Wolf Desire: 5 Delicious Alpha Wolf Shifter Tales (6 page)

On the ground, the two wolves grabbed each other with their feral snouts. It was absolutely terrifying – a wolf version of a dog-fight – a fight to the finish! They swirled at each other in a fury that the dust from the ground accumulated in the air. I couldn’t see them!

I heard a loud painful yelp before everything went silent. From the dust clouds emerged a human figure.

“My territory. GET OUT!” Angelo barked at the wolf lying beaten with its tongue out.

Angelo limped towards me.

“You’re safe now.” He said while collapsing to the ground. I ran to him, put his arms around my shoulder and walked him out of the park.

I wanted to take him to the hospital but he wouldn’t let me. “I don’t want them to notice how fast I healed.” He said.
 

When we got home, his shoulder wound had gotten a lot smaller. I ran upstairs to get the first aid-kit but when I returned he was already walking around to the fridge getting milk which he downed in one round of chugging.

“Claire...” he said.

“Angelo. Are you ok?” I said rushing to embrace him.

“Ow! I’m not fully healed yet.” He said smiling wincing in pain.

“What was that about?” I said as we both crashed on the softness of the sofa.

“Now you know my secret. I guess I should have told you that before. I’m a wolf shifter, Claire. I can turn to wolf on command. I know it’s crazy. I know. I know. I should have told you. I was planning to. I didn’t want you to find that out like that.” He said in an earnest tone.

What does he want me to say? I mean I loved him even if he turned to a frog.

Hugging him tightly, “No worries your secret is safe with me.”

“But does that mean that if we have kids – that they’ll be a shifter too?” I don’t know why I asked. It just came so sudden.

“Heh. I guess we’ll have to find out.” He said his shoulder now almost completely healed.

He put his arm around me, resting them on breast. He kneaded my fleshy mounds, kneading, then squeezing them. I felt desired. He was really good at that.

“You’re going to make a lot of milk. We’ll need lots it.” He said with a look of concern on his handsome face.

I smiled. There was a rumble in my tummy. He placed his powerful hands on my belly and kissed it softly.
 

“I’ll have lots of milk.” I said. “Don’t worry.”

Eastern Wolf
(Interracial Werewolf Romance)

By Clarissa Black

Copyright © 2014

When the door closed behind me I wanted to scream. Yes, scream at the top of my lungs to have finally landed a dream gig after all these years. The door did indeed close behind me, and when I was sure the padded-wall of insular Teflon would prevent the sound waves from traversing the hallway, I let out a soft shriek of excitement.

Now let me get my act together first. Time to be professional at this. At least try to look the part. A check for my leather chic boots with mandatory three-inch heels. I was wearing a meshed shoulder topped blouse and an office mini-skirt to complete the sassy young professional look. Of course I had my thick framed glasses to give me an intellectual flair.

I could barely contain my excitement as I lunged towards the living room of my company sponsored digs in the middle of… wait. Where was I exactly? I was somewhere in Omaha. Cow country. I mean my designs, architectural Asian archetypes had a market in the strangest of places. Whatever, when my boots came off I crashed jumping up and down celebrating the first crucial step in fulfilling my aspiration of becoming a top notch architect.

I spun around freely in the living room of my designer pad. Hands in the air and not a care in the world.

Ring Ring

Back to reality. I have to be professional at this. Always professional that’s who I am.

“Hello,” I said as I managed to wrestle my excitement and land on the soft designer couch. “This is Cindee. Speaking?”

“Hey Cindee. How’s cow country?” Jazzy had always a knack for the side jokes.

“Just arrived. What’s on the agenda? Have we met the suppliers for the technical sketches on site-plans?” I loved those words. Agenda. Suppliers. Sketches. All those glorious technical architectural terms.

“Well Cindee. You’re not going to like this. But that project had been cancelled.” She said.

“Ha! Ha! That’s a good one Jazzy.” I said knowing how to volley jokes from the queen trickster of HR resources of the contracting firm whom I worked for.

“Well, hate to break your eggs but I’m dead serious. The original plan of working for the Garden-Parion group had been put on hold.” The Garden-Parion group, a renowned architectural firm, was a great way to finally enter the highly rigid male dominated space of architectural consultancy.

“I hope you’re not kidding Jazzy. I need this.” Yeah I needed this. I’ve been slaving away in one of those supplier bunk outs, droning to carry the plans of the master architect. It was a dead-end job. I needed to build my own portfolio already. I needed this. It’s now or never. I had actually quit my job to make the final leap to work as a design contractor.

“I’m not kidding. I’m sorry Cindee. But these things tend to happen with large companies.” She said knowing that I had already quit my fulltime job to pursue this dream. “If it’s a consolation, I have another project that I think you will be a great fit for.”

What a crash. Here I was thinking everything was going well for me. Finally, I thought to myself, I had a shot at being an actual architect. But realities sets-in: I still needed to pay for my bills and I was in where exactly? Omaha cow country.

“Are you interested in transferring to another contract? It’s based on the same location where you are. A little drive but you’ll be fine.”

“Ok Jazzy” I said as I reeled from the pronouncement. I mean I’ve already told my friends and family about my venturing into making my own designs. I guess I was just a stupid girl who never learns. But what the heck, I’ve always been fighter, I’ve always fought for all of what I have. I didn’t exactly come from the best background.

“The new contract is located just ten miles away from your location. It’s for a Japanese meat packing facility. Newly opened facility that needs someone of your expertise.”

“You mean milking cows Jazzy? How on earth am I going to contribute to a meat packing facility?”

“They just opened.” I heard the soft voices calling her out from the back. “Listen. They’re looking for someone who can do sketch work for a building they’re constructing. Funny thing is when they were looking at your resume they picked you exclusively among the rest.”

“Picked me? What on earth for? I have no business butchering cows.” I felt a little aggravated already. I mean surely they needed an engineer or maybe an animal specialist. I’m an architect not a rancher. My job is to construct and incorporate aesthetic components to structure. I love design. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do. An outlet for creativity, as opposed to just slamming on the phones with suppliers acting as I was a cog to the machine – the fate of many who enter this field.

“Well they specifically asked for you. Listen I got to go. If you have any questions you can always contact me. The name of the company is Tanada meat processing facility. I’ve sent you the details in your laptop.”

“Sounds good, Jazzy.” I said sighing dejectedly.

“Keep your spirit up Cindee. I’m sure this will be valuable for you in the long run. If you need anything, like I said, just call. K bye.”

The soft cushion of the couch caressed me. Tanada. That sounded familiar for some reason. I got up and typed the name on my laptop. A professional like myself will always know about her clients. When the search query returned the results, my eyes widened with surprise.

--------

Growing up, I was always the shy type. I guess that’s what happens when your dad had been a victim bystander in a deadly gang shooting. I was the kid who instead hanging out in the basketball court after school, instead hung-out in the library.

Hideki was an exchange student from my high-school. From the moment he arrived, I knew he wasn’t going to fit in. I mean how could he? Most of my classmates were the rough thug types who were on the fast lane to a career behind bars. On the other hand, Hideki was a reserved mild-mannered smart kid from overseas. Surely, we all thought, there was a mistake in bringing Hideki to our school.

But we were assured our school was chosen specifically by the family of Hideki. On his very first day he received a warm greeting from our school – an organized reception to at least make ourselves presentable. We had balloons and cake and a small sign welcoming him with an American flag in the background. Everyone from the principal, teachers, janitors, and us students got a part of the cake. It was a happy day when everyone crowded on the young man from overseas. I saw a glimpse of him. And I thought he was cute.

Then on the second day was when the bullying occurred.
 
Of course the guys in my schools were jealous of him, or insecure of him, or just wanted to lash-out. They apparently took him in the locker and gave him a nice beating, screaming “Welcome to America.”

I felt bad about it. Especially since I saw him limping in campus with a bruised eye. As with kids, the crowd started moving away from him, leaving him in a foreign country with very little friends. Friends except me.

How I met Hideki was rather interesting scenario. After the bullying, Hideki was sent a personal bodyguard, an older Japanese man who the kids called “the Samurai.” This man had a stolid face and a silent demeanor. The only remarkable thing about him were his sparse movements. His unmoving eyes expressed no emotion as he waited every afternoon for Hideki at the exit of our high school.

I was particularly interested in his fluid rigidity. There was something aesthetically pleasing about his simplicity. One day, I decided to stay behind to watch the man. When the final class-bell came, Hideshi was nowhere to be found. The school had cleared out already, but still no Hideshi. I could see the
Samurai
peering inside the building. I too was growing impatient, so I did what I thought I wouldn’t do: I went inside to start look for Hideshi.

The school was eerily empty that afternoon. I heard mumbled sounds in the hallway from the gym. Clutching my books, I followed the mumbled sounds of racial slurs. By the entrance of the locker room, I saw shadows of wild thrashing movements. I didn’t know what came over me, maybe a sense of American justice from my history class, but I stepped inside the boy’s locker room. Nervously, I entered.

I stopped right in my tracks when I saw Hideshi. He was surrounded by at least ten other guys. With one of the biggest guys holding his arm behind him, pinning him down so that he was kneeling to the ground. I could barely see Hideshi’s face from the amount of guys crammed in that locker room, but I saw his bruising and his blood dripping on the floor.

“That’s what happens when you mess with America, you dirty..” but before he could say anything, I had already interjected.

“Stop it!” I shouted with ten heads suddenly snapping at me. I mean, I should be scared. Some of these guys had been to juvenile prison, some have sentencing procedures, and some were already in parole. They were probably gang members.

“Well look at what we have here,” said their leader. Their criminal alpha male looked at me with maliciousness twinkling in his eyes. “A sexy young thang we have here gentlemen,” he said as the other guys chuckled.

Suddenly a hand grabbed me from my side, twisting my forearm to my back into a tight locking hold. I suppose there were eleven of them. The alpha of their group chuckled some more as he walked towards me.

He looked straight into my eyes. Then down my school blouse. Too many pairs of young, lust-filled eyes now looked at me.
 
A mass of unrestrained masculinity slowly lurched towards me. I screamed, but before the sound can escape my lips, it was restrained by a hand that quickly covered my mouth. Gang assault. I know this wasn’t going to end well. A single tear started to roll down my cheek as the alpha grabbed my right breast.

“Stop!” Hideshi cried out, sprawled on the floor, bloodied, and battered on the ground. He seemed like he was trying to get up.

“Look boys. Our Asian samurai alien is trying to rescue our young friend here. Shut up Asian man, this is America. Am. Mer. I. Cuhhhhh. Ouch! You bitch!” I kicked him in his crotch. What a pitiful excuse of an American specimen.

“You bitch! You’re going to pay for that! I’m going to make you scream..!” He said as ripped my blouse. Then came a growl.

A sudden flurry of movement accompanied heavy sounds of thuds as bodies hit the hard ground. It was lightning fast.
 

“Release her.” said Hideshi in an authoritative fighting tone. The alpha looked around and saw bodies on the ground. With a sudden movement he lunged towards Hideshi with his fist containing a knife.

But Hideshi caught it.

Ok hold-up. Hideshi wasn’t a large kid to begin with. He was actually tiny in comparison to these guys. So how could a slim Asian kid suddenly take down a whole gang in just seconds? Nothing added up. Well, nothing adds up except that Hideshi had crushing grip on the alpha’s fist.

The alpha cried out in pain as Hideshi tightened his grip. A solitary knife clanked to the ground. There was a feral tint in Hideshi’s stare. Something primal that was previously hidden had now just surfaced. There was more to Hideshi than meets the eye, I thought to myself. The guy who held me finally couldn’t take it anymore and fled.

“Aaaaaah! What are you doing?” The alpha said to Hideshi. Now cowering in his knees looking up to the slits of Hideshi’s feral eyes. Hideshi in turn seemed to have gotten a lot larger; his muscles expanded with the tightening of his shirt around his chest. His black hair gleamed and streamed down his face, half-covering it in a melodramatic way. The slits of his large eyes turned to sharp triangles of anger.