Something is eating away at Milo. Perhaps it’s the stress from dealing with his oppressive older brother. Maybe it’s his low blood sugar. It could be his remorse over the twenty three dead women buried in his backyard. Or possibly it’s the beast inside of him, trying to fight its way to the surface, with or without the help of the full moon.
Something is devouring Milo, and this time it isn’t just his guilty conscience.
Today's guest entry comes from my good friend, TL Decay. He brings us a little flash fiction about some very sexy wolves.
Cycle and Hunt
by TL Decay
Well, what a full moon. Honestly it was a bit high in the night, but not so much that the fur would not appear. No, the fur would be in full force. The fur. Strange how the fur was so desirable. A thick coat, shiny in the moon light. It attracted the wolf, yet repulsed the man. The tail, well that was always a selling point. This cycle was special though.
Cubs were the focus, not the hunt, not the territory.
All of Ryan’s friends knew not to count on him during the full moon. It was a ribbing point between them. Ryan would drift off. Murders would pick up.
Ryan would come back after the cycle and the fraternity would return to poker and drinking. It would also turn to sororities. Ryan would never force a pledge into submission with anything other than his eyes. Most times, Ryan never required the assistance of a drink. He never had to worry about conversation. His eyes brought them to their knees, in willing submission, sometimes in front of the fraternity. The pack.
That was how he operated. That was how the women saw him and reacted. He was a Frosh, a freshman, yet he was the man. He brought in the Alpha Phi, the Beta Sigma, and the Omega. He brought them in and he shared with his pack.
On the eve of the full moon though, he was distant and he left early. This night was different. Only the desperate attended the party. Party was a word that drew it’s own crowd. Tonight was different.
The moon, the cycle, the circumstances were right. Ryan left the dorm early, his fur extending beyond his shirt sleeves in broad daylight. The alpha was in heat, he was on a mission.
The scent was strong, the scents. There was something wrong. Something near. Something in his way.
His fangs grew in daylight on the approach to the wood line. Barely could he contain human form. He needed to defend her, she was his mate. The pack was his, but SHE was his mate. Something threatened. She needed him and she needed him in more than one way. If he didn’t defend her he would lose the pack.
It was hunters. The pure breed. Wolves didn’t discern. The territory was territory. They respected it.
This had to be something different. It smelt sneaky. His claws grew through his boots. Burst through the pawwear roughly. His snout sought out the reference as night grew.
Cats. Feline fuckers. Mountain lion transforms. They endangered the pack. The ability to breed. The ability to hunt. They stalked the same woods. They stalked the prey that produced strong scent. They stalked his wife tonight.
He had to make a statement before mating. He had to take the threat out. Drive them out. They would return after the lesson, that was their nature. He would stake his claim, and his position, and his dominance in one night. He would show her, and the pride, that he was Alpha.
The cat. It stalked, it slinked, it played the winds. It didn’t know he approached from a different angle. He fixed its position on approach to his mate. He sneaked upon the sneakiest. He came so close he heard the purr.
He heard his mate’s howls, but knew he needed to ignore the call. He knew beta’s were waiting his demise. He knew this cat was his offering. He would deliver it like a human male would deliver flowers.
Through the wheat the sought. Though the field he stalked using intellect of the human side and scent from the canine side. Before he launched he came within inches. He felt the tickle of the feline fur on his snout. He felt it between his teeth.
The fight was over before he knew he had begun. He was alpha, the fight was natural.
His lover was named Amber off cycle. She was older. He loved her in day and in the cycle. Tonight he earned her attention through deed and through claim. Their pups would hear the tales in language, and through respect in the pack.
Ryan woke the next morning, in a circle holding Amber. He kissed her neck. “I have to get back to class.”
Amber nuzzled him, “Yes wise Daddy, learn the ways of both worlds.”
T L Decay (T L Dreamer) authors stories to span the spectrum. His stories titillate the scared side or the aroused side by touching on deep fears and inhibitions. He will take you from scared out of your pants to jumping out of your pants for fun. He started writing as a diversion from combat. He has served five combat tours and a peace keeping tour in service to his nation. He began his publishing career by writing story poems that thrill and frighten. Later on, he enticed his readers to bring his poems in to the bed room instead of giving them a reason to hide under the sheets.
You can find him at http://tldecay.blogspot.com/