Tag: werewolves

NEW WORK-50 DAYS OF NIGHT (Coming soon!)

I know we are about 4 months from Halloween, but as the benevolent being I am, I wanted to announce this work soon to come starting September 12, 2022!

As a horror fan who desires more representation of the melaninated, this project will be a set of 50 short stories—one story per night for 50 nights. The 50th night ending on Halloween—as my writer girlfriend Tonia says is Goth Christmas.

For this project there will be vampires, Reapers, werewolves, witches and all matter of other mischief of my own making.

I will give you this teaser—you will need to follow every night, otherwise you will be lost! Remember, I wanted you.

I am excited to bring this work to you, I am so proud of it, and I believe you all will love it too!

With An Heir (Narmon)-#9

The amshuns had come to see me early the morning. The sun was still red, but yet I was covered in a sheen of sweat. The closer Tzipporah had come to birth, the harder it had become to sleep. I wondered if my brother, now my Alpha had experienced the same thing. She was his mate, not mine. It was his child, the new heir, which was theirs.

There red robes looked like an Egyptian plague. The Grand Amshun, was always the oldest. This was Tzipporah’s mother. The other amshuns were her cousins, Makara and Henjah. “Get up, Narmon.” It was her mother’s voice in my head. As my eyes adjusted to the predawn light, I saw them. All with some permutation of Tzipporah’s face and eyes.

“Get up, my Prince. Get up!” It has Henjah’s voice. I had thought to make her mine before Leah had grabbed my attention. I sat up, making no attempt to cover my chest. I smirked when  the Grand Amshun nudged her nieces to remain focused. “Narmon.” her voice was morose, as she always seemed to be. “We know about the bond.”

I was silent as a weight settled in my chest. “I need to know if you were with Tzipporah before she was fated to be with Farron.” I stared at her, held her eyes. She knew I had been. She didn’t need to ask what she already knew. I only blinked and nodded. Her mouth moved then, her voice real and palpable. She kept her hood on, an spoke, her words like acid in my ears. “You need to tell me how. How many times. And why!” I heard the rage below her decorum. I never liked her mother, she always spoke to me as if I wasn’t the oldest. “It was moment of passion after her father died, your husband.” I wanted to tell her more, but thought it best not.

“Your moment with my daughter, ” she swallowed, keeping her eyes on me, never leaving the foot of the bed. “The mate of our Alpha, has caused an errant bond.” I closed my eyes, wishing she would go away as quickly as she had come. “That is a superstition Ahandra. Errant bonds don’t exist.” I opened my eyes an saw her eyes shift from brown to gold. “This is why you were not chosen, and could never never be Alpha!” I stood to my feet, wrapping the white sheet around my waist. “This was all your doing that I am not Alpha! You loved my father and hated my own mother!” She moved closer to me, her flanking nieces staying at the foot of the bed. “You are not Alpha, because you were chosen not to be.” her voice was cool as she approached me, eyes still gold. “You are not Alpha because you are not an Alpha.” She dropped the hood of her cloak, the gray and black length of her hair framing her face. “Your father  knew when you ran away before the Consecration for your Beginning, you could not be Alpha.”

“Liar!”  I turned my back on her, feeling as she was seeing what was happening on the inside of me. “And you now turn your back on your Amshun!” There was thunder in her voice. “This errant bond between you and Tzipporah must be severed! Errant bond can only be servered by the oldest Amshun and the Alpha.” The words stung at me, opening memories and wounds.  My Concsecration. My night without Leah. My night with Tzipporah. Both of us broken. I thought nothing of her after. It was only after she was with Farron did it all matter. I couldn’t get her off of my mind.  She was in the Open Plane. I could smell her when I woke. She robbed me of sleep.

“Have the dreams lessened?” It was Makara’s voice. “I know they haven’t. You know that during the Beginning, our kind are most sensitive.” I kept my eyes to the window, feeling the tears come as I was too stubborn too before. “You have bonded with the mate of our Alpha, your brother.” My heart began to break at the truth of her words. “You need to renounce her in order for Narmon to have her totally.”

My body, with all it’s strength, committed to not moving. Renounce her in order for Narmon to have her totally. I fought back the wolf, phasing would change nothing. Ahandra spoke again. “Her birth will be soon. The heir will be born to the rightful Alpha.” I turned to face the three of them, feeling the snarl in my chest. “She belongs with Farron. She is his mate.” Henjah spoke, her eyes green rather than gold. “We are looking for another Alpha to break the bond.” Ahandra spoke, her voice resonating. “But you must renounce her.”

They turned to leave. Henjah, Makara and Ahandra. As the door shut, I fell to the floor and howled. “She is an errant bond?!” I howled. My mind and body rejected. If this be true, I knew there we cases of weres whom died when they had to renounce a bond, because of the pain. It is said errant bonds can kill a were more than anything known to our kind.

Ahandra had been The Grand Amshun for more than a century. She knew this. Ahandra had sounded my death knell.

With An Heir (Farron)-#2

I felt him before he called her.

Tzipporah was mine. She had been since we were so much younger. I had phased in front of her. I had marked her. She was mine. Who did my brother think he was. I splashed river water on my face, thought of her cinnamon brown face. I thought of her hair, how she smelled always of jasmine. I though about the night I had counted the eyelashes on her right eye. She was mine.

I remembered the conversation I had with my father the week before. “Farron, I know he is after me. I want you to know the mantle is yours. I know you are the younger, but the mantle was yours.” I remembered how week he had sounded. The age then evident in his voice. I could  only picture him, attended to by his second wife, haunted by visions of my mother, Ariah. He sounded far away as he continued to speak. “Come home son. Come home.” I walked back to my cabin, the hallow, as Tzipporah called it. I wanted her near me.  I wanted the comfort of her body. I wanted her taste, I wanted to be inside her again. I needed her.

I tried to connect with her two morning ago, and I couldn’t get to her. I sent my essence form to her as a comfort.  I knew she could feel my pain. I needed her to know I was okay. The Open Plane was the only place I could have her, keep her safe from Narmon. I had to keep her safe from Narmon. “Not this time!” I felt the wolf inside of me shift and groan. I placed my hands on the ground, felt the heat radiate from my belly and down my arms. I closed my eyes, ready for the wolf to take over. I couldn’t handle the loss of my father, the Second–my Alpha as well as my Chosen.

I knew that Narmon still had attachment to her. I knew that with what she carried she was more  susceptible to that connection. My body began to phase, the hands that caught footballs, and freed slaves became paws. My nose a snout and heard my voice quiet and the growl come from my throat. It was easy to think in this form. It was easier to plan and think when I was hunting. I had noticed a group of rabbits along the other side of the river, and once I was fed. I could think.

******

I sat on the side of the full-sized bed. The bed Tzipporah and I picked out. I thought about the last time we were together. I thought about how ample her breasts were. How sweet her lips were. I thought about how she was on top me, all of me impaled inside her. “Tighten.” I had growled. I kept my right hand on the small of her back. I nipped at her chest. I felt her body open and her release imminent. “Please, love. Please!” With a firm swat on her rump, I heard her sing my name through the walls of this cabin. I knew what Narmon would try to do when we got home. I knew what the elders would say.  I knew that the mantle ritual would take one week.

I stared at light of the setting sun on my feet, still covered in grass and dirt. “Not this time brother. Not this time.”

With An Heir (Tzipporah)-#1

The Second was dead.

The mantle is was to be passed to Farron was to be made the Third on the next full moon. This was custom for weres of my land. The Second was the Alpha, and had been for a century and more. There was no disease or illness in him. The fact that he was gone from us, so soon, and so suddenly was devastating.

I felt his death, the weight of his loss before my phone rang in my house in Myrtle Beach. I knew who it was before I picked up the phone. I felt rocks settle into my stomach as I picked up the phone in my bedroom. I heard his voice, and all of me roared. “Love.” His voice was low, hungry. I felt heat wrap around me, like his arms were around me. I swallowed. “Narmon.” Silence. I heard him sniffle, and breathe. “What is it?” I forced my eyes open, the warmth of the connection was lulling, dizzing me. I sat on the side of the bed, willing myself to keep breathing. “You shouldn’t be calling me.” He didn’t answer me.

“Tzipporah.” It was a growl then. The same way he growled the first night we were together. The night where he found out I was his, I was his Chosen. The imprinting is always made stronger with lovemaking. I closed my eyes and laid back, the warmth caressing my neck. “You need to come home. You need to be here. You are an amshun.” I felt my eyes water. “The Second is dead. The Third is to be crowned. As the amshun, you need to be a part of the Council.”

I couldn’t breathe. I listened to him go on about the history of amshun, and weres. I heard him plead for me. The tears flowed down into my ears. His voice faded, as my mind went to the Open Plain. I saw Farron, focused on him and his dark skin, and his over six-foot-tall frame. I saw his beard, his gold eyes. I heard his voice louder as Narmon’s faded. “Tzipporah.”

My eyes opened. “Either I am getting you a plane ticket, or I am coming to throw you over my shoulder and bringing you to Nambia.” I stared at the ceiling. “Narmon, I will talk to Farron and we will be on our way. Give me a few days.” There was a low growl. I rolled my eyes. “I need a few days. I’ll be there.” I put the phone on the receiver. I rolled on my left side, closed my eyes searching Farron and the warmth again. I knew who I belonged to. I knew Farron felt what I did. I had no idea if he would confront me about it later.

I knew that he was out at his hallow, he had been since the death of his father. He had left me a note the morning it happened. No warning. No kiss. Just a note. I felt my chest ache. I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to see Narmon. I didn’t want to melt in his gold eyes.  I didn’t want him to touch me, see me or feel my presence on the plane.

I had to go home. And I had no choice.

Mate For Life (short short story)

Image result for werewolf

It was raining as he watched her skip over a puddle to her front door. Her hair was wet, but he could see her pecan brown face. He watched her fumble for her keys in her red bag, before going in. He had found her, with her scent he could never forget her. How could he? She was what, what whom he had sought for and wanted. As she entered the house, he fought the urge to watch over, by watching sneaking in to watch her sleep. He would announce himself to her soon enough. “Soon, dearest one.” He whispered. His mind went back to when he saw her three days ago. He was leaving work, it was just after sunset. She had with a coffee in one hand, glasses, reading a book. She sat In the back of Gill’s, smiled up at him. She had a heat that exuded from her. He sat across from her, soaking her up, taking her in. He motioned for one of the servers to come to his table.

He wasn’t hungry, just thirsty. A blue shirted red head named Callie came over. “Beer, please.” He said. “Budweiser, okay?” “That’s fine.” Callie dashed off, pencil behind her ear. He looked over at her again, noticing her eyes were brown. This scent he knew, his tribe leaders had told him and the other young men coming of age. It was a hint to whom was to be yours, they would always say. The inception, he said, will be unlike anything before and nothing since. You will know the one purposed for you. Their scent will be a clue. Legend, he thought. Fairy tales. It takes more to know someone than liking their perfume or cologne. That’s insane.

He watched her sip her coffee, her full lips wrapping around the blue mug. Her eyes closed. Her lashes were thick and dark. Her dark hair, framing her face. Her legs slender, muscles detailed under the blue pencil skirt she wore, ending in black ballet flats on her feet. He counted how many times her chest rose and fell. He sat and felt his heart all but stop. Callie dropped off this beer, asked him if he needed something else. He didn’t look up, but paid for his beer and well over with the twenty he gave. She looked over at him, smiled. Her eyes pulled him in. He held them for a moment, before she looked down again. She didn’t seem to notice or mind him staring at her. The blue wall above the brown paneling just made her stand out more. The want welled up with him, was beyond sexual. It was beyond possession. It was protection of what was his. This must have been the love the elders spoke of, that one would just know once they experienced it. She returned to her cup and her book. When the server brought her check, he watched her reach in her red bag to pay it. He watched the form of her arm and shoulder as she reached for her wallet. She got up, and he saw her full height and shape. He noticed the backs of her calves and her waist detailed by her skirt.

She tipped the server, and he watched her turn to leave. She smelled of violets and honeysuckle. His mouth began to water as he began biting his lip. She was it. He couldn’t explain it, it was too radical to talk about. He drew a ring around his Budweiser watching the foam. The heat creeping up the back of his neck, a low growl rumbled in chest. He got up to go to the bathroom, pushing past the blonde texting on her cell phone without looking up. He shut the door behind him, before going over to the sink. He gripped the front of the sink. He felt the pull in his shoulders, indicating the wolf was rising from him. “Not here. Not now.” Phasing in public was not unheard of, but with this new feeling, this unfounded inception, he was hesitant of his ability to control it. Hold it together, Michael. Hold it together. He looked up into his own changed reflection. The calm blue of his eyes, became their green-gold counterpart. He concentrated, willing to pull the wolf back in. Her I have to find her. Feeling steady, he smoothed his University of Miami shirt, smoothed his hair. His forehead glistened with new sweat, as his eyes reverted back. He had to talk to the elders. He had to have her. He would have her.

That need brought him to her apartment. He could find her in snow or desert. She was his now. His. He looked for her light to go out, remarking at the silhouette of his intended against the gold curtain of her bedroom. He remembered the shape of her hip. The rise of her breast as she turned from the window, and loved the way she shook her hair out before turning off the light. He closed his eyes, imagined her taste, her warmth underneath him. He even imagined what it would be like to phase in front of her and have her stroke his fur, or nestle her feet in it. The inception will be like no other love you will ever have. The elders spoke this to generations of young males of their pack. There would always be eye rolling along the males, the girls accepted it as medicinal gospel. “Scoff now,” the elders would say, “when you experience it? It will be impossible to explain it or pull away from.” He checked his reflection in the rearview mirror again. His eyes were phasing. “Soon.” He said. “Soon.”
(This may be the start of a novel…Stay tuned)

[originally written 9/7/2018]​