The Wolf Subdued

The Hunter and the Hunted: Book
One

The Wolf Subdued

By

Riley Colton

Copyright 2013 By Riley
Colton

Smashwords Edition

The club was alive, the packed
humans on the dance floor giving the place a life of its own. Their
heartbeat was the music thumping from the overhead speakers, its
blood was the sweat of the men and women grinding against each
other, and its soul the passion and desire in the air.

Harlan Flynn stood off to the side,
just out of the ring of dancing flesh, taking it all in with a
smile and looking for the one he’d seen before.

The scent of their passion in the
air, exuded from their bodies in the form of pheromones, was
invigorating and captivating. If only the humans could smell it the
way he could, he thought with a wry grin. It was nights like these
that he missed his pack the most. His brothers and sisters would
have reveled at this display of human debauchery. The wolves would
have been, for that one night anyway, one with the
crowd.

There was no more pack, though. He
was all that was left. It was time to either move on or die and
Harlan was not ready to face the long sleep yet.

He stepped into the throng of
dancers, grinding in rhythm with them, moving from man to woman,
back to man, back to woman, dancing for a few moments, tasting the
occasional sweat from a neck and feeling the firmness of flesh.
Harlan found the one he was looking for and paused to admire a
muscular man writhing in more than dance with a woman on the floor.
He was not the least bit shocked that her panties would drop to the
ground and he'd enter her in front of everyone. The woman was
beautiful. Her red hair cracked like fire around her pale skin as
she straddled the muscular man. Harlan was sure she was the object
of desire of anyone in the room, man or woman, but she was not what
intrigued him the most.

The man was huge, towering over the
other dancers by a good six inches, and, from what the predator
could see, there was not an ounce of fat on his hard lined, muscled
frame. His clothing was tight to his body, moist with his sweat,
and displayed every corner of the man's hard edged frame. His
shaggy blonde hair flailed as he pounded the woman to his crotch
with the sheer strength of his upper body and his chiseled face was
locked in an expression of sadistic glee. He’d seen the man on many
occasions coming to the club and always there was some display of
dominance on the dance floor. The man, and his pack of fellow
humans, considered him an Alpha. Harlan aimed to prove them all
wrong.

The woman screamed out each time the
muscled blonde pounded her down onto his crotch and Harlan could
only assume that the man was very well endowed. Here was a human
who considered himself a predator, Harlan thought, a man who took
what he wanted. He was the perfect specimen of a human man and
Harlan thrilled at the smell of that dominance in the man's
stink.

Here was gift he could take under
the glare of the full moon, an offering worthy of the Goddess as
she bathed the night in her loving embrace. He felt the moon's pull
even inside the packed confines of the club. One more night he
would be free of his human form, free to roam the streets in search
of human kind. He could imagine the muscled blonde man chained in
his basement, aghast in horror as he watched Harlan's
transformation to the wolf and then the sweet screams that would
follow. He smiled. It was always good to have a meal prepared in
advance of the hunt.

The couple climaxed simultaneously
much to the delight of those who, like Harlan, had watched in
perverse fascination. There was even a small cheer as the muscled
Adonis discarded the red headed woman like yesterday's leftovers
amid a round high fives and shoulder patting from what Harlan was
sure were the man's pack. The woman looked dejected, scooping her
panties up from the floor, and stormed off, pushing her way through
the new groupies who hoped to get a piece of the action. One of the
blonde man's friends handed him a drink and Harlan took that
opportunity to step in, snatching the frozen concoction from the
sweating man's hands.

"What the hell?" the big man asked,
his face streaked with sex sweat.

"I'm thirsty," Harlan said, staring
down the man's friends.

Harlan was not large in his human
form, by any stretch of the imagination. But he was fit. He had the
body of a runner, tall and thin. His bunched muscles pushed out
against taunt, dark skin and his dark shoulder length hair only
barely concealed the hawk like features of his face. He was sure,
to the muscled blonde man's pack, he didn't look like much. They
circled around him, eyes darting back and forth to their leader,
and again Harlan missed the comfort of his pack. He pushed the
thoughts of their demise from his mind, instead concentrating on
the blonde Adonis in front of him.

"Get your own damn drink," the
blonde man said, stepping forward and attempting to retake his
errant beverage. Harlan stepped quickly to the side when one the
other men reached forward. Harlan took his arm with his free hand
and pulled him in the direction he was already going, using the
man's own momentum to fling him to the other side of the ring and
into one of the other would be attackers.

"Really?" the blonde man asked. "You
want to do this? You want to fight right here right now? Didn't you
see what I just did?"

Harlan shrugged as yet another of
the man's pack leapt, intent not on taking the drink but instead
knocking him to the ground. Harlan quickly sidestepped again,
holding the drink aloft with his right hand, and catching the
assailant in the throat with his outstretched left hand. The man
collapsed to the floor in a heap, suddenly winded.

"I don't want to fight," Harlan
said. "Though I don't mind it. I'd much rather take you somewhere
and fuck you," he said with a shameless grin, "and then chain you
up in my basement."

The man's eyebrows twitched,
intrigued, and he smiled. "Oh yeah? And why would you want to chain
me up in your basement?"

Another of the half dozen mean
jumped at Harlan. Once again he merely sidestepped, leaving his
left leg outstretched and tripping the man who fell to the floor,
joining his other friends. He still hadn't spilt a drop of the
drink.

"I’ve been watching you, and,
honestly, I like what I see. Tomorrow night is a full moon," Harlan
began. " I’ve lost my pack. I think you might be a worthy addition
if you survive.”

The muscled blonde man laughed out
loud. "Oh, is that right? You're going to change into a wolf or
something? Is that it? And then you’re going to turn me into one as
well?"

Harlan shrugged. “It is what it
is.”

"Fuck it Frankie," another of the
cohorts taunted. "He’s a fag. I’ll take him.”

The big man, now with a name Harlan
thought, shrugged and the other stepped forward, fists upraised.
Harlan lightly tossed the drink into the air, spun gracefully with
his leg upraised, and connected with the man's face, sending him
whirling away into the crowd. He caught the drink on the way back
down, still not having dropped an ounce of its contents.

Frankie smiled in appreciation.
"You're good, I'll give you that. But what makes you think I swing
that way?"

"I don't really care if you swing
that way or not," Harlan replied. "I do swing that way, on
occasion, and on this occasion I want you."

Frankie smiled broadly once more and
waved his friends off. "Leave it," he ordered. "I'll handle him.
You ready to go outside and finish this?"

Harlan grinned back, showing canines
that had elongated both from the desire he felt in his crotch and
the coming onset of the full moon.

#

Harlan pushed Frankie up against the
brick wall in the alleyway separating the club from the parking
lot, relishing in the feel of his firm flesh, and kissed him
passionately. The muscled Adonis tasted every bit as good as he'd
smelt back on the dance floor and the night air, free from the
cigarette and pot smoke of inside the club, was
invigorating.

"How did you know?" Frankie asked
between gasps of air as the two locked lips.

"Know what?" Harlan replied,
greedily undoing the man's belt. He could still smell the redheaded
woman on the big man's crotch and the scent only served to thrill
him further.

"That I go both ways? None of the
guys in there knew that."

"I told you I didn't care," Frankie
said, his hands underneath the man’s skintight shirt and reveling
in the hard lines of his muscled abs. “I told you I’d have you,
that I’d fuck you, and that I’d try to convert you. You might not
survive... no, probably won’t survive. It’s an honor I’ve chosen to
bestow upon you. You serve the Goddess with your sacrifice and it
doesn’t matter if you enjoy it or not,” Harlan said as he kissed
the man fiercely again. “Though I supposed if you do enjoy me
fucking you silly that’s just a plus, right?”

Frankie laughed, ignoring the
implicit threat as if it were some sort of game. “What if I want to
do the fucking?”

Harlan’s hand drifted down the man’s
stomach, into his pants, and onto his member. “No. I think you’re a
cocksucker, aren’t you? You like flesh in your mouth. You like the
taste of a man’s sweat.”

“How did you do that trick with the
glass? Shit... you didn’t spill a drop,” Frankie asked again,
apparently mesmerized by the short fight in the bar. “You fight
like a natural and make it look way too easy. You do
MMA?”

“It doesn’t really matter,” Harlan
whispered in the man’s ear, pushing him down with a gentle
shove.

Frankie skipped all pretenses and
went right to Harlan’s crotch, deftly unzipping his pants and
pulling out the member. Harlan was hard - he was always hard before
the full moon, and Frankie took it in his mouth like a champ,
swallowing the whole thing to the base. Harlan’s head bumped back
against the wall hard, but he ignored it as the big blonde man
pulled hard at his dick. Harlan ran his hands through the man’s
hair and then, getting a good grip of the golden mane, and thrust
against it. Frankie took it in stride, sucking harder and faster as
Harlan pushed. Suddenly, though, a scent in the air caught Harlan
by storm and he panicked, pushing the big blonde man away from
him.

“What the hell, man? I could have
bit your junk off,” the dejected cocksucker complained.

“Quiet fool,” Harlan ordered, the
old painful memory coming back to him in a flash. He saw the blood
and fur, the horror of his pack dying while he could do nothing
about it.

“Are we doing this or what man?”
Frankie asked, getting to his feet.

Harlan ignored him, searching the
dark night around the club for the source of the scent. Had he been
in wolf form the hair on his back would have stood strait up and as
it was the hair on his arms and legs did. He uttered a guttural
growl full of anger and past hatred but the human form wasn't
nearly enough to transmit it well enough. Harlan turned from the
muscled man, crouched low, searching for the cause of the new
smell.

“What the fuck, dude?” Frankie
complained. “You’re taking this werewolf shit a bit too far. It was
cute and all, but fuck.”

"I smell you, vampire," he growled.
"I know you are there. Show yourself."

Something blurred past him, between
he and Frankie, and knocked him to the ground. Frankie gurgled
wetly and Harlan looked up at the ripped mash of skin and cloth
where the vampire had raked his clawed fingers across the man’s
chest. The big man went into shock at once and slid to the ground,
convulsing.

"You hunt my father's land, wolf,"
the faceless voice said from the night. "You hunt where you do not
belong."

The accent was foreign and old, very
dignified sounding. He wondered what royal court the vampire's
father had turned him from so long ago. They old ones were the
worst, he thought, steeped in their traditions and images of
Stoker's Dracula. Even in the modern age they tried to carry on.
Harlan preferred the newer generations, the ones who didn't hate
the packs so much, but it was it was. There wasn't much he could do
about it. Once turned, all vestiges of family and their previous
life vanished. Harlan knew the vampire wasn't talking about his
human father. He also knew that the vamp talking about his father
meant he wasn't the head of the coven in the region. His heart
pounded in his chest and he wished the moon were full tonight. As a
wolf in a pack he'd have no trouble taking the vampire. As a lone
wolf, as he was now, he might have a shot. As a human, and a gifted
and supernaturally strong human at that, he didn't have a shot in
the world. Negotiating might work, he thought.