she committed.

Father didn't see any reason why she should be adopted into our midst, he had said she would be a source of distraction that I didn't need. But soon enough, he surrendered, especially when he saw how deeply engrossed Adalee was in me and he thought we could use it to our satisfaction, by using her to help in a lot of things which Adalee herself was more than eager to do.

As I watch Adalee's tiny n*****s twist into tight buds while she sits before me. I can't help but smile because even though she thinks we are fated and what not, I know that I do not feel as she feels for me. not even in the slightest.

I watch as she settles herself on the chair before me and her little fingers tugs at her n*****s. The pink buds pucker and she lifts one to her lips, twirling her tongue around it. I watch as she put her small fingers into her tight little cunt too.

"You’re such a greedy little one, aren’t you?” I stated flatly as I finally get off my seat and move closer to her. I place my hand over hers and make her stop. I do not, however, remove it.

“So should you be too, love.” She licks her soft, full lips.

“You haven't gotten any in months . . .” She whispers hotly, “Has it truly been that long? My God, I can't wait to see what a raging bull you will be . . .” She adds.

I just look on, as if I am actually trying to divorce myself from her charms. She began whispering again. “I know you want this... me." She says breathlessly.

“Hm.” I simply let out. Yes, I do want this, but not with her.

My gaze left hers and wanders down to her bosom where several mahogany curls rested in teasing disarray. I pick up one curl and rub it between my strong fingers. Watching, Adalee smiles slyly, “I dressed my hair just for you. Do you like it?” She asks causing me to smile cynically.

“It’s scented, Dante. I even rinsed my hair in rosewater. Here, put it to your nose.” She guids the hand that held the curl to my nose. After a moment she sighs. “Do you not like it? You don't seem...”

“It smells good.” I quickly say as I drop the curl.

“So you like my hair then?” Adalee would continue like this so I catch her mouth in a fierce, impatient kiss. And she gasps with pleasure every time my hands came closer and closer to her skin.

I watch her small fingers encircle her little snatch and enter it. She is dripping wet and her hairless p***y glistens as I admire the lips of her v****a. Soon, we are both naked on the huge beautiful bed.

She moved to me and brushes her hair across my c**k. Her fingertips moved lightly along my shaft. When I make no move towards her, she leans forward and touches her lips to the pink head. It jerks in reflex and she envelopes it with her lips. Her tongue swirls around the c**k’s head and down the shaft and she moved along its length.

Afterwards, she presents me with a coy, mysterious smile for she knows that flirtation is her art, but she is bewildered by my reaction. Even though we are entwined in a most intimate embrace, I am now impossibly distant and utterly unreachable.

With only one intent apparent on my features, I kiss her again, while a certain blonde is still etched in my mind.