Welcome to the Circlet Press ebook edition of:

Like An Animal: Erotic Tales of Werewolves

Edited by Cecilia Tan & Bethany Zaiatz
Published by Circlet Press, Inc.

Copyright © 2008 Circlet Press, Inc.

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Introduction

3

Lunacy

Elizabeth Reeve

4

The Moon Is My Mistress

Renata Piper

15

Carolina Jasmine

David Hubbard

21

Carnival of the Grotesque

A.D.R. Forte

37

Dark Divine Light

Becca Ovadia

52

Lupine House

A.N. Cortez

65

American Werewolf In Budapest

Joe Nobel

76

Contributors' Notes

87

Like An Animal:

Erotic Tales of Werewolves

When asked which ebook project I wanted to work on for Circlet

Press' fall/winter 2008 publishing season, I jumped at the chance to explore
the subject of werewolves with my own wolfishly fierce enthusiasm. I've
always been fascinated by stories of those sexy creatures whose struggles
between the power of their basic animalistic urges and their human self-
control mirror our own. And as fourteen years have passed since Circlet's first
werewolf anthology The Beast Within was published, now seemed like the per-
fect time to return to werewolves for a twenty-first century update in the
exciting new ebook format.

All seven of the brand new, previously unpublished stories presented

here in Like An Animal provide fresh and unique perspectives on the nature of
werewolves, the rules that govern their physical changes and individual
ethics, as well as the types of worlds they inhabit. From high fantasy, to
cross-dimensional science fiction, to even those grounded in worlds only
slightly more fantastical than our own, each story features compelling char-
acters of both the wolf and human persuasion, and their incredibly sexy and
diverse erotic interactions with one another.

So it is with great pride and pleasure that I, on behalf of Circlet Press,

now offer you Like An Animal: Erotic Tales of Werewolves.

Bethany Zaiatz

December 2008

Introduction

My therapist thinks I'm bipolar. It's easier all around if I embrace the

metaphor. If she understood that when I talk about my cycles of risk-taking
behavior that I really do mean that there's an actual monster coming out of
me every month, I think she'd have me committed. And a psychiatric facili-
ty is no place for a werewolf.

Therapy, though… Well, I'm still human most of the time. And sometimes

I need help coping with what the other half of me is capable of. No, it's
nothing like that. I've been able to control the bloodlust since the very begin-
ning. It's the other kind that gets me in trouble.

"So you've had another manic episode," Dr. Manspeaker says, calmly. Isn't

Manspeaker a great name for a therapist? I told her I thought so during our
first session, and she chuckled a little bit. I like to try to make her laugh.

I nod.
Dr. Manspeaker purses her lips, makes a note on her tablet. "Did you try

any of the things we talked about last month?"

"Yes," I say. "Remember, we talked about making a splurging budget?

Well, I tried that."

"And how did it go?" Spending sprees are a pretty common feature of

bipolar mania. Dr. Manspeaker probably thinks I'm buying shoes or some-
thing. I've never mentioned that what I overspend on every month is lin-
gerie. I have more lacy bustiers and leather corsets and silk stockings than a
burlesque show.

"When I felt the urges coming on, I decided on fifty dollars. And I just

kept telling myself, 'It's okay. I can buy a treat, but I'm going to stay under
fifty.' "

"Did it work?"
"Yes," I say, pleased with myself. I was very tempted by a scarlet lace

Lunacy

Elizabeth Reeve

Like An Animal 5

bodysuit, but in the end I kept myself down to a handful of thongs and a
new push-up bra.

Dr. Manspeaker makes another note. "And how about your other manic

behaviors?"

I frown, less pleased. "Well…"
"I won't be disappointed in you, Janet. There's no judgment here."
"I had sex," I blurt out.
Dr. Manspeaker tips her head, looking at me over the tops of her glasses.

"Sex is a normal part of a healthy adult's life," she says mildly.

I blush. "With a stranger," I add. "Again. But we used protection."
"That's good," Dr. Manspeaker says. "I'm glad you're working on keeping

yourself safe."

She pauses, making one of those inviting silences that therapists like to

use, waiting to see if there's anything else I want to say. There's not, really.

"How long has it been since you pursued a longer-term relationship?" Dr.

Manspeaker's pen is poised, ready to make another note.

I sigh. "A long time." It's just too complicated.

****

I like to get coffee after therapy. Dr. Manspeaker would probably say it's a

form of closure. I'm paying for my caramel mocha when I notice that one of
the guys standing at the pickup end of the counter is staring at me. I look
away quickly, a little unnerved, and keep my head down as I shuffle away
from the register. But after a minute or so, I risk a quick glance to see if he's
still staring and accidentally make eye contact.

He grins. "Hey! Janet, right?"
Oh no.
"We met at O'Malley's last weekend." He steps up next to me and lowers

his voice. "And then we, ah, hooked up."

He's a little embarrassed, and the red flush across his cheekbones reminds

me of how his face looked when I was on top of him, pinning his wrists to
the mattress.

I can feel that I'm blushing, too. I can't think of anything to say. "Yeah, we

did, and it was pretty nice. Gotta go!" doesn't seem right, somehow.

"Listen," he says, awkwardly, when I don't reply. "I meant… You were

gone before I woke up, but I wanted to take you out to breakfast. Still want
to. Or dinner, or a movie or something?"

"Don't worry about it," I say. "It was just, you know. For one night." I

Like An Animal 6

don't even remember what his name is.

His blush gets darker. "Sorry. I think I'm breaking one-night-stand eti-

quette. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

He smiles and does a little half-nod in my direction, then picks up his

coffee and leaves.

Scott, I think, grabbing my mocha. His name is Scott.

****

"I've never done this before," Scott said, nervous enough to drop his keys

twice as he let us into his apartment. "I mean, I've done it, just not like--"

I pressed him against the wall just inside the door, and felt the wolf rise

in me as I kissed him, hard. "Don't worry," I growled. "It's easy."

He took my hand when we came up for air, and led me into the bedroom.

When he paused in the doorway, uncertain again, I put my arms around his
waist and started working on his belt. My breasts pressed against his mus-
cular back, warm even through three layers of clothing, and I inhaled
sharply, breathing in his scent. In my heels, I was nearly his height, and I had
a sudden, strong urge to sink my teeth into the nape of his neck.

Down, girl, I told myself, letting his pants drop. He moaned as I ran my fin-

gers up his thighs and then under his shirt, caressing his chest. But when I
started working on his buttons, he pushed my hands away and yanked his
shirt off over his head before turning to face me.

"What about you?"
I leaned into him, pressing my lips to his, and guided his hand to the zip-

per at my back. My dress slid to the floor, and I kicked it aside.

"Oh, God," Scott said. He traced the lace edging my garter belt, breath-

ing heavily. "I didn't think anyone really wore these."

I licked my lips. "I can keep on wearing it, if you want." I leaned into him

again, urging him back towards the bed. He stumbled a little, tangled up in
pants and shoes, but managed to get free without taking his eyes off me.

"You're so beautiful," he said. He reached up to touch my face as I pushed

him down onto the bed and straddled his hips.

He was beautiful, too, with glossy dark hair and smooth skin. Eyelashes

so dark and thick he could have been wearing mascara. Full lips, a firm jaw,
and soft green eyes. I've always loved green eyes.

Most men don't respond well to being told how pretty they are, so I

kissed him again instead. His mouth felt as good as it looked. I wanted to

Like An Animal 7

feel more.

I stroked his erection through his boxers, and he moaned into my mouth.

"Feel good?" I whispered, my lips brushing against his.

He answered me by slipping his hands under my bra, gently caressing my

skin. I pushed forward into his palms, urging him on, and he squeezed me
lightly before pulling away to fumble the fastening of my bra open. I leaned
back so I could slip my bra off my arms, and his hands were on me again,
fingers pinching at my nipples. I rolled my hips down and back and felt him
twitch against me as I shivered with pleasure.

Scott propped himself up on one elbow. He circled a nipple with one fin-

ger, leaned forward until I could feel his breath, hot and moist, against my
areola. "May I?"

I could feel him under me, hard and ready, and I could smell how eager

we both were. It was a funny time to be asking permission. But there was
something sweet about it, and I smiled at his manners.

"Yes," I said.
I rocked my hips again as he licked me, rubbing against him as he closed

his lips over my nipple and gently, slowly bit down. He touched my thigh,
fingers ghosting over my stockings and onto my bare skin. My breath quick-
ened, and I curled my fingers in his hair.

"Condoms?" I gasped.
He pulled away from me, half-twisting under me to fumble in a drawer

by the bed. I tugged his boxers down his legs while he searched through the
drawer, and he laughed, almost soundlessly. He was still grinning when he
turned back to me, holding a foil packet up triumphantly. He ripped it open
and sheathed himself while I sat back on my heels, watching. His cock was
as beautiful as the rest of him, and I wished that I could taste it, unsure if the
desire was the woman's or the wolf's. But I couldn't wait. I needed him
inside me.

"Stockings on or off?" I asked, when he was ready.
He blushed, suddenly shy. "On. Please."
I leaned forward again, positioning myself over him as I pushed my

panties out of the way, the material moving slickly over my skin. I sank
down, moaning low in my throat as I took him into me.

"Okay?" I asked. He had closed his eyes, was biting his lip.
"Mmm," he grunted. "I just… Trying not to…"
I held still for a moment, getting used to the feel of him in me, waiting

Like An Animal 8

for him to come back. When he opened his eyes again I leaned forward to
kiss him, wrapping my fingers around his wrists. I slid his arms up above his
head and stretched out over him, pinning him with my weight as I began to
move. After a shaky moment, he moved with me.

"Harder," I breathed, showing him what I wanted. "Harder, yes, like that,

yes, yes."

It didn't take long before he was at the edge again, and this time I urged

him on. The full moon sang in my blood, pulling at me, making me surge
like the tide. I followed him down.

****

I see Scott at the coffee shop again later in the week. His eyes widen when

he catches sight of me, and then he looks away, pretending to be busy with
his laptop computer. The light from the window makes his green eyes pale
enough that it's easy to see that he's darting glances in my direction while I
wait for my order, though.

"Hey," I say, mocha in hand. "Is this seat taken?"
My hands are shaking a little, and I hope he won't notice. I don't do this.

The wolf is brave, purposeful, dominating… But she's asleep, and will be for
weeks yet. I'm on my own.

"No, go ahead." Scott starts to close his laptop, then pauses while the

screen is bent halfway down, like he's suddenly not sure if I came over to
talk to him or if he should pretend he's still working.

He's nervous too, and it makes me feel a little braver. But not much. "I

was thinking, and I would like to go out to dinner with you," I blurt out.
"Or, you know, whatever."

"Yeah, okay." Scott's smile makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. "That'd

be great. Friday?"

****

Dinner on Friday is good, if a little weird. I can tell from the way Scott

keeps opening and closing his mouth a couple times before actually saying
anything that he's having a hard time figuring out how to do first-date small
talk with a woman he's already had sex with. And for my part, I can count
the number of actual first dates I've had in my life on one hand.

"So what do you do for a living, Scott?" I try. Work is always a safe topic,

right?

"Freelance web design. I'm the guy small businesses call when they want

Like An Animal 9

to connect with today's hip, tech-savvy consumer. How about you?"

"File clerk at a law firm," I say. "I'm the gal that hangs out in the back of

the office and knows the alphabet really well."

He blinks. "Really?"
"Well, there's a little more to it than that. I also manage our client data-

base, and I'm in the middle of creating a protocol for scanning and archiv-
ing old files so that we can cut down on the physical storage space."

"Yeah? What format are you using for that? PDF?"
I like the job mostly because I don't have to interact directly with clients,

or even with my coworkers, most of the time. I'm not so great with people,
and having heightened senses even when it's not the full moon doesn't help.
Perfume is like an assault, and the irritating noises that people make-- the
way the senior partner clears his throat every five minutes, or the reception-
ist's mindless finger-drumming when she's on the phone with a client-- lit-
erally hurt my ears. I like my little file storage lair. It's tranquil, if boring.

Discussing it with Scott reminds me of how excited I was when I first

started working on the scanning project, and from there it's easy to keep the
conversation going.

By the time we head off to the movie theater for our second date, we're

getting along so well that neither of us really minds that the film is terrible.
We have a great time making fun of the characters on screen, whispering and
giggling back and forth until other people in the audience start shooting us
dirty looks and clearing their throats meaningfully.

For our third date, Scott invites me over to his place and cooks for us. It's

captivating. Half of his living room is given over to a huge desk that's cov-
ered with monitors and other computer peripherals which look like weath-
er-beaten plastic islands in a sea of cables, print-outs and work-related detri-
tus.The rest of the room is more fun, but equally cluttered. Novels and DVDs
flow out of overstuffed bookcases onto the floor, and there's a precarious
tower of magazines resting on top of the television. My recollection of his
bedroom is a little hazy, since I wasn't really paying attention at the time, but
I don't think it was any tidier.

But Scott's kitchen is spotless, and ridiculously well-organized. He has--

and uses--a food scale.

"Who taught you to cook?" I ask, watching in wide-eyed fascination as

he actually sticks a thermometer in the pan of pasta sauce he's heating.

"I taught myself," he says absently. "I got tired of paying for take-out all

Like An Animal 10

the time, and I thought, hey, cooking is just science, right? If I can script
dynamic web pages I should be able to make a soufflé."

I can't do either of those things, so I nod like it makes perfect sense.
"All you need is a good tutorial and the right tools," Scott mutters, mess-

ing with the burner on the stove.

And he must be on to something, because his pasta is fantastic.
Everything is fantastic, until we start kissing after dinner, and he slips his

hand under my shirt.

His thumb circling my nipple feels wonderful, but I pull away. I can't be

the woman who took him to bed before. Not under a waning moon. And I
don't want to ruin what we're starting to have.

Scott looks concerned. "What's wrong?"
"It's the wrong time of the month," I say.
Back home again after the date, I stare at myself in the mirror. I'm pretty

enough. Good skin, a cute haircut that flatters my soft brown curls. I've been
told that my hazel eyes are "mysterious," which I assume is a good thing.

I'm intelligent, too, and I can tell a good joke. I'm a great listener. I'm kind

to animals, even though most of them are terrified of me.

Logically, I've got a lot of great qualities. But I've only ever been able to

feel really confident or interesting or alluring one night out of every 29.
Especially in bed. I've tried to have sex without the wolf's help before, and it
was a disaster.

Under a full moon I feel passionate, sexy, like I can have anyone and any-

thing I want. And I do want, fiercely. It's easy to take control, get what I need.

But when the wolf's asleep, when I'm on my own… Well, I'm just me.

****

I put Scott off for almost a week, but I find myself on date number four

well before the next full moon, even so. We're at my place this time, with
take-out and a stack of rented movies. We're not even halfway through the
first silly romantic comedy before Scott's shirt is off and his hand is under
my skirt, moving up my thigh.

I want to like it. I do like it. But I know it will all go wrong any minute.

I'll panic, and Scott will realize that I'm not the woman he thinks I am, and-
-

"No stockings tonight?" he whispers.
I tense up, and Scott's hand stills. "I have to tell you something," I say,

Like An Animal 11

before I can think better of it.

"If you're still on your period, I don't mind. I mean, it doesn't bother me.

But if it's not okay with you, then of course--"

"No, it's not that." He's so sweet, and so awkward in his own way. It gives

me a little courage. "I need to explain that I'm… Well, I'm not like other
girls."

I'm not like other girls? Did I really just say that? I feel hysterical giggles

working their way up my throat, and the confused look on Scott's face isn't
helping. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

"I've never tried to explain this before," I say. "I'm not really sure how to

start. But, well, my mom died when I was really young…"

"I'm sorry," Scott says. I can tell from the sound of his voice that he still

has no idea where this conversation is going.

"It's okay. Well, it's not okay, but it's important right now because she

wasn't around when I was a teenager, and I've had to figure out all this stuff
by myself."

"What stuff?" His voice is soft and gentle, and I risk opening my eyes.

He's looking right at me, and I hold that gaze as I explain the next part.

"My mother was a lycanthrope. A werewolf. And so am I."
We stare at each other for a moment, both of us waiting for the other to

say something, to do something. Finally, Scott opens his mouth.

"You're not kidding." It's not a question.
"No."
"Can you… Is there some way you can prove it?"
I blink. I was expecting more of a reaction, I guess. "Not right now, but

on the next full moon, yes. You can watch me change if you want."

"Is it dangerous?" He's curious, but not horrified.
"The change? No. It's not like in stories. I don't go around killing people

and eating them, or anything. Usually I just go for a run in the park and…
Well, sometimes I pee on some telephone poles."

I can't believe I just told him that I pee on telephone poles. Bad enough

that I'm a shape-shifting monster, but now he probably thinks I'll mark my
territory on his car or something.

"Okay," Scott says.
I'm confused. "Okay?"
"Okay. So you'll show me next time."
"That's it? I thought you'd be a little more… Something."

Like An Animal 12

He shrugs. "Either you're telling me the truth about everything including

not being dangerous, in which case it's okay, or you're nuts, in which case I
guess I'll know soon. But I'm hoping it's the truth, however strange, because
I really like you. I've been interested since the first time I saw you."

This conversation has gone so much better than I could ever have imag-

ined, but now I'm miserable. "That's just it, though," I say. "It's not me you're
interested in--it's the wolf."

"What do you mean?"
"That night we were together, when we met at the bar. It was the full

moon. The wolf was waking up, and she was what attracted you."

I know he doesn't understand, because he leans forward to kiss me. His

lips are so soft.

"It's not a full moon tonight," he says.
My eyes burn, and I hope I won't start crying until after he leaves. "I can't

be the woman you were with," I say. "It won't be anything like it was."

He kisses me again. "I don't want was. I want is."
His fingers are on my skin again, sliding under my skirt, up my thigh.

Trembling a little, I let him touch me, grow wet for him as he slips his hand
inside my panties.

"Okay?" he whispers. When I nod, he smiles and then pulls away, gently,

so that he can stand up, bringing me with him. "Show me your bedroom."

I lead the way, pretending at confidence, only to pause awkwardly once

I'm through the door. The overhead light fixture has those energy-saving
bulbs in it and my bedroom is brighter than a sunny day. There's no way I
can do this with the lights on.

Scott doesn't seem to notice my hesitation. He presses against me from

behind, and I can feel his breath ruffling my hair as he reaches around me,
massaging my breasts through my clothes. He's hard, his erection hot against
the small of my back. I let my eyes drift shut as I lean into him, enjoying the
feel of his desire.

We stand like that for a while, his hands moving over my breasts, my

body molding to his. Then he shifts, leaning forward so that his mouth is
right by my ear. "What now?" he asks.

And there's the problem. The wolf would know. She wouldn't have even

waited for the question. On a full moon night, I would have had Scott on his
back and both of us well on the way to climax already, even with the damn
lights on.

Like An Animal 13

I try to put myself in that space, try to imagine how she would do it. "I

can't," I moan.

Scott's hands still. "Can't what? We can stop."
"No, I want… I just can't. Not on my own. I can't take charge the way the

wolf can."

He laughs, and my whole body tenses. This is what I was afraid of.
"Janet," he says. "It's okay. You don't always have to be in control."
He moves his hands to my shoulders, turns me to face him. I look up into

his soft green eyes, his warm smile. And when he pushes me gently back-
wards towards the bed, I follow his lead.

He undresses me slowly, kissing my exposed skin as he works, and soon

my breath is coming faster and I feel brave enough to help him out of his
pants.

"You're so beautiful," I say, shyly reaching out to caress his erection. He

makes a happy sound, his mouth on my breast, and slips his hand between
my thighs. I open to him, and he slides two fingers into me, his thumb
brushing across my clitoris. Soon, I'm quivering under his hand in jerky lit-
tle bursts that feel so good they almost hurt.

"I want to be inside you," he says, his breath hot against my breast. I

moan in agreement and he moves his hand away so that he can roll on a con-
dom. "Roll onto your side. I want to keep touching you."

I do what he says, shifting my body until he can slide into me from

behind. One of his arms is trapped under my body and he begins to roll my
nipples between his fingers as he slips his other hand between my legs again.

"Okay?" he asks, thrusting into me slowly.
"Oh, God yes."
He pulls back and pushes in again, still slow and steady. I can feel him

breathing, heartbeat, thighs, and abs tensing and flexing as he moves. It's so
much slower than I'm used to and I'm almost ready to ask for more when
the first ripples of my climax take me by surprise. My thighs clench, every
muscle in my body following after, and my breath comes in shaky gasps.
Scott moans in my ear, and his arms tighten around me as he comes right
after I do.

We stay spooned together for a while afterward. I'm sweaty and sticky, but

reluctant to lose the feel of him around and inside me.

"Janet," he says, eventually, "my arm is falling asleep."
I laugh and let him up, and then make a quick dash to the bathroom to

Like An Animal 14

clean myself up a little before surrendering the space to him so he can deal
with the condom.

"Would it be okay if I stay the night?" Scott asks, and I grin. I was just

about to suggest the same thing.

We curl up in bed together again, my back to his chest. "I'm looking for-

ward to the full moon," I say, after a few minutes in the dark. "I want to be
like that for you again. But this was just as good. I like you leading."

He kisses the back of my neck instead of answering, and pulls me closer.

I close my eyes, listening to his breathing, relaxed and happy.

"The first time I saw you was at the coffee shop, three months ago," Scott

murmurs, as I'm drifting off to sleep. "Just so you know."

****

"I'm seeing someone," I tell Dr. Manspeaker at my next session.
She clicks her pen. "Dating?"
"Mmhmm. For a few weeks, now."
"That's very exciting, Janet. I'm proud of you for trying something out-

side your usual comfort zone." I wouldn't describe Dr. Manspeaker's expres-
sion as 'very excited,' exactly, but she does look pleased. "How is it going?"

"Well," I say. I'm very excited. "It's going really well."
Inside, I feel the wolf stretch and yawn, waking up in preparation for

tonight's full moon. She's excited, too.

I know want.
In the waning days I get close enough to comfortable. There's plenty to

eat from the Dumpsters, and if I get tired of stale doughnuts and congealed
Chinese, there's always rats. The nearby woods are large enough and suffi-
ciently abandoned (I think they belong to Harvard) that no one sees me
except for kids playing at being wild. I let the kids see. They think I'm a big
dog, or else they enjoy the scare. I don't display myself to anyone over the
age of twelve; I've never been stupid. Well, not often, though I guess often
enough to count.

As the moon waxes it gets difficult. I blame the light. I can look at the

new crescent, shadowed by earthlight in the still-blue sky, and only think it
beautiful. But as it swells from night to night, I wake earlier, I move more
restlessly. I swell inside my own skin. I feel my appetites, and I want to be at
my Dumpsters while it's still bright out. I pace the wood's edge as cars grum-
ble by, chase mice, and try not to think about people.

The Chinese restaurant and the doughnut shop both close at nine (the

doughnut shop much less precisely and often earlier, whereas the Chinese
like to hang around late, drinking tea from travel mugs and chatting in a lan-
guage I have never understood).Tonight I am there far too early -- it's scarce-
ly summer's dusk, and not even the rats have braved the Dumpsters yet. It
isn't terribly hot -- I slept through the day, as I prefer to -- but I can feel my
tongue lolling from my open mouth, and the air tastes thick and sweet. I
smell salt sweat on the people moving to and from their cars, and the oils
and metals of the cars themselves prick my throat. I can feel the heat that
pours from the engines, and from the human bodies as well. I wonder
whether I am in heat, if such a thing could happen to the likes of me.

Thirty seconds of this is too much for me. I bolt back into my woods,

The Moon Is My Mistress

Renata Piper

Like An Animal 16

where the trees scatter the moonlight and the earth smells of a thousand
small live things. I make my way down to the stream and drink. The water
tastes of cars and moonlight too, but also of frogs and fallen leaves, and that
helps me to tolerate it. I walk in and stand for awhile in the deepest part. I
hope that the water will begin to taste of me. I look down at my wavering
shadow, imagining two reflections-- one a woman, dark-skinned and red-
haired and small; another a wolf, dark-furred and red-maned and stronger if
not larger. I'm lonely. I lower my hindquarters into the cool water, imagin-
ing women, imagining wolves. I twist my tail aside, and the current across
my vulva excites me. I whimper and twist, and then I try to quell my own
imaginings. Once I longed for something that was not to be: I want my life
to be different now.

By the time I emerge, the moonlight has changed. It's darker than it

should be. I can see too many stars between the trees. But my feelings have
only grown deeper, darker, too. I want.

I return to the edge of the parking lot and lay down, resting my head on

my front paws. The people come and go, talking, I presume, of
Michelangelo. I keep quiet, so still that a vole runs almost directly in front of
my nose -- I snap it up, of course, a tasty iron-flavored mouthful that pleas-
es me better than sugar glaze. I watch the moon lift itself slowly above the
doughnut shop. It is indeed full, but shadowed, an impression of itself drawn
in umber and blood. I find myself lifting to my feet and raising my head to
howl, but then I close my eyes and shake instead. It won't do to let on that I
am here, and there's no one to listen to me anyway. I lay down again, eyes
still closed, and bask in the moon-darkness for hours, listening to the cars
and the people, then just the Chinese, then finally only crickets and bats.

I rise again, and this time I do howl for the moon-- if only for the moon.
Another voice answers me. A thin, soft, quivering note, staccato with

silence, sobs between choked breaths. It startles me into silence.Then curios-
ity overwhelms me, and I trot across the asphalt to the sound.

There's a person sitting on the curb between the doughnut shop and its

Dumpster. A woman. She smells like iron and moonlight and heat. She's def-
initely crying and I think she's bleeding too. I imagine myself drawing back,
but instead I hurry towards her and stop less than an arm's-reach away. My
tongue is lolling out again, and I can hear myself pant.

The woman hears me, too. At first she just draws tighter into herself,

pressing her face down on her knees and her hands around her legs. I see

Like An Animal 17

her shaking. I stand there and smell her. Then her own curiosity overwhelms
her too, and she looks up.

There's blood on her face, still trickling a little from her nose and the cor-

ner of her mouth. There's dried blood in her hair, too, which otherwise is
pale even by this shadowy moon. Her eyes widen then narrow when she sees
me and she snuffles into the back of her sleeve.

I know what I look like. I'm taller than she is, sitting there on the curb,

though if she stood up she'd tower over me on all my fours. She probably
outweighs me two to one. But I know I look dangerous, and certainly I am
stronger. I'd say something reassuring, if I could. I consider bringing her a
not-too-stale leftover doughnut. As it is I drop my head and turn it a little
sideways. Maybe that'll make me look cute.

Maybe it works, because her next sound is a little bit closer to a laugh. I

step closer. Then I reach forwards and lick her face, my tongue swiping
across her forehead. She tastes salty and sweet and alive. I remember that dog
spit is supposed to be anti-infectious-- maybe mine is too, or maybe it car-
ries its own disease; I don't know. All I really know is that I want.

And then I know she wants too, because she puts her hands up into my

ruff, leans her face into the fur on my neck, and starts to cry again. I stand
frozen. No creature has touched me since I first changed, and I have touched
none except my prey. Her fingers push through the thick fur around my
neck, pulling me closer. I step forwards and she presses her cheek against my
chest. My heart leaps inside me, so hard I wonder if she can feel it too. She
isn't crying anymore. She turns her face upwards and kisses me, just where
my fangs protrude down over my lower jaw.

Perhaps it's the kiss, perhaps it's the blood -- but this taste is electric as

licking a battery, harsh and hot as the drink called moonshine. The too-dark
sky spins through my vision, sparks of too-bright stars and a full moon the
color of ashes, then the pitch-black of the asphalt and the softer black of the
woods. There's a moment where all I can see is the harsh reds and yellows
of the Chinese restaurant sign.Then everything becomes still, and everything
is her pale hair, her pale face spattered with blood.

I shiver. I'm not a wolf anymore. I'm a woman with the taste of another

woman in my mouth. I'm naked on all fours in a parking lot, the asphalt
warm beneath my fingers and my feet, my bare skin prickling against her
blood-crusted jeans.

If this startles her, she doesn't show it. Her eyes gleam and twinkle like

Like An Animal 18

stars, and she pulls me closer, into her lap. She's still bigger than I am, but
now she's probably the stronger one, too. I look up at her, wondering if I
should say something, if I possess again the faculty of speech. I can feel my
own hair, still rough as wolf-pelt, falling around my bare shoulders.Then she
kisses me once more, her hair on my cheek as soft as feathers, our two
mouths soft on soft.

I grip her denimed hips in my two hands. I have thumbs! Her hands move

around my neck and she kisses me harder, her flat teeth nipping at my lower
lip. I open my mouth for her and her tongue is inside as her hands move
down my shivering spine. When she reaches my ass she pauses, caressing,
chilly and electric. Her fingernails scrape the base of my spine.Then she pulls
me to lie down with her, her back on the sidewalk in front of the doughnut
shop, our legs trailing into the parking lot. My hands -- they feel so delicate,
hands -- move up to her belly, sliding beneath her shirt.

She groans, unafraid of her own voice. This makes me bold as well, and

my hands move upwards as my head moves downwards, finding a soft
breast and a hard nipple. She pulls the shirt off with her own hands, and I
feast on her as on my prey. I can hear her heart pounding, and feel the blood
swell and rush beneath her skin. I groan too, responding to her voice, and
she pushes her breasts towards me even as she reaches down to unbutton her
jeans.

Her scent reaches me even as she's still wriggling free from the stiff cloth.

Salt sweat, drying blood, the urine tang, and fresh musk. I want, and now I
have. My lips cling to her breast as I reach one hand for her cunt, finding the
wet heat there. I remember the cool water in the stream and my mouth
stretches into a smile; she groans again as my teeth come together. I push my
fingers into her, delighting in their agility, in my own skill at circling her clit
with my thumb. She pushes her hips to me, trembling and demanding. I
would give her moonlight. I would give her anything. I give her my mouth
and hands and the heat of my body, the sounds from my throat, until she
comes. Her body locks around me, her cunt throbbing around my fingers,
her arms behind my back and her legs behind my knees. I can feel myself
smiling again, and I slowly slide my mouth up to her throat, teeth still grip-
ping and bared.

After a moment she pulls free, and I let her go. I don't know what will

happen next, and the thought makes me want to disappear, to fade into the
ashen darkness, the color of my own wolf pelt. But she is indeed stronger

Like An Animal 19

than I am, pushing me over easily, so that I'm lying on the sidewalk on my
bare back. I let my hands fall, empty and helpless, to my sides.

Her hands push my knees apart, and she crouches between them on the

asphalt. The night air is cool on my cunt, and her breath is warm. Her hands
reach up to grasp my wrists. For a moment she presses her face between my
legs and I almost scream at the contact. Then she slides slowly upwards. Her
ribcage pushes my thighs outwards. Her weight on my abdomen forces the
breath out of me. Her tongue drags a slow, winding path across my body,
pausing to lick into my navel, to taste the undersides of my breasts, to lap at
my armpits and the small of my throat, before she kisses my mouth again.

This time she is gentle, almost reticent, and soon I am reaching for her

with my own tongue and teeth, a twist of my hips and a low growl in my
throat. She pulls back and smiles at me, a quick crescent moon, then makes
her way slowly down my body again. Her hands are still locked to my wrists,
but her teeth nip here and there at random -- my shoulder, my nipples, my
breastbone, my pelvis then my cunt, blessedly she stays there. Her top teeth
hook around my swollen clitoris while her tongue probes into my vagina.
She kisses me there as she kissed my mouth the first time, gently and then
harder, nipping and demanding, then rolling her whole face into me, suck-
ing and grinding and moaning. My eyes roll back, and I see the moon dis-
solve in red and black and gold. My whole body strains against her as I come.

We lie together quietly for a moment and she slides upwards to embrace

me, pushing one arm under my neck to pillow my head from the concrete.
Even then, I can feel myself starting to change, as the light on the moon
changes, very slowly. She clings to me throughout, her strong hands unyield-
ing as my shape alters, bones bending and elongating, fur thickening in her
grip. My teeth lengthen and sharpen into fangs against her shoulder. My ears
become pointed and then flexible, and my hearing becomes sharper. A car
passes on the road, not very far away. I tense. My body is sated, I am full of
both myself and of her and yet, still, I want. I open my eyes wide and twist
my head to look for the moon, my moon, I shall have no other moon before
me--

But her face is above mine again, her silver-blue eyes as bright as stars. "I

want to stay with you," she whispers.

The moonlight is changing again. A thin edge of pure white appears as

she speaks, and perhaps this is what makes her words magic. It begins in
those eyes, elongating and turning feral while remaining silver-blue. Then

Like An Animal 20

her pale hair thickens, running down her spine. Her hands lose their grip,
claws scrabbling roughly around me, but I press closer to her, belly to belly,
open mouth to stretching throat. She is writhing again, silent except for her
panting breath. I roll over her and we bump down off the curb. I pin her
gently to the asphalt, trying to protect her head, and watch her minutely. I've
felt this before myself, but I've never seen anything like it.

The moon is as white as a pearl when she is complete. Her eyes are still

the same color, her coat pale red, her ruff a darker red than mine. She's still
bigger than I am. I lift myself from her body and move one step away. She
rolls and stands, sways, shakes as if coming out of water, then steps over
alongside me. She opens her fanged mouth to lick beneath my fanged jaw.

Together we slip into the soft dark woods, leaving her bloodied clothing

behind, touched only by each other and the moonlight scattered by leaves.

The car rolled to a stop in front of what was to be my home-away-from-

home for the next two full weeks. I couldn't have been more excited. It'd
been almost four years since I'd had an actual vacation, and I'd been plan-
ning this trip for months to make up for all those others I never took. I sat
behind the wheel for several minutes, just staring at the small wooden build-
ing.

I can't believe I'm going spend two weeks in something half as small as my apartment, I

thought to myself, and snorted.

Oh well, you wanted a vacation start vacationing.
Opening the car door brought me my first scent of mountain air. It was

brilliant, full of so many aromas it was hard to process them all. The smell
of earth, the trees themselves, a lake somewhere nearby all mingled in the
cool air. The most powerful scent, though, was the jasmine that twined
around the small porch railing and climbed the corners of the cabin. It was
a heady, rich aroma that I inhaled deeply and was reluctant to release.

I had chosen to head up into the Great Smokey Mountains for this Mother

of all Vacations, to a cabin I'd found for rent online. It bordered the National
Forest and was about thirty miles or so from Asheville, North Carolina. It was
fairly remote, there only being a handful of people who owned the land
around the area, and few of them were permanent residents; mostly hunters
and retirees with summer homes. Now that it was beginning to change sea-
sons, only the hunters might be up here.

It was the second week of September, and the trees were just beginning

to turn.

Good thing you brought your camera, huh?
I popped the trunk and opened the rear driver door and grabbed my suit-

case and a large duffel bag and headed toward the cabin. I'd packed enough

Carolina Jasmine

David Hubbard

Like An Animal 22

clothes to make sure that if the temperature dropped lower than expected I
wouldn't freeze to death in the middle of nowhere. I'd made sure to stop in
Asheville and buy enough supplies for the weeks ahead as well: all sorts of
canned goods, bread, cheese, bottled water, everything I'd need at once so I
wouldn't have to get in the car again until it was time to head back to civi-
lization.

Dropping the bag at the door I fumbled for the key the owner had mailed

me when I had signed the rental agreement. There was an old rocking chair
on the small porch and a little table, the view would be spectacular any time
of day and I resolved to finish reading the book I'd brought with me in this
very spot. The door creaked a little, just like in one of those backwoods hor-
ror flicks, but the air inside wasn't stale.

And doesn't smell like dead bodies fortunately.
It was a cozy little place, just two rooms. There was a small kitchen with

a sink and stove, a couple of cabinets and countertop space which blended
seamlessly in with the living area. There were, thankfully, only a few pairs of
antlers scattered around the room. Two overstuffed armchairs angled to each
other and a thick shag rug lay between them and the fireplace, forming a
nice triangle.

"Oh holy shit, that's a real bearskin rug? No way!" I laughed out loud

when I realized what I was looking at was the real deal.

Kinda creepy actually…

I concluded my brief tour with the bedroom, noting the presence of a

few more pieces of antler-art. The bed was large and the frame was high off
the floor leaving room to stow the suitcase beneath. A quick test with my
hand proved it to be very soft and inviting. The little bathroom off the bed-
room had just a small sink, toilet and shower.

This'll do just fine for two weeks. I don't need five-star accommodations this is to get away

from all that.

I finished unloading the supplies from the car and caught myself remov-

ing a can of salmon from a box.

There's plenty of time to unpack later. Go take a walk, idiot, I chided myself, and put

the can back, heading for the door.

It was only about two in the afternoon, plenty of daylight left, so I started

walking down a trail that led away from the house in the direction of what
looked like a lake. A few moments later and my suspicions were confirmed:
a beautiful lake spread out before me, brilliant blue and green, the sunlight

Like An Animal 23

glancing off the surface of the water like off the scales of some gigantic fish.
About the time that thought occurred, a large fish leaped into the air from
the center of the lake and splashed back down.

"It's beautiful," I said quietly, in awe of the place.
My attention was then captured by movement on the other side of the

lake. There was another cabin, this one built right at water's edge with a
small pier running out over the water. The opposite side of the lake had a
higher ground level than the side I was on, a small cliff of sorts, and the back
of the cabin I saw was actually on stilts to keep it above the waterline. The
movement I'd seen turned out to be a man walking down the pier toward
the lake. He was carrying something. He was too far for me to really pick out
details, but I thought it might be the neighborly thing to do so I lifted my
arm and waved out over the blue-green expanse between us.

The man stopped in mid-stride, frozen for a brief moment as he noticed

me, then he continued to his destination. He knelt down and began dipping
items into the water, pans maybe, it was hard to tell. One thing I was certain
of, though, his eyes never left me as I stood there and watched him. After a
moment, when he failed to return my friendly gesture, I became suddenly
uncomfortable with the intensity of his stare and turned away, heading back
to my own cabin.

Speaking of backwoods horror flicks…
I decided to explore a little in the opposite direction from the lake and

the not-so-friendly neighbor, wandering down another trail that led into the
forest proper. The leaves were still mostly green, with just a few starting to
turn towards autumn colors of red, orange and yellow. I wandered along the
trail as it wound among the trees for a few yards before inhaling a deep
breath and closing my eyes, savoring the moment. Sighing contentedly, I
turned back to finish my unpacking.

A little over an hour later and I was finished unpacking, arranging and

cleaning my home-away-from-home. I was still smiling as I grabbed my
book, a cup of fresh coffee I'd just made and headed for the door with the
intention of parking my butt in the rocking chair until the daylight was
gone. I opened the door, dropped my book and, as much as I hate to admit
it, screamed like a girl. A man was standing in the doorway.

"Oh my God, you scared the shit out of me!" I said, trying to calm down.

I willed my voice to drop a few octaves before I had to speak again.

For a moment that low budget, backwoods horror movie scene flashed in

Like An Animal 24

my mind and I swear I heard the music from The Shining. Then I saw his eyes
and my mouth dropped open involuntarily.They weren't beautiful, they were
absolutely gorgeous; grey as storm clouds with a breathtaking intensity to
them. The rest of his face was ruggedly handsome, a mustache and goatee
and maybe a day or two's worth of stubble on the rest. Tanned skin, but not
that fake-bake color, a real, natural tan you only get from being outdoors.
His hair was dark brown with just a bit of grey at the temples and cropped
close to his head, almost a military flattop. He was tall, maybe six foot three
or four and his chest was a barrel, thick and muscular as were his arms. He
was wearing a classic plaid flannel lumberjack shirt and worn denim jeans
with a pair of heavy duty work boots.

"Sorry," he practically rumbled, his voice deep and surprisingly rich. This

entire encounter was really making it hard for me to breathe and it was all I
could do not to get all giddy with teenage excitement.

Calm down, idiot, what if he's straight, or a serial killer? Oh well, as long as he likes to strip

down to kill people I guess I can die happy, My inner monologue was racing as fast as
my heart.

"Oh, uh, no problem… it's no problem. I just wasn't, uh, expecting any-

one to be standing on my front porch when I, uh, opened the door…" I
trailed off, afraid I was babbling now.

Shut up and let the man talk again so you can hear that sexy-ass voice say

more than one word, I chided myself.

"Sorry," he said again, then, "I just wanted to see who was staying in the

Richards' cabin."

After a moment where I was sure I must have looked a complete fool

complete with drool running down my chin, I recovered my voice and
answered, "Oh, yeah, I'm renting it for the next two weeks. A little vacation
for myself after years of not taking one." I stooped and picked up my book
and realized he was still standing outside and me inside.

"Uh, would you like to come in…" and trailed off again with no name

to call this hot lumberjack of a man.

"Name's Jack," he said and I nearly snorted out loud but caught myself in

time, "and no, I've got to get back to my place, but maybe I'll see you around
again while you're here?" he said and there was a tone there I couldn't quite
put my finger on.

Stop, there's no way that man was hitting on you.
"Oh, sure. That'd be great, Jack," and before I forgot my own name, "I'm

Like An Animal 25

Scott. Scott Emory. Nice to meet you, neighbor," I said with a smile, extend-
ing my hand toward him. He glanced at my proffered hand a moment before
deciding it was safe and shook it. His grip was strong and I knew he was
being careful, that if he'd wanted to he could've crushed my hand. I work
out, but this guy had the kind of muscle you didn't get in a gym.

Without another word, Jack turned and walked off down the path lead-

ing around the lake and back to his cabin. I watched him until I couldn't see
him anymore, and for several minutes afterward, until I came back to earth
and had to get a fresh cup of coffee; it'd gotten cold while I watched Jack
lumber off.

Not one to break a good routine, I got up early every morning and pulled

on my sweats and hoodie, then went for a run around the lake. The weather
was beautiful, if cool, and the scenery was fantastic. After catching sight of
several different birds, I resolved to bring my binoculars with me the next
morning to get a better look at those those I'd only heard.

That next day I was set to go for my run, binoculars included, and started

off. As the day before, the weather was perfect, I couldn't have asked for bet-
ter. The binoculars proved a great asset in locating the birds from the previ-
ous day's run and I was glad I'd brought them.

This vacation is getting better all the time.
I had stopped for a short break about halfway through my run and

because I'd heard a cardinal somewhere nearby and was trying to get a bet-
ter look. Suddenly I heard a twig snap. I turned slowly in the direction I
thought it'd come from, but couldn't see anything.

Probably just a squirrel or some other rodent. No big deal, my inner voice reassured

me.

I dismissed the sound, checked my watch and start my run back to the

cabin to fix breakfast. At one other point along my path I heard the sound of
a branch snapping and decided it might be better if I picked up my pace just
a little. As I round the last curve in the trail before the cabin, I could swear I
hear a panting sound, like a large dog, but when I glanced back down the
trail I didn't see anything.

A nice warm breakfast of eggs, ham and toast made me forget all about

the strange noises from my run.

Later that afternoon I took the binoculars with me and wandered down

to the water's edge, thinking I might get to see some waterfowl or other
wildlife coming down to drink. This time, the strange sound I heard turned

Like An Animal 26

out to be Jack, chopping firewood out beside his cabin across the lake.

In a moment of perversion, I picked up the binoculars and focused in on

the hulk of a man at work. Boy was I glad I did: Jack had stripped off his
shirt and was just wearing his faded jeans and work boots. His back glistened
with sweat in the autumn sun and I could see the muscles working beneath
his skin as he swung the axe high overhead and brought it down on a log,
splitting it neatly and adding it to the sizeable pile already there. When he
turned to pick up another large log, I got a glimpse of his massive chest, cov-
ered in dark fur.

"Daaaaaamn," I muttered to myself as I continued by voyeurism. Jack was

definitely a man's man that was certain.

But what does he do for company up here I wonder?
A moment later a chill ran down my spine; Jack's head snapped up from

his work and he looked straight at me. I just knew he could see right through
the lenses of the binoculars and into my own eyes. That stare was so intense,
and something else. Predatory maybe? Despite the feeling of dread slowly
creeping over me, I couldn't take my eyes off the object of my lust. A
moment later, I saw a slow grin spread across Jack's features and he turned
back to his axe and wood pile, completely ignoring me again as if he had no
idea he were being observed.

"Ok, that was strange. I know he saw me watching him," I muttered

aloud.

Maybe he's an exhibitionist and is getting as much a thrill out of being watched as you are

watching him? my perverse little inner voice suggested.

"One can hope, anyway." I answered it aloud.
That night, I sat out on my little porch and watched the sun set and the

moon rise. It was getting fuller as the week went on, and I knew it would be
its fullest on the day before I was to head back to the real world and every-
thing I'd intentionally left behind there. The scent of jasmine drifted around
the porch in lazy, fragrant wisps and the sounds of nocturnal insects and
frogs were my only company.

I swirled the ice cubes in my glass and they tinkled softly, reminding me

I needed a refill. I stepped into the cabin, leaving the door ajar, and poured
another vodka tonic. When I turned around I almost dropped the whole
thing on the floor. Jack was standing in the doorway.

Like An Animal 27

"Jesus Jack," I started, then burst out laughing, "well, at least I didn't

scream this time." I smiled as I said it. "For a big man, you sure move qui-
etly."

"Sorry again," he said, but he had an amused look on his face this time.
"Would you like a drink?" I offered, raising my glass toward him.
He hesitated a moment before nodding. Once I handed him his drink we

stood in an awkward silence for a moment, until I coughed slightly and
offered Jack the chair on the porch. He declined, but sat on the top step,
angled so we could see each other, and I returned to my seat.

"So," I began, not knowing what to say and too busy studying the lines

of muscle in Jack's arms. His flannel was sleeveless this time and it was def-
initely flattering on him. A dark triangle of hair nestled in the V of his shirt
captured my full attention. "So, Jack, what do you do up here for fun?" I
asked, hoping it was an innocuous question since I couldn't for the life of
me think of anything else to say.

He took a sip of his vodka tonic before answering, "I hunt." The tone was

strange, and made goose bumps run along the back my arms.

"Like… big game?" I asked, trying to sound interested and get him to say

more than two words at a time just to hear his voice.

A huge wolfish grin split his face before he answered, "You could say

that." The goose bumps returned along with a small knot in my stomach, but
Jack sure had a nice smile and beautiful, straight white teeth. His eyes almost
seemed to reflect the moonlight, the way an animal's would at night in your
headlights. His stare was so intense it was starting to make me squirm in my
chair.

"So, uh, looks like the moon'll be full soon," It was lame, but I was com-

pletely at a loss for words at the moment, and couldn't take my eyes off his,
so I covered by taking a sip of my drink.

"Yes, she will," he replied, turning to look up at the slowly-waxing silver

orb overhead. I shivered slightly, but not from cold, now that that stare was
broken. Then, from out of nowhere he asked point blank, "Are you gay,
Scott?" He didn't take his eyes off the moon, but I swear his ear twitched the
way a dog's might when it was listening but didn't want to be obvious about
it.

I hesitated a moment before responding, "Yes... Is that a problem, Jack?"

I hope I sounded as confident to his ears as I did to mine. I was a little afraid,
but the throb in my jeans confirmed that I was also very aroused. Jack was

Like An Animal 28

just plain hot; a little creepy, maybe, but definitely hot. And it'd been months
since I'd gotten laid, so being alone with this gorgeous piece of beefcake in
the Smokey Mountains, turned me on, even if it also made me a bit nervous.

"Don't get many up here," he said without actually answering my ques-

tion.

Mingled with the night air and jasmine I caught a whiff of a musky, not-

unpleasant, odor that made my dick throb even harder and my breathing
become more rapid and shallow.

Somewhere a wolf howled mournfully.
Jack stood so suddenly I rocked back in my chair and sucked in an invol-

untary breath; the smell of jasmine was almost overpowering.

"I have to go. Thanks for the drink, Scott." He tossed back the last of the

vodka, set the glass down on the step and without so much as a glance in
my direction, Jack walked off down the path into the trees and was gone.

It was some time before my heartbeat and breathing returned to normal

and even longer before the bulge in my pants subsided. Only later, as I lay
awake in bed, did I wonder how he could see in the dark, since he hadn't
had a flashlight with him. I dreamt of running through a jasmine-scented
forest and seeing a man and a wolf some distance from me, but always keep-
ing pace.

The next few days were pretty monotonous, but after three years in a

high-pressure, middle-management job, monotony was a much-welcomed
guest. My days were filled with nothing more complicated than a hike
through the woods or a stroll by the lake; and nothing more stressful than
bird-watching or staring through my binoculars at Jack while he chopped
wood, shirtless and sweating in the autumn air.

Against my better judgment I'd become somewhat obsessed with my

rather odd neighbor. I hadn't figured out why he'd been so pointed in his
questioning of my sexuality. A part of my brain, the part that was connected
directly to my dick, insisted that he was either gay himself, or that living
alone in the woods had made him unconcerned with the gender of his sex-
ual partner. The rest of me, the part that remained in control at least for the
time being, said it was because I'd been so obvious in my ogling him and
he'd been uncomfortable with it, and had to ask to verify his suspicions then
move forward.

Then there was the weirdness that surrounded him-- like when he knew

I was watching him, even though it was at least a good hundred yards across

Like An Animal 29

the lake.The way he moved, like a big cat, graceful, quiet and powerful. And
the way he talked about the moon, like it was a person. He was a very pleas-
ant mystery, I admitted, one I intended to unravel before my vacation ended
and I returned to the tedium of corporate America.

One afternoon in the beginning of my second week at the cabin, I decid-

ed to take run in the late afternoon and rather than circle the lake I chose to
take one of the hiking trails through the trees. I decided after the first night
here that locking the cabin was sort of pointless since other than Jack there
wasn't anyone else up here. A part of me hoped one day to arrive after a run
to find him waiting for me, though I doubted that little fantasy would ever
come true.

I'd run for about an hour and a half, and was just coming back around

the last curve with the cabin in sight. I slowed and then stopped altogether
as I got closer and noticed that the door was open.

Great. I'm getting robbed in the mountains.
Because my fantasy wasn't about to actually come true, that'd be too

much like a movie.

I decided to stay in the trees and move around to the side of the cabin

where I could get a look in the bedroom window, since that's where my wal-
let, camera and binoculars were; the only real valuables besides the car I had
with me. I crept closer to the window, careful not to step on any branches
or things that might make too much noise. When I got to the end of the
cabin, I kept out of sight of the window, and just poked my head up a little,
giving me a glimpse in the room.

Who are you? James Bond? my inner voice laughed, and it was funny, but the

adrenaline kept my heart racing and I didn't laugh aloud, fortunately. I did,
however, widen my eyes in surprise when I saw that the person in my room
was, in fact, Jack.

He was standing near the bed and as I watched, he did the most bizarre

thing I think I'd ever seen. He bent down, grabbing a handful of the sheets,
and brought it to his nose, where he then inhaled deeply. Then he leaned
across the bed to the spot where I actually had laid the night before and
began to sniff and snuffle much like a dog would do.

Or a wolf.
As I continued to watch, I became increasingly turned on by Jack's most-

unusual-to-date behavior. There was something very primal about him, and
as he began to actually crawl across my bed, sniffing the sheets as he went,

Like An Animal 30

my dick just about ripped out of my briefs. When Jack reached my pillow,
he was on all fours, with his head bent low to the mattress. He buried his
face in the pillow and grunted, a deep animal sound and then, scooping up
the pillow to keep it pressed against his nose, he rolled onto his back and
began to writhe, just like a dog does in something with a strong smell.

Or a wolf.
The smell of the jasmine that twined up the cabin wall was all around me

and somewhere in the back of my lust-crazed brain I thought I could also
smell that musky scent I first smelled on Jack a few nights ago. As I watched
Jack's increasingly erotic display, body writhing and bucking slowly on the
bed, one of his hands slid from the pillow covering his face down his
exposed abdomen with its treasure trail of dark hair and into the top of his
jeans. He let out another animal groan as his hand made contact with the
ample bulge behind his button-fly and that's when my knees buckled and
my head started to spin. A moment later I was caught in the throes of one of
the most intense orgasms I'd ever had and I wasn't even touching myself. I
threw my hands out and grabbed the cabin wall to keep from falling over
and let out a groan of my own.The shivers and convulsions seemed to go on
and on.

By the time I was done and could stand up again, my sweats were wet

through, the cum having soaked through my briefs and even run down my
leg. I was sweating and with the sun just starting to set I shivered from both
cold and raw desire.

Between gasps for breath I said, "Holy fuck, that's got to be the hottest,

most erotic thing I've ever seen."

When I'd regained my senses enough that I thought to check the window

again, Jack was gone. I jogged around the front of the cabin, but didn't see
any sign of him anywhere. I raced into the bedroom, but he was gone like
he'd never even been there. I could see where he'd twisted up the sheets in
his display and my pillow wasn't where I'd left it, but of the man there was
no sign.

I didn't know whether Jack had planned on letting himself get caught or

he'd heard me when I'd come but he'd since made himself scarce. I looked
for him at the lakeshore to no avail. So, after two days, and with my vacation
rapidly approaching its end, I decided to let the hunter come to me.

I waited until late afternoon to go on my run again the way I had the day

I caught Jack in my cabin, hoping perhaps he was watching and would take

Like An Animal 31

the initiative again. I ran for over an hour up through the woods which were
by now all the colors of fall: red, gold, orange, brown and even a few deep
purples here and there. I took a short break at the end of the trail and then
turned and began the run back. As I jogged along, I became aware of anoth-
er presence in the growing twilight.

It was following me, but just far enough back that I couldn't see who or

what it was. Finally, after I'd run another hundred yards or so I stopped and
turned, "Jack? Is that you?" I called back down the trail. There wasn't any
response, then after several minutes something moved at the end of the trail.
Large doesn't begin to describe the size of the wolf that rounded the bend
in the trail; it was huge!

"Oh shit," I whispered to myself, real panic rising up and my brain

screaming at me to run or climb a tree or something, but don't just stand
there.

So I turned and ran, and I could hear the wolf behind me as it pursued.

I could hear its panting, the low growls as it loped after me. I rushed to get
back to the safety of my cabin, though I did have a moment to consider that
even that wasn't going to be safe against an animal this large. I kept running,
glancing back, just like in the horror movies, to see if the thing was still
chasing me. It was, and I could only push my straining legs harder, gasping
for breath, tears running down my face as I played through countless nature
program scenes with me as the hapless herbivore:

Just let me make it back to the cabin, and Just let Jack be there to scare

this thing off.

Ahead I saw the end of the trail and a glimpse of safety. I sobbed a laugh,

thinking I was almost there, and risked another glance behind me.

Idiot, the ones that look back always get eaten, my little voice said, mock-

ingly.

I choked on a sob when I saw how close the wolf was, maybe only ten or

fifteen yards behind me. I could hear the growling and slavering of the mon-
ster drown out even my inner monologue, not an easy feat.

My shoes barely had enough traction to make the corner of the cabin as

I flew around it, turning one last time expecting to see the giant wolf leap-
ing in mid air for the kill. It was gone. Before I had time to wonder what this
meant, my instincts told me to look where I was going and I snapped my
head around in time to collide with something large and furry, falling back
on my butt in the gravel of the drive. I screamed and my arms flew up to

Like An Animal 32

protect my face as best I could. Then I had to wonder why the wolf was
speaking to me in a voice that sounded a lot like Jack.

"Scott? Are you alright?" the wolf asked.
I lowered my arms and carefully opened my eyes, one at a time, to see

Jack standing over me in his standard work boots, jeans and flannel shirt,
which was unbuttoned to reveal that massive hairy chest. I was having a
serious problem trying to make sense of what just happened.

"J-Jack?" I stammered, confused. Then I remembered the reason I was

running in the first place and a new wave of panic washed over me as I
scrambled to get to my feet. "Th-the wolf! C'mon, we gotta get inside where
it's safe!" I grabbed Jack's arm and pulled him in the direction of the cabin.
He came along willingly and once inside, I closed and bolted the door then
began a nervous pacing. Jack was as calm as ever and just watched me in
silence.

When I finally felt his eyes on me, I stopped and turned, annoyance on

my face and in my voice, "What?" I demanded, "There was a wolf. It was
chasing me."

A strange smile played across Jack's lips and a glint in his eye gave me the

distinct impression I was still the prey only now he was the predator. He was
silent, just staring with those gorgeous grey eyes and his teeth were still
showing in that smile as he took a step toward me. I froze, unable to take my
eyes off him, as he literally stalked toward me in the middle of the small liv-
ing room. I kept perfectly still as Jack moved closer, his nostrils flaring, as
he… sniffed me.

"Mmmm.You smell good, Scott," that liquid bass rumbled up out of his

chest and made my knees weak again.

Then my inner voice just had to butt-in, He's going to eat you, stupid, this is where

that red-neck horror movie ends.

He leaned into me again and I could feel his breath on my neck as he

inhaled deeply again and made a growling noise in his throat.

"J-Jack?" I asked, incredibly aroused and trembling slightly.
"Yeah?" he didn't stop his strange examination of me, and began to cir-

cle me slowly, admiring every angle beneath my sweats.

"You're… ah, you're k-kinda--" I began, the stutter returning to my voice.
"Scaring you?" he finished and I could tell he enjoyed the fact that I might

be afraid.

"No actually. You're really turning me on, Jack," and I suddenly realized

Like An Animal 33

that I wasn't afraid of this big burly man, despite all the things he could do
to me if he'd wanted. No, I was so turned on my briefs were wet with more
than just the sweat from my run.

Jack came full circle, standing in front of me and stopped, inches from

my face. His eyes were locked on mine and I knew it wouldn't take much for
me to get lost in them for days.

"There's a full moon out tonight, ya know that?" Jack asked, his eyes

searching mine intently. His breathing was more like little ragged gasps and
I could smell the musk on him. My dick strained in its cotton prison.

"N-no… I mean, yeah, I knew it was soon," I tried to continue but my

train of thought was suddenly derailed, "Jack, w-would you like to spend the
night w-with m-me?" I silently hoped The Shining music wasn't about to start
playing now.

His smile became more of a cocky smirk, "You think you can handle me,

Scott?" Those words nearly made me come again, but I managed to keep
control of my loins a little longer.

"I don't know, but I'd sure as hell like to try," I replied, growing bolder

now that I was sure Jack wasn't interested in eating me.

Well, not literally, anyway.

"Here, put this on for now," he said and handed me a wide strip of

checkered material. It was a sleeve from one of his flannel shirts and it
smelled of him as I took it and brought it to my face. I looked once more
into those stormy eyes and then I wrapped the make-shift blindfold around
my head and tied the knot.

"Lift your arms," he commanded quietly, voice husky with lust. I did as I

was told and felt his hands moving, taking hold of the sweatshirt and tee
beneath and pulling them up and off, over my head.

"Put your hands behind your head." I did, and shuddered as I felt Jack's

breath in my armpit. He inhaled again, and again made that growling in his
throat. I left out a soft moan and stood, trembling, as this great beast of a
man proceeded to circle me again, his nose pressed very near but not-quite-
touching me. I felt his breath along the back of my neck and then in the
other armpit before he was again in front of me, his head bent down to sniff
my chest.

"Fuuuuck," I breathed.
A tiny little part of my brain, that one little part not totally overwhelmed

by pure lust and the raw animal desire to fuck or be fucked, had to laugh.

Like An Animal 34

I'd rented a cabin in the woods, expecting to get away from everyone and
everything and yet here I was, more turned on than I could ever remember
being and by a guy that was so fucking hot I'd be the envy of every queen
back in Raleigh.

I gasped as Jack's lips grazed my left nipple, causing it to stand out,

painfully stiff, from my chest. I worked out, though I wasn't a gym-a-holic
like some of my friends. I had just a light dusting of hair across my pecs and
then it picked up mid-way down my stomach and trailed into my crotch. His
lips grazed my nipple again, lingering this time to suck at it gently a moment
before he growled again and his nose pressed down toward my abs and I felt
his snuffling move closer and closer to the waistband of my sweats.

His hands moved gently again, amazing for such a big guy, and I felt him

untie the drawstring holding up my pants. Then in one motion they were
around my ankles. I tilted my head back, fingers still laced behind, and took
a deep breath. The scent of Carolina jasmine filled my nostrils along with
Jack's own scent. He was crouched now, or maybe crawling, it was hard to
tell. I felt air moving across the hair of my thigh, moving toward my groin
and the growling continued. I almost came again, when I felt something
warm and soft drag across the huge wet spot in my briefs.

"You taste good too, Scott," he said, voice so husky I wondered for a

moment if it was even the same man.

"Thanks, Jack. When do I get to return the f-favor?" I stammered, trying

to keep from shooting my load right then and there. It was made even more
difficult when I felt Jack's thumbs slip into the waistband of the briefs and
slip them down my trembling legs. Somehow I knew that a shaft of moon-
light was pouring through the front window and was illuminating me in all
my naked glory.

I let out a yelp when Jack's massive arms encircled my waist and hoisted

me into the air, my arms coming to rest around his neck and my legs wrap-
ping around his hips by reflex, keeping me from falling. I still couldn't see a
thing, but I could feel that at some point Jack had removed his shirt; my
hands felt a soft fuzz of hair behind his neck and shoulders.

I guessed we were headed to the bedroom, but I guessed wrong: Jack

knelt down, still holding me, and laid me out on something as furry as his
chest. It took a moment to register that my bare ass was sitting on the
bearskin rug in front of the fireplace. A moment later, Jack's strong hands
were gently pushing me back onto my elbows so that I was reclining, knees

Like An Animal 35

up.

"Can I remove the blindfold now?" I asked softly. As much as it turned me

on what we were doing, I desperately wanted to stare into those grey eyes.

"Are you sure you can handle it, Scott?" came the gruff, gravely reply. I

didn't understand, so I questioned further.

"What do you mean exactly? I'm doing fine handling everything you've

been doing so far if that's what you mean?" I knew it wasn't, but I wanted
to hear from Jack's own lips what he was talking about before I removed the
blindfold.

I heard the sound of buttons being undone followed by the rustle of

denim being pulled off. My dick throbbed at the sound and I almost recon-
sidered removing the flannel from over my eyes just for the erotic-factor that
we had going right now.

"No. I'm not… like other men, Scott," He said cryptically.
"Well, no, not like the ones I've met anyway-- not that there've been a lot

or anything," I covered hastily, I certainly didn't want him to think me a slut
even if I was bare-assed and practically begging to be fucked on a bearskin
rug.

"That's not what I mean," he growled the words and my inner voice sud-

denly had a thought it decided it needed to share with me.

He's not human. He's a werewolf.
Out loud I actually answered myself, "That's just dumb."
"What?" Jack asked.
"Oh, uh, nothing, sorry. Just something stupid crossed my mind," I tried

to think of something else to say, but it was difficult to think clearly under
the current circumstances, so I hoped that Jack would forget it and get back
to manhandling me some more.

"What crossed your mind exactly?" he persisted even as his hands ran

from my ankles up to my knees and then gently caressed each inner thigh,
making it very difficult to hold onto a coherent thought.

"I, uh, it was just something s-stupid. I thought-- I thought you might be

a w-werewolf," and even as I said it I chuckled nervously and felt the blood
rush to my face.

Since no more could possibly fit in your dick, huh?
Jack was strangely quiet and for a moment I thought I'd pissed him off

or something. My hands went automatically to the blindfold, but his gripped

Like An Animal 36

my wrists, stopping me.

"What if I am?" he whispered softly.
I opened my mouth to say something sarcastic then shut it. He wasn't kid-

ding, he was completely serious.

We sat for long moments as Jack waited for my reply. I like to consider

myself as a pragmatic sort, as I sat there naked, blindfolded, hard as a steel
beam on a bearskin rug with a man that I thought I could never in a million
years get with, I made my decision.

"It doesn't matter, Jack. What matters right here, right now, is that I want

you as much as you want me."

He exhaled with a gust, and I realized that he'd been holding his breath

the whole time I was debating on whether to let him have his way with me
or try and recover my composure and ask him to leave.

"You're sure about this? I really like you, Scott, and I don't know that I

could stop now if I'd wanted to."

I laughed as I sat up and reached for where it sounded like his face was

in the dark, "Jack, there's nothing I'd like more than to keep this up all
night," I pulled his face closer and our lips met for the first time since we'd
laid eyes on each other two weeks ago. I lost all sense of time as out tongues
danced together. When we parted, my head was swimming again, the smells
of Jack and jasmine mingled in the air.

"Now, come on you beast, and let's get it on," I teased, panting now

myself.

Jack responded with a growl as he tackled me to the floor and we began

the hottest, most incredible sex I've ever had, before or since. The blindfold
came off eventually, so that I was able to look into those incredible storm
cloud eyes and to my great surprise, Jack proved to be much more versatile
than I'd ever expected from first glance.

To this day, nothing gives me a raging hard-on faster than the smell of

Carolina jasmine.

The carnival rumbled into the town on a hot, autumn evening. Wagons

bumped and jolted their way along the road, red painted wheels throwing
up dust that dulled the blue and yellow paint on the bars of cages and wagon
slats. They spread out in the fields at the edge of the town, and there they set
up trestle tables, makeshift booths of weathered, splintering wooden planks
and tents of rubbed and faded crimson velvet.

The good townspeople, nobles and peasants alike, all put on their best

shoes and flocked to see the monsters and magics. Only the priests sniffed
and hemmed and hawed about the devil's work, but that was no doubt jeal-
ousy. Their own sermons never commanded such turnout.

The girl called Giada had been told to watch the monstrous ape. She

didn't mind, although she'd learned long ago not to show what pleased her-
that would assure she'd never be given the task again. But Rodolfo was an
easy charge once his cage had been cleaned and his food bowl filled. He
would sleep or amuse himself with his colored bricks, and she had precious
time to herself. Time to think, or to wander about the fairgrounds.

Wherever the carnival came, the peddlers and jugglers and pie sellers fol-

lowed with their own booths and wares to tempt coin from the festive
crowd. All she could do was look. She had no coin, no concept of possess-
ing anything besides the fraying canvas shoes on her feet and the castoff
clothes she'd painstakingly cut and stitched to fit her diminutive body.

Freaks had no right to exist, far less to own things.
Unless, of course, you had some use. Leigha could contort herself into

beautiful shapes. Andrew could lift a grown man in each hand, or balance a
cow across his shoulders with ease.

But Giada owned no such talent. So she raked filthy straw and fetched

water and peeled potatoes. Or provided sport for the others when they were

Carnival of the Grotesque

A.D.R. Forte

Like An Animal 38

bored. Even with a life spent in Master Stormwind's Traveling Carnival of the
Macabre, she still startled at dead snakes and fits of feigned madness. It irked
her most that she couldn't take her revenge with a well placed cooking skil-
let or kick. Laughing, they sidled out of reach of her short arms and short
legs, and left her to fume.

Truly, the days when she watched Rodolfo were the easiest.
She leaned against a sun-warmed rock, nibbling at a blade of grass, wish-

ing she could hold this moment, make it last and last. She didn't want to
think about the winter and the icy cold days with too few scraps to eat. One
of her canvas shoes- carefully purloined from some merchant's hoard of
children's wares- had a hole.

A sound that wasn't a sound pulled at her consciousness, jolting her fully

awake from drifting daydreams. She sat up. In his cage, Rodolfo dropped his
bricks and lifted his head, sniffing the air, the hint of a growl just audible.

"What is it 'Dolf? What do you see?"
She scanned the clearing. Nothing but fallen leaves and scattered pots and

pans and bits of bone from last night's dinner. Giada frowned and got to her
feet, automatically slipping the small meat knife from her bodice and clutch-
ing it tightly in her fist.

"Who's there?" she called, glad when her voice didn't tremble. She

ignored the wild beating of her heart, the knowledge of her own limits. She
had her knife and what Andrew had taught her in using it. At worst, she'd
wound the bastards.

She held her breath at the sound of a footstep, at the edge of a dark gray

cloak... then he stepped full around the side of one wagon and all the breath
left her in a single gasp.

She stared up at him. Shoulders as broad as Master Stormwind's. No,

broader. Only the soft folds of the cloak disguised their width. But nothing
disguised the sharp lines of his face, made somehow sharper by the fall of
long, pale hair across his shoulders. Dark eyes looked her over. He arched
one fair eyebrow and tilted his chin at the knife in her hand.

"I mean no harm, lady. You may put that away."
For a moment she hesitated. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Rodolfo

sniff, snort and fall back onto his haunches. He picked up a block. The
stranger still stood beside the wagon, watching her.

How could she refuse? She would do anything to have him stay so that

she might look at him a little longer. Might drink in his beauty- such per-

Like An Animal 39

fection it made her heart ache. The knife went back into her bodice and she
sat down hard on the rock, hands between her knees to still their trembling.

"Who are you and what do you want here?"
If she couldn't appear intimidating, she might still try to sound that way.

With luck, he might take her staring for something other than awe.

He walked to Rodolfo's cage and stopped a hands-breadth away.
"I have no desire to be horrified or terrified by the attractions of your car-

nival." He reached one hand to the bars and Rodolfo looked up, bared his
teeth. She made a sound, a strangled cry of warning, but he didn't appear to
hear her. Or if he did, he didn't care. She watched in horror as his fingers
slipped through the bars and Rodolfo stood on all fours, hackles rising.

"And creatures trapped in cages do not please me."
Rodolfo stared at the stranger for another heartbeat, back arched in dis-

dain, and Giada tasted blood from the skin on her knuckles. But she couldn't
look away to see what damage she'd inflicted on the fists she pressed against
her mouth. She stared, mesmerized as the ape lifted one hand in turn and
reached through the bars to the stranger's unprotected chest.

Nestled in the lace at his throat a great, blue stone caught the light. Head

tilted to the side, Rodolfo poked at it, but the stranger didn't move. Hand still
outstretched, he waited until Rodolfo sat back with a satisfied grunt, and
with another grunt, reached out to take his hand. Only then did the stranger
smile.

Giada breathed again, even as envy prickled at the back of her mind.

Rodolfo never shook hands with anyone but Master Stormwind or her, and
those times were rare enough. Only the animals- Rodolfo and the white tiger
and the giant python- ever looked at her without disdain, ever seemed some-
times pleased at her presence.

And now this stranger came, with his beautiful face and his movements

silent and graceful as a tiger's, and stole even that from her.

She must have made some sound, for he turned, and at once she looked

down. Found that she had hold of a piece of skirt, twisting it to death in her
hands.

"I am sorry if I have disturbed you, lady. I tend to wander."
"Oh no..." she began, then fell silent, for she looked up and his gaze was

fixed on her. She watched the hint of a frown mar the smooth skin between
his brows.

"No. I have distressed you." He came to her side and knelt, careless of

Like An Animal 40

dust and grass, and gently pried her hand from her skirt, cupped his fingers
under hers. She looked away, ashamed at the sight of her stubby fingers, the
dirty, broken nails.

But he bent low over her hand, the whisper of his breath warm on her

knuckles, as if she were a queen. Instead of a dwarf in rags. For a few
moments only he knelt there, then he looked up and she stared yet again, for
his eyes seemed to change before her. Gold circled the brown, as it hadn't
before.

"Forgive me. I will leave now."
And before she could collect herself, before she could make sense of the

turmoil in her head and the mad flutter of her heart, he was gone.

****

She thought maybe she had dreamed it all when evening fell and the oth-

ers returned with curses and chatter, when she once again became an object
of scorn and derision.

"Gia, bring us some stew!"
"Then come sit on my lap!"
She ignored their mocking laughter, avoided the drunken groping as she

ferried plates.

"Gia! Take some wine up to Master's wagon. Move sharp! An' don't get in

the way. Master's got a visit from an important gentlemun!"

For half a heartbeat her stomach turned over with hope, but she stifled

the glimmer. It would be the town mayor or some other official to haggle
over the price for them to remain the winter in town. At least they would be
staying. And if they stayed, she might see him again.

She lugged the wine flagon up the steps and poured cups for Master

Stormwind and the fat man who sat across from him, beaming from ear to
ear.

"No, good sir. Not a one," he was saying while Master Stormwind regard-

ed him with an expression of disbelief and not a small amount of mistrust.

"It's the blessing of the church you see," continued the fat man. "The

saint's own bones keep us protected." He leaned forward, cup in hand, as if
confiding a great secret.

Giada rubbed a cloth across an already clean spot on a stool in a shadowy

corner, moving as slowly and carefully as she could.

"There's tales of a giant white wolf that roams the forest under a winter

moon, keeping all manner of vermin from the town. The very soul of St.

Like An Animal 41

Martin himself. So you see, you see? It's a blessed place this town." He
grinned, and wine sloshed over the edge of his cup as he sat back with a
thump.

"So. Is it not reasonable that the privilege of being allowed to camp here

will cost you a fraction more? Just a fraction." He made a piggy little face
and wiggled his beringed fingers. "A mere fraction."

Master Stormwind shrugged and sipped his wine.

"A great, white wolf you say? I could use such a beast in my menagerie."
"Of course you could! And you might capture it yet! Do you see? What a

bargain!"

The townsman seemed to have forgotten that the wolf was supposed to

be the soul of the saint. Giada put the cloth down and slipped away, back into
the noise of the camp. She didn't care a fig for wolves and ridiculous stories
of saints. She only wanted to see him again- the noble, sad stranger who had
knelt to her and held her hand.

And stolen her heart.

****

With the North wind came sleet. The townspeople huddled around their

fireplaces, the carnival around campfires and in tents.

Giada couldn't sleep.
The full moon kept finding its way through the cracks of the wagon

where she huddled between the cages of Kala the tiger and Rodolfo, as close
as she dared to get in an effort to steal their warmth. But, still sleepless and
cold, she finally crawled out of the wagon with her blanket wrapped around
her shoulders.

The remains of a campfire languished in the center of the clearing, black

against the white ground. Giada squinted, dazzled by the contrast of light
and shadow. When she looked up, when she looked at the expanse of snow-
dusted field between her and the fringe of the forest, she didn't yet trust her
eyes. She thought they tricked her, creating the ghostly white, lupine shape
out of her own imagination and low hanging branches.

But no imagination could have given voice to the long, plaintive howl as

it stood, balanced on its hind legs, and pointed its snout to the pale sky. No
imagination could have made the hair rise on her skin or the tears prickle
behind her eyes at the loneliness and danger in its voice. She hugged the
blanket tighter and watched him across the field.

In her mind, she crossed to him, touched the coarse, soft fur electric with

Like An Animal 42

magic and felt her own mundane blood dance in answer to his. She looked
into feral eyes, and recognized something there that spoke to her own heart.
Monster. Wanderer. She felt the pain of claws on her skin...

But it was only the bite of wind through her blanket. In reality she stood

rooted beside the dead fire, toes going numb from the snow that soaked into
her shoes. Moonlit field and tree line lay empty. Shivering, she turned and
sought the wagon, and the comforting snores and snuffles of ordinary crea-
tures while she waited for sunrise.

****

For the first time in her life, she slept until the sun rose high in the sky,

waking only when raised voices intruded.The wagon door had been opened
and Kala and Rodolfo's cages stood empty. She heard the rattle of chains and
Andrew's heavy voice rumbling over unintelligible words.

Yawning, she made her way to the wagon door. Outside, Master

Stormwind stood in the middle of the campsite with Rodolfo's chain
wrapped around his fist and the great ape at his side. Rodolfo sat picking at
a wrinkled apple, unconcerned by the hubbub of humans around him.

"... could track it wi' the dog?"
"That mangy...? Couldn't track a rabid horse."
"...never seen the like... must be enormous!"
The words ran over her in a babble, catching at her consciousness in bits

and pieces. Enough for her to understand, even had she not seen what the
others gibbered at: the great canine prints in the fresh snow. Prints no dog
could make, nor any wolf for that matter. She felt her heart jump up into her
throat, stuck there as if it would choke her.

"Gia!"
"There's Gia. We're gonna hunt the wolf, Gia!"
"Better wake up before we use you as bait..."
The words danced in her mind. Hunt him? Trap him in a cage like

Rodolfo or Kala? Like some mindless beast?

Half of her rebelled: he would tear them to shreds. Send them flying with

a flick of his powerful paws like scattered leaves. The rest of her cringed.

Trapped. For them to poke and prod and lead on a chain until the light

died in his eyes. She couldn't bear it, couldn't bear the thought of it. Ignoring
excited voices, ignoring hands that sought to grasp her, pull her arm, involve
her in this horror, she pushed through a forest of legs and elbows.

Men from the town had joined the babel. One brandished a blunderbuss,

Like An Animal 43

rattling a pouch full of metal that jingled. It looked like a bagged porcupine.
Giada took one look at it and fled.

****

Her legs ached by the time she'd reached the road. When she passed the

eastern gate of the town, pain shot down her spine with each breath. But still
she kept walking, putting one inch after another between herself and the
campsite. Wind whistled over the winter-bound fields, nipping at her ears,
and she halted long enough to pull her hair loose. The land she crossed
boasted crops in the summer. Now she stumbled over snow-covered fur-
rows, soaking her feet.

If she didn't get them dry soon, the skin would harden and turn yellow.

She might even lose a toe as Joe had done two winters ago when he passed
the night outside in a drunken stupor, but the thought made her smile grim-
ly. Wouldn't that be something? Maybe she'd keep the toe in a bottle, have
Master Stormwind put it on display.

A hysterical giggle tried to bubble up, but she was too winded. She ought

to stop, she thought. But where the devil was she?

She'd circled back nearly to the town. The gateless backside of the north

wall faced her, unsympathetic, gray as the sky that had covered itself with
ugly clouds now. If it snowed, her situation would turn truly worrisome. She
had barely the energy to make it to the town, not that the town guaranteed
any sort of safety. Hugging her arms, she wondered if she had more to fear
from the storm or the townsfolk.

"Lady!"
She spun, slipping in a patch of slushy ice and mud, and nearly fell. A

hand caught her elbow.

"Are you hurt?"
For a minute she couldn't find words, distracted by the sudden, fierce

heat of his closeness and the startled thudding of her heart. She barely
glanced at the pale face and pale hair towering over her before she focused
on the shiny silver of his belt buckle and shook her head.

"I'm fine." God in heaven, he was warm. "I'm cold."
The words came out of their own accord and she winced as she heard her

own voice. She sounded like a beggar whining for alms. Shaking her head
again, she yanked her arm free of his grasp and took a step backward. She
tilted her chin up to level with the second button on his waistcoat.

Like An Animal 44

"I was on my way back to the camp."
"To join the wolfhunt?"
Finally she looked up, all the way up, into brown eyes ringed with gold.

And lit with feral light. Hair as creamy-gold as a ghost wolf's fur. She heard
her breath escape in a little squeak of shock, but here in plain, honest day-
light, there was no denying it.

"You. You..."
"You are freezing." He glanced around and back at her. "The north sentry

post isn't far. Will you go with me? I can start a fire."

Giada nodded. She was shivering so hard she had to clench her teeth

together to stop their chatter. She heard a flap and a rustle and the weight of
some soft, heavy garment enfolded her shoulders and back.

"Oh. It will get dirty!" she protested.
He paused in the act of tying the ends of the cloak under her chin and

smiled.

"Do you think I care for that?"
She had no answer as she followed him to the sentry post, hands full of

the long cloak as she tried to keep it from trailing in the snow. Silent, she sat
in a corner, hugging herself and watching him pile wood in the dusty grate.
The tinder box had no flint. He swore at it, and she smiled.

"Here." She dug the trusty knife out with cold fingers and held it to him.

She decided she liked the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he
returned her smile.

"Use this."
He reached out to take the proffered handle with a small bow.
"Ah. My thanks. I much prefer when the blade isn't pointed at me."
"Sorry," she mumbled, face burning at the recollection of their first meet-

ing, and he laughed as he knelt to light the kindling.

"Don't apologize to me, dear lady. I should not have frightened you as I

did."

A shadow passed over his face. Even though he knelt with his head turned

in profile to her, she could see the way his lips tightened around the words,
the frown. She longed to smooth it away.

"You didn't frighten me." She took a deep breath, swallowed. "I was jeal-

ous of you making friends with Rodolfo."

"With...?" He turned to stare at her in confusion for half an instant and

she grinned. The vulnerable expressions made him more beautiful, soft.

Like An Animal 45

Gentle. Then his brow cleared as he understood, and he laughed again.

"Ah. I see."
And she could hear the pity in his tone, but it didn't anger her. He under-

stood that allies came not by choice, but by circumstance. For her. For him.

"You know about the wolfhunt?"
This time he sat down on the dusty floor, careless of his fine trousers and

looked at her.

"Yes," he said, quietly. "I know."
He looked down at the dust on the floor between his legs, then at the

leaping flames of the small fire. Giada took the chance to study the way his
skin stretched over his cheekbones, the shape of his lips.

"Every so often they forget," he said, as if telling a story. "They forget the

saint and grow vicious with the need for the wolf's blood. They collect their
silver and their crosses and their hatred. I find reasons to be called away on
business, or to court. The fever dies and they pray to their dead bones under
the church and implore God himself to save their chickens." A smile twist-
ed his lips. "The absent nobleman returns, and they praise the wolf again."

He turned back to her, eyes still glowing with the fire's reflection. This

time, his smile curved, but bitterness still lingered at the edges.

"All I can do is hope your friends are as vile with the use of a bow and a

blunderbuss as the others."

Speechless, all her own shallow miseries forgotten, she nodded.
"They are." It came out with a croak and she cleared her throat. "They're

as like to shoot themselves in the foot as anything they aim at. But what can
you expect from a crock of misfits?"

He threw his head back and laughed and laughed.
"Thank you for that," he said when his mirth faded. His gaze fixed hers,

and she felt her breath catch.

"Then I have nothing to fear."
She looked at him for a time in silence. The scent of his body surround-

ed her in woolen folds, the heat of his fire warmed her face. And here he sat,
with her, while they planned and plotted his death.

"Do you not get lonely?" she asked.
He didn't answer, not in words. She rose and walked to him, and he put

his hands on her waist as she stood between his outstretched legs.

Her body had grown accustomed to the hands of men grabbing, pinch-

ing, squeezing. Impersonal, lustful touches that she'd learned to ignore, to

Like An Animal 46

dismiss, to fend off with the point of her knife when the groper proved to
be too drunk to understand the warning in her voice.

But his touch melted through the cynicism. The heat of his hands burned

through her clothing, set her blood on fire.

In the half-dark, lit with dancing shadows, red and orange, she let him

pull her off balance. She let her weight fall against his chest, and she closed
her eyes while his hands smoothed her wind-tangled hair. No need to push
away. No need to keep some part of herself, to hold it and protect it. Not
from him. Her breaths came with the rise and fall of his chest, matching its
rhythm. Breathing with him, while her blood tingled at his fingers on her
scalp.

Black shapes of flame danced behind her eyelids, spots and flashes of

color. They were pieces of her, she thought. He'd unraveled her with his
touch- limbs and flesh and hair- and she whirled like burnt ash. Unmade
from the shape she'd held before.

She felt the tips of his fingers move under her chin and opened her eyes.

He loomed over her, a dark shape, not man or beast. Something else.
Something caught between. Something beautiful and grotesque.

"Gia," he whispered.
"How do you know my name?"
His fingers moved to her cheek, pressing the flesh against the bone like a

sculptor molding clay.

"I asked," he said. His voice ragged and strained, his composure as frayed

as her own. "I learned all I could. I had to. I couldn't think but I thought of
you after that day." His grip tightened on her chin, almost at the threshold
of pain. But his thumb brushed like silk over her lips, parted them, teased
her lower lip so that she ached and ached.

"And after last night. When I saw you standing in the moonlight. God

help me. Do you see?"

"Yes." Yes, she saw. She knew.
At her strangled half-cry of need he drew her mouth to his. His arm

tensed across her back, squeezing her to his chest, half lifting her from the
ground as he kissed her. She hadn't realized his lips would be so soft. Men
were hard, rough, demanding. His kiss demanded, but it caressed too, like
his hand moving down her back and stroking the curve of her ass through
her skirts. Instead, it was her own body that felt hard, hot, angry with need.
She felt her lips bruise against his teeth. She heard the low rumble in his

Like An Animal 47

chest that didn't sound human at all.

Breathing hard, she broke the kiss and pulled back to look at him. He

drew one finger down her face.

"Not here. Not with you."
She stepped back, nearly tripping on the cloak as her trembling legs

rebelled at supporting her, but he held her until she was steady. Hands still
linked with hers, he got to his feet. He looked down at her and smiled, and
she felt the tremor run through his body, through their joined hands.

Shadow slid over his body. It rippled like water. She felt rough pads and

nails against her palms. Cloth tore as the wolf's form burst seams and popped
buttons. The paws under her hands shook again and she heard his cry, a
human cry of agony that grew higher and higher in pitch, blending with the
wolf's howl.

She bit her lip, but it was over. The remnants of clothing lay scattered

across the floor. Her palms grasped at air. Lit by red fire this time, instead of
silver moonlight, the giant wolf waited.

Her hands wouldn't work as she knelt to scoop the shredded cloth from

the floor. She scrabbled to find telltale buttons, embroidered velvet, the
things that would give him away. But her fingers seemed to know he'd trans-
formed for her sake, despite the danger, despite the risk, and numb with
guilt and fear, they turned clumsy.

A great paw, three times the size of her fist, stilled her efforts. The sharp,

cruel claws raked across the floor, setting Giada's teeth on edge. He tossed
pieces of cloth and leather and metal into the fire, rearing up on his hind
legs again like a man to stalk towards the grate. Giada scrambled to her feet,
clutching the armful of scraps she'd managed to gather. She dumped them
into the fire, and together they watched the fire flare and swallow all traces
of the nobleman.

He turned to her and dropped to all fours again. Head to the ground, he

crouched on the floor, and she pulled herself onto his back, grabbing fistfuls
of his fur for handholds, clinging clumsily to his neck for balance, but he
never made a sound. Silent as a shadow, he rose once she was safely astride.

She caught her breath at the sudden rush of cold as they sprang into the

falling snow and falling dark. They were running, flying through the snow
like phantoms.

Except that phantoms didn't gasp for breath in the icy air. The hearts of

phantoms didn't pound with fear and exertion. Phantoms weren't flesh and

Like An Animal 48

bone and physical strength. She shivered, not from the cold, for his cloak
was still warm around her shoulders, but from the play of powerful muscles
between her spread legs. Her face flushed with shame at the heat rising in
her groin, but she couldn't ignore the knowledge it was his body beneath
hers, regardless of guise.

They ran through the forest, and she bent low over his back as branches

whipped by, as they weaved around the trunks of trees and he leapt over
stones. She couldn't twist away, couldn't shift herself to avoid the relentless
pressure on her aroused flesh with each step, but still she fought it. She
clenched her muscles against the rising desire until they burned with the
strain. And at last, thank God, their mad dash slowed.

He halted, panting.
She struggled and slid down before he could kneel, desperate to regain

control of her wayward need. It was dark here under the canopy of branch-
es so thick that even winter-bare, they blotted out the sky. But as he paced
forward, a crack of light appeared, illuminating the front of the tiny hut.The
light widened. A door swung open.

Silhouetted against the golden glow, the wolf turned to her. Waiting.

Giada took a deep breath and followed.

She walked through the door of the hut, and stopped dead in her tracks.

Marble walls hung with silk surrounded her. Glass contraptions hung from
the high ceiling, filled with light trapped in each tiny globe. Her feet sank
into a rug the color of wine, and somewhere she heard the tinkle and splash
and running burble of water.

Amazed, she turned to find the wolf. And found the man instead.
Giada flushed and looked at his feet, not daring to let her gaze linger on

the pale golden curls that for an instant only had filled her vision. But his
feet proved no safer. His bare ankles reminded her of his bare legs, strong
and magnificently sculpted, running with the wolf's rhythmic stride. She
could feel dampness between her thighs that had nothing to do with the
melting snow on her clothes.

For something to do with her hands, she fumbled at the neck of the

cloak, trying to untie it. She heard the whisper of his movement, smelled the
scent of his sweat as he knelt before her and reached for the strings, and she
trembled. There was no hiding from it now.

"Gia," he said as the cloak fell from her shoulders. "Look at me."
She looked at his face, pale skin stained with rose from exertion or from

Like An Animal 49

the warmth of this place where no fire burned that she could see. Or from
something else.

"My beauty. Flame-haired witch."
With each sentence he kissed her cold lips, warming them. Distracting

her from the loosened laces of her bodice. From her skirt and petticoat pool-
ing around her ankles. Gooseflesh rose on her arms as his hands slid beneath
her shift and she reached instinctively to clutch his shoulders. For something
to hold onto as all her equilibrium shattered.

His hands slid up her legs, her thighs, trailing shivers all through her skin.

She felt him cup her buttocks, kneading the flesh and sending tremors of
need through her groin. She moaned a little, and he kissed her again. Long
and deep this time, tongue seeking hers as his hands played with her naked
skin. As one of his hands slipped over her buttocks, between her legs to tease
her there, where she longed for his touch the most. Her nipples rubbed the
loose cloth of her shift, friction that only added to the tension between her
thighs where his fingers played over the slick flesh, and she moaned against
his mouth.

She felt his lips stretch in a smile, felt the vibration of laughter in his

chest. He kissed her lips lightly once. Then he turned his attention to her
neck, her bare shoulder where the chemise had slipped. His free hand slid
up her waist, raising the chemise, and his thumb brushed her nipple. Her
legs turned to jelly.

In a haze of lust, she felt him lifting the chemise, felt the material brush

her face as he pulled it off her raised arms. She looked at his face, at the gold-
en hair dark with snow and sweat, at his feral eyes, and she loved him.

She lay on the soft rug and he parted her legs. He bent over her, and she

held her breath. His hair brushed her thighs, as his breath warmed her skin
an instant before she felt the sweet pressure of his mouth sucking at her nip-
ple. She arched, hips rising off the floor even as his hand spread the wet folds
between her legs again. He kissed her breasts, teeth scraping the tender flesh
of nipples already sore from his mouth, while he stroked her.

She cried out, shivering with feverish need, heat rising in her belly.

Flooding between her legs. Rising in a long, slow, aching pulse that she
thought would never stop. She would die first, unable to draw breath, while
the desire ebbed and peaked endlessly between her legs.

But it did end. She lay shivering and breathless, eyes closed, while he

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kissed her cheeks and lips and eyelids.

"Beautiful. So beautiful," she heard him say. Beautiful. To him. It scarcely

seemed possible.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. He lifted her and carried her to

a great cushion the color of blood roses, and there he laid her like a prize
jewel. Once more she parted her legs for him. This time, she looked down at
his erect cock, and she imagined its girth within her. She felt her body
respond to the hunger with wet heat, welcoming the pain of his entrance,
even though her fingernails dug into the cushion and she tasted blood from
her bitten lip.

She welcomed him, her lover, her wolf. Filling her, hurting her, bringing

her to the edge again. And then the sensation of falling again, falling and
falling and falling, the tart smell of sex filling her nostrils. She heard his cry
of release, watched him shudder, hair hanging around his face, head bent as
he gripped her thighs and pressed into her again. Again. Again.

Hers. Terrible and beautiful and alone. Like her. Except for this moment

where they were one.

****

"Where have you been, Gia? You've been gone for days!"
"Did you run away to warn the wolf?"
They laughed and swilled wine. She ignored them, and this time they

didn't try to touch her. The jeers and jabs died away. Belatedly she remem-
bered that she'd lost her knife at the sentry post, but she didn't think she
would need it anymore.

She circled past the dwindling campfire and her drunken companions

and climbed into the wagon, ignoring the protest of her thighs. From their
cages, the animals looked up at her sleepily, scenting something other. Kala's
tail twitched, thumped the floor once, and then the great cat put her head
down again. Rodolfo looked at her a moment longer, sniffed and rolled over
to sleep. Smiling, Giada went to her usual place in the corner. Someone had
taken her blankets, but she shook out the bundle under her arm. A dark blue
wool cloak much too big for her.

She undid her hair and shook it down over her shoulders as she lay to

sleep. No moon shone through the slats of the wagon tonight. It was pitch
dark outside. She imagined that she could hear the sound of a carriage's
wheels rattling off into the night, to somewhere distant. Somewhere beside

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the sea where mountains rose like watchful guardians at its back.

Somewhere perhaps, that the carnival might pass through in the spring.

Yes. She might suggest that to Master Stormwind in time. A smile still play-
ing about her lips, she closed her eyes.

It's been three days since we last saw each other; I was trying to see how

long I could go. I'm trying not to fall in love. The part of my mind fueled by
logic is telling me not to let myself go inside. It's time to pull away a little;
we're getting too close.Yet, the part of my mind fueled by emotion is telling
me that following rules means nothing in the face of love. I won't let my life
decisions be dictated by society; my heart is my own. Still, it's risky in too
many ways. It could be dangerous. My mind still debating with itself, I fol-
low Cyn into her apartment.

Kit-Kat is waiting eagerly at the door, holding in her mouth a piece of

blue yarn left over from my knitting. She drops the yarn to mew as she cir-
cles around Cyn's legs. Cyn bends to give the cat a hurried stroke, then rush-
es to the kitchen to check her food and water before leading me down the
hall, her expressions and movements distant and hysterical. I rub her back as
she opens her bedroom door and closes it behind us. She sits on the bed and
I sit beside her.

"What's wrong, my sweet Cyn?" I ask for perhaps the tenth time today.

"Tell me, please." It's difficult not to wonder if she's going to break up with
me, and I'm shaken by the possibility more than I want to admit. I fear that
losing her is the price I'm doomed to pay for keeping my secret, or perhaps
it is a punishment for my deceit. Without thinking, I raise my hand to fidg-
et with my hair, twirling one of my light brown curls nervously around my
fingers. It's a bad habit.

In lieu of a reply, Cyn begins to cry, dropping her head to let her black

silky hair fall like a veil over her face. I feel helpless. I take her hand and wait,
trying to act calm and supportive though I can feel my anxious anticipation
rising with every passing moment. I want to be patient, but after a time the
quiet starts to make me feel frenzied and sick, so I reach out and tuck her

Dark Divine Light

Becca Ovadia

Like An Animal 53

silky hair behind her ear. She turns and meets my gaze, her cheeks flushed.
In her jet eyes I can see her pressing desire to unburden herself, yet her
silence is broken only by the sounds of her sharp intakes of breath as she
weeps. I can't find the right words, so I lean toward her and kiss her lips. A
soft muffled sob escapes from her throat as she presses to me, and I lay her
gently backwards onto the bed. I lie down next to her and run my hand
down her side, lingering over her breast, as I kiss her hard. I want to make
love to her. I need to show her what I can't figure out how to verbalize. I pull
away from the kiss and drop to her neck. I alternate between biting and kiss-
ing, like I know she likes.

Cyn moans amidst her tears and slides her hand into my hair.
"Ree, wait," she murmurs regretfully, and I raise my head.
"Whatever it is," I struggle after a few moments, "whatever you have to

tell me, it'll be ok." I caress her skin and kiss her neck again and again, want-
ing to do more to reassure her. I want to let myself fall in love with her right
now. I want to tell her I love her and always will. I know I shouldn't say such
things. The rules were made for a reason; who am I to risk everything for
everyone, just to satisfy my own desires?

We both turn our heads at the sound of the apartment door being

unlocked, backed by muffled voices, which I quickly identify as Kim and
Jeremy's. Kim says, "Fuck, we're nearly late. You just had to finish your
fucking painting, didn't you? We almost didn't get here in time."

"We did, didn't we?" Jeremy snaps back as he opens the door. "That's the

important bit."

"They're here," Cyn whispers as she jolts up and out of my embrace. She

stands and hurriedly sheds her clothes.

"What -" I begin, startled. Kim's voice interrupts me.

"Cyn - are you ready?" Kim calls through the door, "Did you take off

your clothes? You've got fifteen minutes. I'm getting your water now. I'm so
sorry we're late."

"Yes, they're off, you're not too late and, well, Ree is here, and, well," Cyn

pauses and looks at me as she continues, "I was thinking she might stay
over." She blushes and I exhale in relief; I need her tonight, and I can tell she
needs me too. I don't want to be careful anymore.

Kim opens the door abruptly, spilling water from the large barrel in her

arms onto the floor.

"What?" she exclaims. She sets the water down and places her hands on

Like An Animal 54

her hips. "I'm sure I heard you wrong." I stare at the barrel of water, then at
Cyn, now standing nude beside her bed, naked in a way I've never seen her
before. She looks terribly raw, and I am frightened for her. I have no ideas
what's going on, but I don't like hearing Kim yell at Cyn, so I glare and step
close to her.

"Kim, could you excuse us," I ask with very little tone of question in my

voice.

"But it's not safe," Kim nearly shouts at Cyn over my shoulder.
I step closer to Kim. I don't care how long she's known Cyn; no one can

scream at my girlfriend, especially not when she's already upset.

"Get out, Kim," I say, giving her my stoniest of looks.

She stares at me. "Doree, you have no fucking idea what you've gotten

yourself involved in."

I stare back at her. "It doesn't matter. Get the fuck out."
Kim looks to Cyn again.
"Kim, go," Cyn says, her voice low and strange.

Kim throws her hands up in frustration. "Jesus, you're fucking insane,

Cynthia," she shouts, then turns to me. "I'm serious, Doree, do you even
know what's going to happen here?"

"It doesn't matter," I say again. I want to believe that Cyn and I can work

through anything, and it irritates me that Kim apparently disagrees.

She grabs me suddenly by the shoulders. "You don't get it," Kim snaps,

her face too close to mine. "You could die."

Kim can be a drama queen, and I don't usually take her too seriously, yet

something in her face troubles me. I turn to Cyn, but she's hiding behind
her hair and doesn't raise her head to look at me. I go to her and place my
hand gently on her upper arm.

"Please," I speak softly as I turn her head toward me, "tell me."
She pauses, then nods, her face wet. She looks to Kim.
"Kim, please, can we be alone?"
Kim makes a noise of exasperated shock and looks at us with an aston-

ished and irritated glower. She open her mouth then closes it again, staring
at us, then throws her hands up and turns to leave without another word.
She storms out of the room and slams the door behind her.

I stare at Cyn. I can barely stand the suspense. I want to scream. I'm not

anguishing over the possibility of her breaking up with me; I can tell now
that this is about her. She's in pain and I need to help her, but her silence is

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stopping me, and it's maddening. She sits down on the bed and I sit beside
her and take her hand. She jumps at my touch, then squeezes my hand
briefly as she takes a deep breath.

"Okay, this is nothing you could have guessed," she begins, staring at her

hand in mine on her lap. "You're probably going to think I'm crazy, but…"
Her voice catches in fear, and her face drains of color. I press her hand and
she goes on. "Well, the thing is, Ree, I'm a werewolf."

For an instant, I suspect I've heard her wrong. Quickly realizing that

nothing appropriate for the context sounds at all like "werewolf," I try to
remember the full moons that have passed since we met. Had I never tried
to make plans on those nights or had Cyn made up excuses? At the thought,
I realize that tonight is a full moon, and suddenly it all makes sense.

"Do you think I'm insane?" Cyn stares anxiously into my eyes. "Do you

want to stop seeing me?"

I want to tell her that I'll never leave her, that there's nothing we can't

work out, including this. Still not sure how to express myself, I pull her to
me and kiss her, wrapping my arms around her tightly. When I've gathered
my thoughts enough to reply, I end the kiss.

"No, no, my sweet Cyn, of course I don't want to leave you."

She sobs in relief and collapses against me, laying her head on my lap.

She tries to speak, but her lamentation steals her breath. I stroke her hair.

"It's ok," I say, desperate to sooth her, "Cyn -"
She bolts up suddenly.

"It's the full moon tonight," she says frantically. "Kim's right; you have to

go. I don't know what I was thinking, wanting you to stay. The wolf could -
I could kill you." She winces and stands up. "It won't be long now before I
change," she says, avoiding eye contact as she backs away from me.

"I know, but it's okay," I say as I reach out for her and take her hands,

wanting to weep at the thought of being apart from her tonight. "I still want
to be with you. I want to see you, Cyn, tonight, always." I stand and pull her
close to me. "I want to know all the sides of you. Please, Cyn, let me stay."

Her mouth drops part way open and she stares at me with a questioning

expression.

"Please," I say again after a few moments.
"But, Ree," she stammers, "I - I don't know if it's me you'd see tonight."

She pauses, then pulls her hands from mine and turns away. "And I could

Like An Animal 56

hurt you."

It's time to tell her. I have to tell her. Fuck the rules, I need to. I can't stand

lying to her anymore, not after she's opened up to me, not after she's risked
everything to be honest with me. I want her to know me. I know they'd say
I'm being selfish, but I don't care.

"Cyn," I speak hesitantly, "I have something to tell you too."

"I don't have much time," Cyn cries deliriously, seeming not to have

heard me, her back still turned. "I need to make sure you get this, Ree,
before I change," she says, her voice small and hysterical. "Kim's going to
come back soon to get you out of here. She locks me in here and her and
Jeremy make sure I don't get out." She turns suddenly to face me and locks
her ebony eyes to my hazel ones. "Do you understand what you'll see if you
stay, Ree?"

Tears are running down her face and onto her bare chest, and I reach out

to wipe the fresh drops from her cheeks.

"Do you get it?" she continues. "Do you know what else Kim and Jeremy

do? They bring me raw meat in the middle of the night." She appears utter-
ly disgusted as she speaks, "I need to eat raw flesh, Ree. Ree, I…"

Her voice is swallowed by her wailing, and I move to embrace her. She

buries her face in my neck, muffling the sound of her weeping and spilling
her salty sadness onto my skin. I am relieved to have her in my arms again.

"It's alright," I say firmly, wanting to cry too but wanting more to be

strong for her. I pull her gently from my neck and look into her eyes. "I've
seen that sort of thing before, listen, please…" I need to talk fast; we're run-
ning out of time. "You won't -"

Kim bangs twice on the door, interrupting my revelation. At the sound

of her knock, I'm suddenly terrified that I won't get a last kiss before the
change. I take Cyn's confused face in my hands and kiss her passionately. She
kisses me back with urgency, and we press together until Kim barges in.

"I need to lock her in now, Doree," Kim yells.
I step toward her. "Lock me in with her," I say forcefully.
"What, did she not tell you?"

"No, she told me, werewolf, I got it, now go." I'm angry at Kim for using

even a moment of Cyn's precious time before the change. "Listen," I com-
mand, "I know everything, and we've taken precautions. We're fine."

Suddenly Cyn gasps in pain and drops to the floor. She crawls to the

white shag area rug at the foot of her bed and curls her body up into a neat

Like An Animal 57

ball, making a low, continual growl.

"Get out and lock us in," I bark at Kim. "Can't you see it's happening?"

When she continues to resist I try half-heartedly to hold onto my temper,
but give up quickly. I'm tired of holding back. I grab onto her and toss her
from the room, being careful not to do any lasting damage. I can see the sur-
prise in her face as she's propelled from the doorway. I don't look very
strong. I slam the door closed, then hear Jeremy come running to help Kim
up, followed by Kim's voice, muffled and angry, telling Jeremy of our mor-
tal stubbornness.

Soon we hear a series of locks clicking and keys turning as Kim secures

our confinement. I've always wondered why Cyn's bedroom door has so
many locks. We hear Kim and Jeremy's footsteps receding into the living
room, followed by the television clicking on.

I rush to Cyn and sit on the rug beside her. "What can I do?" I ask plead-

ingly as I run my hands over her bare skin. She uncurls her body and climbs
on top of me, her eyes suddenly wild.

"Ree, take your clothes off too," she growls as she tugs at my shirt. I shed

my clothes immediately. She growls loudly and bites down hard on my neck
before making a sound that's part-moan and part-howl as she rolls off of me.
"It's going to happen," she cries. "It's started already, Ree…"

She reaches out for my arm as if drowning, but the instant she touches

my skin, she jerks her hand away as if it had been burned. "Ree," she says in
a shaky voice, "will you still want me when I'm the wolf?"

"Yes," I reply without hesitation.
She peers into my face, and the words seem to spill from her lips as the

tears spill from her eyes, "Will you still make love to me when I'm the wolf?"
Her eyes are wide with trepidation and I notice the small points of wolf ears
beginning to rise out of her dark hair. Her human ears are receding slowly
into themselves, and a thin layer of downy fur is growing all over her skin.
I reach out to pet her. She sighs and nudges her head into my hand.

"Yes, yes, my sweet Cyn."
"But," she growls softly, "I will kill -"

Cyn screams as the change begins in earnest. She writhes on the floor

and snarls, "step back." I obey, and watch from a few feet away as her body
swiftly morphs into the body of a large, shaggy wolf. I try to detect the stages
of her metamorphosis, but it all happens in a flash. Cyn stands up, showing
her full size, and I stumble back despite myself. She growls loudly as she

Like An Animal 58

lunges at me and pins me against the floor with her immense, heavy paws.

I gasp for breath and look up at her. "You're beautiful, Cyn," I wheeze,

my heart beating violently. I want to reach that part of her that knows me,
and cares for me. I have a stubborn sort of faith that I can do it.

Cyn freezes for a long moment, staring down into my eyes, then steps

off of my sternum. I draw in a deep breath as I sit up and slowly put out my
hand for her to smell. She sniffs my hand cautiously and stares at me search-
ingly, growling a warning.

"It's me, Cyn," I keep my voice very quiet, "Do you remember me, my

sweet Cyn? Can I pet you?"

Something deep within her eyes gains a sudden focus, and she silences

her growl. She bends her head and pushes it gently forward into my hand.

I sigh happily and scratch behind her large triangular ears.

"Cyn, listen," I begin again, hoping she can understand me, "what I

wanted to say before is that you won't hurt me because," I have to force the
words to come, "well, because I'm a lot more durable then you'd think." I
smile self-consciously at my phrasing. I didn't realize quite how hard it
would be to confide in her about this. I trust Cyn completely, as a woman
and as a wolf, but I'm so used to keeping my secret from everyone in this
world. I take a deep breath and try again.

"What I mean -"

She pounces on me again, growling as she knocks me back onto the

floor. I can barely breathe under the weight of her full moon form. When I
try to speak, I only hear a weak, high pitched sound. I give up and let myself
get lost in the moment.

The growl Cyn makes now is different than the one I heard earlier. I try

to create a catalogue in my mind of what each sound and movement means.
This one is almost as loud as the attack growl she had made before, but has
a richer tone. It's almost a sort of moan.

Cyn rubs her body against mine, and her long dark fur is soft and warm

against my bare skin. She exposes her sharp, glistening teeth and I stare at
them, terror and excitement rushing through me. I follow her line of vision
to my neck and bare it immediately. I'm afraid; I'm shaking, but something
deep within me needs desperately to submit fully to her.

She's at my neck in a flash, her sharp teeth plunging deeply into my

throat. She shifts her weight slightly off of my chest. I gulp air hungrily, then
begin yowling as blood trickles down my breast and onto the rug. Cyn

Like An Animal 59

moves her tremendous paw over my mouth, muffling my sounds, and
releases her grip on my neck. I feel her long teeth sliding out of my flesh.
I'm lost in the exquisite pain, and when her head rises, I gaze with surprise
at my blood on her muzzle. I try automatically to lift my hand to the wound,
but find that my arm is pinned beneath her weight. She watches as I groan
and mewl against her paw, being as quiet as I can manage, my blood spread-
ing slowly over the white rug.

Cyn removes her paw from my mouth and steps off of me, looking

slightly startled but defensive. I try to sit up. I want to run my hands over her
fur and nuzzle against her, but I'm too weak to raise my arms. I want to tell
her not to worry, that I will heal, but all that comes from my lips are breathy
moans and soft whimpers.

She approaches me, not as she had before with a growl and a lunge, but

with her head tilted in concern and her expression sympathetic. She circles
my body, drawing the full moon's shape around me, and sniffing me up and
down as if measuring my medical status. I lay very still, letting my body heal.
My eyes are locked on Cyn, who sniffs her way back to the bleeding wound
on the left side of my neck. She settles beside me, and soon I feel her tongue
running delicately over my bleeding throat. I try again to touch her shining
black fur. I can't make it, but my arm lifts a little; I'm getting better.

As Cyn holds her tongue to the wound, I can feel power flowing from

its surface. It is the goddess moon's energy, and it rushes into me, healing
me in harmony with the power of my own body. Soon enough the blood
ceases to flow.

She licks the rest of the blood clean, beginning with my collar bone. At

her long licks, I find the strength to moan and raise my arm to rest on Cyn's
side. I am flooded with relief to be touching her fur at last. When she has
thoroughly licked my left collar bone and shoulder, she walks around my
head to do the same to my right side.

Cyn moves down between my breasts and over each of them. I moan

desperately when her rough tongue runs over my nipples again and again.
My strength returning, I manage to raise my arms and wrap them around
her. I arch my back, lifting my hips in the air toward her body. I want her to
climb back on top of me; I want to be beneath her heavy weight, hidden in
her endless fur.

Instead, she slowly licks my body, her tongue carefully smoothing every

inch of my skin. When she reaches the bottom curve of my stomach, Cyn

Like An Animal 60

moves to the left and licks her way over the curve of my hip, then down to
my outer thigh. I part my legs, and when she reaches my inner thigh at last,
I finally find my voice.

"Cyn, Cyn, yes, my sweet Cyn," I moan as I bend my knees, parting my

legs further. I propel my hips toward her, aching for her tongue against my
clitoris. I'm already covered in the slickness of my desire. She moves down
my leg and time seems to slow as my lust rises with every long, firm lick.
After what feels like an eternity, her tongue reaches my foot. She runs her
tongue along the arch and I make a sound that's part-giggle and part-frus-
trated moan.

She shifts to my other foot and does the same before licking a path up

to my inner thigh. I moan continually, straining to press my pulsing clitoris
against whatever part of Cyn I can reach. My head is swimming with long-
ing. I want to feel her wet, rough tongue against me; I want to grind hard
against it until the ecstasy becomes too much, swallowing me into that
moment of hot blinding bliss.

"Please," I beg, "Cyn, please lick me. I need you." I feel as though I might

cry from the strength of my unsated craving.

Her midnight eyes lock with mine and she studies me for what feels like

a long time before bending her head and bringing her muzzle close to my
pussy.

"Oh, gods, Cyn, yes," I whisper, feeling close to tears. I need so badly to

release the intensity flooding my body, mind, and heart. She sniffs at my
pussy, and the scent of my desire pulls a low sound from her throat. I'm
frozen in eager readiness, hoping I won't cum too soon. I want it to last, but
my orgasm has been building since Cyn first reached my nipples.

My breath catches and my eyes fall closed when I finally feel her tongue

lick firmly over the patch of soft brown hair between my legs. I move my
hips in small circles, grinding against her wide tongue. I reach down and
bury my fingers in the thick warm fur to either side of Cyn's ears. She lingers
over my mons, dragging her tongue over the lust dampened curls time and
again. I dreamily ponder the fur between my thighs, thrilled to realize that
the most sacred of our parts are the same, protected and feral.

She runs her tongue lightly up my slit and clitoris. I cry out and part my

legs further, groaning at the long awaited contact. The next lap is slightly
more firm, and I feel the rough buds of Cyn's tongue against my clitoris,
sending waves of ecstasy through my entire being. She runs her tongue over

Like An Animal 61

my pussy again and again, the firmness of her licks increasing slightly each
time. Her tongue is vast and her licks are long. My slit, clitoris, and mons are
covered completely with each stroke. In the spaces between each warm lick,
my pussy feels cold and bared. I whimper and thrust my hips, anticipating
the ecstasy of each lick while simultaneously fearing that her tongue will
abandon me, leaving me desperate and lonely.

The laps do not stop. With each new stroke of Cyn's tongue, I am over-

whelmed with solace and gratitude. I moan loudly, trying not to come,
straining not to end this bliss that has come to feel deeply sacred. I feel her
immense strength and power pressing its way into my body through her
tongue; my lover is a daughter of the goddess moon, and the divinity of the
moon's fullness flows from her into me, flooding my insides with dark,
divine light. I can feel the uninhibited savageness that surges inside her, the
fierce and beautiful simplicity of her animal instincts, and it pushes my
desire to heavenly heights. In my mind, I see myself as a wolf too, running
beneath the moon with Cyn by my side.

I buck wildly against her, making a continual low moan as I hold my

orgasm inside with painful determination. Soon I feel as though I'll scream
if I wait any longer, causing Kim and Jeremy to assume that Cyn is killing
me, and burst in on our love-making. I'm pleased to have found an excuse
to give in, and I slide my fingers further into Cyn's fur as I rock my hips
against her with increasing speed. Cyn sniffs at me between licks, inhaling
the scent of my wetness, which spills from my eager pussy and dampens my
inner thighs.

The dark, divine light that fills me grows too great, and it begins to over-

flow. I try desperately to savor every moment of anticipation. I feel as though
I am one with Cyn, one with the moon, and one with the world. I envision
my body floating closer and closer to the goddess moon, full in all her glory.

When I see myself reach the moon, I let my orgasm take me at last. I see

myself inside the moon now, with Cyn beside me. Encompassed by its pure
full light, we cling to one another in my mind, our forms shifting from wolf
to human and back again, our union a sacred tribute to the goddess moon.
At the height of my orgasm, I imagine us howling in harmony as we become
one with the moon, one with each other. Our bodies shed, our hearts and
minds blissful to spend eternity shining moonlight onto the earth below.

When it's over, my arms drop to my sides, and my head turns to rest

against the bloody rug. I lay still, feeling the dark light I released swirling all

Like An Animal 62

around us. Its divinity charges the room with power. My eyes flutter open
and I find Cyn staring into my face, her pitch-black eyes round like the
moon. Meeting her gaze, I see with perfect clarity that I am in love with her,
and I'm happy.

I roll over towards Cyn, cuddle close to her warm body, and bury my face

in the fur that has so quickly come to feel safe and familiar. We lay in silence
for a time. Surrounded by the scent of my mate, I feel perfectly at home.

Eventually, my mind comes back into focus, the heady afterglow of my

orgasm finally settling. I run my hands over Cyn's fur, petting her side and
belly. I want to pleasure her, but I'm not sure how to go about it.

Sensing my desire, she rises and begins to climb on top of me. I moan

softly, happy to be returning to that secure haven beneath her weight. Cyn
shifts her body and places one of her hind legs between my knees. She
drapes her huge, heavy paws gently onto my chest, waiting a moment before
leaning her massive weight fully against me. I breathe in sharply and wrap
my arms around as much of her as I can reach. I am crushed, lost in my
love's fur. A native to this place would be flattened to death beneath Cyn's
heaviness. Bodies are so fragile here, in this vivid world where the threat of
death looms constantly. I am blessed to be able to survive this divine night
with my sweet wolf.

She lowers her hips, pressing closer to my leg. I bend my knee, raising it

to meet the space beneath her hindquarters. Cyn growls and begins to thrust
hard and fast against my upper calf. I moan and press it to her body, feeling
the heat that comes in waves from her flesh. I run my hands over her fur as
she slams violently against me, growling deeply with increasing volume and
digging her sharp claws into my skin. Soon her body goes rigid and she
freezes in a leaning position against me. Her growl is startlingly ferocious,
and I try to memorize the precise richness of its tone.

When it has passed, Cyn rolls off of me and snuggles against my side. I

cling to her and kiss her fur, then lean back and meet her gaze. I try to mem-
orize her wolf eyes; it will be a month before I can see them again. I want
to remember everything.

Cyn brings her muzzle close and licks my cheek.

****

Hours later, I awake to Jeremy's frightened voice calling my name as he

shakes me by the shoulders. My eyes open and I look around for Cyn, find-
ing her in the corner of the room, joyously devouring a large chunk of raw

Like An Animal 63

meat. Kim is standing a distance away, pointing what I gather is a tranquil-
izer gun at Cyn.

"Doree, are you okay?" Kim and Jeremy are saying over and over, and it

takes me a moment to remember that they had been expecting to find me
dead.

I smile and yawn. "I'm fine, I was only sleeping." They look down my

blood-stained body to the blood-soaked rug beneath me and stumble back,
frightened by my apparent immortality. I get up off the floor and sit down
on Cyn's bed. I have to tell Kim and Jeremy the truth. There's no way to
explain this away, and maybe it's just as well; I've grown so tired of hiding
all the time.

"Listen," I begin, "I'm really sorry you guys had this sprung on you. I

would have explained earlier, but there wasn't time."

Kim and Jeremy blink at me in unison. "Explain what?" Jeremy asks. He

raises an eyebrow. "Hey, are you a vampire?" he asks, seeming excited by the
idea.

I smile. "No, but good guess." Jeremy smiles back but Kim doesn't look

amused. I go on, trying not to let Kim's stern expression phase me. I gather
my nerve and the words propel from my lips at lightning speed; "The truth
is that I'm from another dimension. It's common for us to vacation in other
universes, and you can get a long term passport like I have if you qualify. It
was fairly easy for me to get since I'm going to graduate school here. And
I'm not immortal or anything, bodies are just less breakable where I come
from."

Kim is pale. She leans back against the wall, dropping her arms to her

side. "What?" is all she manages to say.

Jeremy smiles at her. "Come on, luv, we're here tonight to make sure your

college roommate, the werewolf, doesn't get out of her room and eat some-
one, and you're thrown by an inter-dimensional tourist?"

"Hey," I protest, "I'm not a tourist."
He looks at me and raises his left eyebrow.
I roll my eyes. "Fine, okay, I guess the word could apply."

While Jeremy is laughing at this, Cyn finishes her meat, and begins

growling viciously at Kim. Kim steps back a few paces and raises the tran-
quilizer gun again. "Jeremy, that's our cue," she says, anxiety evident in her
tone.

Jeremy nods, smiles at me, and follows Kim out of the bedroom. When

Like An Animal 64

the door closes behind them, Cyn jumps up on the bed beside me and nuz-
zles my cheek. We cuddle together, settling our bodies against each other to
the sounds of locks fastening and keys turning. We're secure again, trapped
alone together in our holy haven. A beam of moon light slipping through
the part in the curtains shines across our bodies as we drift to sleep. My last
waking thought is that our rest tonight shall be like no other, for we have
bared our deepest secrets at last, safe beneath mother moon.

It's well known that the gentry have a taste for wolves.
You can find them in the respectable estates out of town amidst the Pine

Hills. That's where the Moonlight Dance is held: the time-honoured dance,
the chase between wolf and human. The wolves themselves have hosted it
since time out of mind and it's become a cherished tradition of delights.The
wolves breed themselves for viciousness and cunning, for implacable beau-
ty and strength of muscle and bone. It serves them well in their new accord
with humans, for you see, it's their beauty that beguiles the gentry.

Think of it. That wildness. Those sleek shapes running through the dark.

And in the light, that fur, soft and thick, shading from white to pure gold
and silver, or covering the wolf in black and russet; those silver eyes and
those sharp teeth, set in that soft velvet muzzle. And all of it is honed by a
mind that's both human and wolf, and has a clever mind for bloody games.

The gentry can't resist. All the more so, for the fact that in this strange

country, they all have subliminal nursery memories of riding their dogs-for-
nannas as the great beasts lay quiescent by the fireplace.There was just some-
thing about that fur against your skin, riding that obedient furred back
between your thighs. And so when the gentry come of age, all sleek and
hungry-eyed, full of dire thoughts, their attentions are inadvertently direct-
ed to the wolves of the mountains.Their parents indulge them: they remem-
ber what it's like to be so young, and besides, they indulge in the sport every
now and then. The older gentry like to see young people enjoying them-
selves, and in so fine a tradition as the Moonlight Dance.

There's a party of them now, riding up the Pine Hills, tricked out in trav-

elling clothes of wool and velvet. The finest, gayest young men and women
you ever saw, and they have good reason for it. They're riding up to Lupine
House, the oldest and most distinguished of the wolves' estates and they are

Lupine House

A.N. Cortez

Like An Animal 66

speculating over this evening's delights. They boast of their own acts of dar-
ing, what they will do to their lupine favourites when they catch them and
what they would like their darlings to do, if they will be the ones to be
caught instead.

Among them is an unusually solemn young gentleman. He's a lovely

young fellow, grey eyes and black hair, and surely there is no need for him
to be so glum. But there he is, gazing sadly at the play of light and shadow
in the woods as they drive past and whatever for?

His fellows disapprove of his reticence.
"There's no need to be so prude, my dear," says a flighty young woman

who rides in the same carriage with him. Goldilocks, let's call her, for she's
got curling blonde hair and bright blue eyes and has the appropriate appetite
for love. His loyal friend Carrot-Top comes to his rescue: an elegant gangly
gentleman with red hair.

"Prude, nothing, old George is lovesick."
Our Young Gentleman smiles and fibs a fight with Carrot-Top, to the rol-

licking delight of the young ladies and the consternation of the horses and
drivers. They shout at the young men from the carriage-tops: stop, stop you
young fools, or you'll rock the carriage and murder us all. Poor Young
Gentleman and Carrot-Top, being scolded like boys about to get a caning.

But Our Young Gentleman is indeed lovesick. His last Moonlight's Dance

was his first, and of course, it found him knocked off his mount and at the
tender mercy of a wolf.

It was his first encounter, and the Young Gentleman was unprepared. He

was not the type to fall in love like that, but the wolf is beauty and wildness
incarnate and it should have been no surprise. His wolf was star-lit night, its
thickening winter fur tipped with white and silver and its grip on the Young
Gentleman was strong.

They looked at each other, grey into green, boy's eyes into the haunting

vision of the wolf. Then the wolf grinned, to show the Young Gentleman its
immaculate white teeth.

The better to play with you my dear.
The wolf was young, but it was starving and it knew exactly what to do.

It immediately relieved the Young Gentleman of his clothing and gobbled
him up, from tip to toe until the latter was all-a-trembling between the
wolf's legs. Just an aperitif.

Like An Animal 67

What a lovely little thing you are, said the wolf.
It helped itself to the Young Gentleman's bag of tricks, playthings and

instruments for the Moonlight Dance - rope and whips and things of phal-
lic shape. It knotted him up with the oakum rope; splayed him whimpering
and eagle-spread between two trees. Licked the Young Gentleman's nether
regions so that the little head flushed crimson; wolf teeth and tongue leav-
ing it to bob helplessly as the Young Gentleman pleaded and pumped his
hips into the wolf's mouth, onto its slathering tongue and its teeth. The wolf
growled and nipped at the tender skin of his thigh.

Darling, anyone would think you were a pup at its dam's teat.
The Young Gentleman moaned softly, ducking his face scarlet with want

and shame. The wolf relented and lifted itself upwards to lick his face.

See if you can manage a wolf's silence, my darling, said the wolf. Another nip at

the skin, and whimper from the Young Gentleman. For five breathes.

Then maybe, maybe if you make me happy, I'll let you go.
Now that game, as the wolf and Young Gentleman knew, was delightful-

ly unfair.

They played a wailing game of thorns and nettles, wolf tongue and teeth

every now and then giving the Young Gentleman the most tender of kisses.
Alas, the Young Gentleman did not manage it, could not manage it. Despite
his best efforts and his resolve, he hung moaning and whimpering with each
bite of the thorn and the nettle, the vicious ache of his own desire, at the
mercy of the wolf.

So the Young Gentleman lay in a torment until near day break, when the

wolf finally clapped its jaws on his sex, its teeth nicking the foreskin. The
Young Gentleman moaned out his little death, then hung limp and shud-
dering.

What a soft thing you are, darling, the wolf said, nipping at the oakum, freeing

the trembling Young Gentleman from the intricately knotted rope. It caught
the Young Gentleman on its back as the rope that held his arms gave way,
quicker than any real wolf had the right to be. The wolf laid its human lover
down into the earth, licked gently at his face, lapping at the tear-streaked
cheek and nose. And then, heartlessly, it stood up and turned to leave the
Young Gentleman there.

The Young Gentleman begged. He wanted to lie with the wolf. He want-

ed the wolf to kiss him with its human mouth, when its human change
came. He would do anything, anything, only please lie with me my darling, please.

Like An Animal 68

But the wolf shook its head. It trotted over and whispered a challenge in

the Young Gentleman's ear.

Catch me at next Moonlight Dance, my dear, the wolf whispered. Catch me at next

moonrise, and you'll have your heart's desire.

Oh yes, you'll see me, for if you tie me up, tie me down, there'll be nowhere for me to go.
And with that, the wolf vanished.
The Young Gentleman returned to the little villa, dressed and dishevelled,

the very picture of a young man who had survived his first Moonlight
Dance. The other participants were there already, and were being tended to
by their lupine hosts, already in their human form and decently dressed in
their very proper waistcoats and muslin gowns. None of the lupine inhabi-
tants gave him so much as a hint or a sign that they could be his darling, and
woe the Young Gentleman, who realized he didn't even know the sex of his
lupine love.

He could have asked, of course. He had every opportunity to beg one of

their gracious hosts for a word, bribe the younger ones with a gift of per-
fume or a jewel for a hint: he was wealthy enough. But he was too well-bred
and too gentlemanly to go against his word, and besides, his mind was full
of the game and how to go about it.

So you see, the Young Gentleman is now a little preoccupied.
In the carriage that's driving him and his friends up to Lupine House

where his love hails from, the Young Gentleman rubs the gloved palm of his
hand. There's a charm hidden in his glove: wolf-thatch and wildrose, witch-
magic to help him find his love in the dark. He's thinking of his plans: of
lying between the tender paws of the wolf, between his legs, of the game he
wants to play, the toys he's brought in his little bag of tricks and he's all a-
shiver.

It's late afternoon when the carriage party arrives at Lupine House, sever-

al hours to moonrise. Enough time for the party to rest, refresh themselves
and dream of tonight's delights, pick their favourite hunting suit or gown
for the occasion and dress themselves accordingly. They're greeted by the
lupine occupants of the house - still in human form, for it is daylight still.

They're the most solemn young men and women you ever saw. Gentle

and courtly, not even a hungry leer in their smiles as they escort their guests
up to their rooms, as they kiss their guest's hands and leave them to them-
selves to freshen up for tonight. They're not stingy with their hospitality
either: it's double beds and canopies for the young guests, a woodland view

Like An Animal 69

or the lake. Plates of sweetmeats and fruit and a jug of almond water sit on
the breakfast tables.

"So Old George," said Carrot-Top, in brazen view of their honoured hosts

as they bow to take their leave. "What are your plans for tonight?"

The Young Gentleman is scandalized. "Rick, old sport, a gentleman

doesn't tell."

Carrot-Top laughs, and one of their honoured hosts - an Apollo of a

young man with green eyes and chestnut hair - gives the Young Gentleman
a ghost of a smile. So quick and fleeting, it might not be there at all.

Is that his wolf? Could it be?
The Young Gentleman doesn't dare ask. He lets them go with barely a sigh

and Carrot-Top for commiserating company. But Carrot-Top pats his shoul-
der.

"George old man, they all knew already."
Well of course, they would have to have known, his love's clan. It would

have told them, running up the steps of the villa in its human form, telling
them disdainfully or lovingly, of the callow boy it had caught by moonlight.
But it's in the Young Gentleman's nature to play the gentleman with a lover's
family, and it galls him for them to think he was breaking their agreement.
He barely restrains himself from plucking at the roses in the vase on the
dresser. He's too old to play It loves me, it loves me not, and fond as he is of Carrot-
Top, he'd be damned if he did it in front of another living soul.

There's a party downstairs and our young guests are obliged to descend

for dinner, mill about and meet other young folk there for the party.
Goldilocks and their other female friends, the good old boys of their col-
leges, all smiling flush and pretty in their hunting clothes.

The occupants of the house are among them, offering more of their gen-

erous hospitality. They offer aphrodisiacs on silver platters: oysters and
onion, turtle eggs and octupi, the engorged and stuffed organs of hapless
cattle and songbirds. For sweets, there are chocolates, strawberries and
bananas in all their suggestive glory, nestled amidst rare and exotic fruit. All
the while, serving these delights to young men and women, the occupants
of Lupine House are grinning their wolf's grins.

There are a hundred and one reasons why we want you all on tither-

hooks tonight, oh yes my dears, their smiles say. And the young gentlemen
and ladies take the little titbits and laugh, and are set all a-shiver.

All but for the Young Gentleman. He's too busy speculating which of

Like An Animal 70

these lupine occupants is his darling, but none of them even spare him a
look. He fingers the charm hidden in the palm of his glove to help him find
his true love in the dark but alas, the room is too well-lit and he curses him-
self for bad wording. He won't find his heart's desire until the hunt under
the moonlight and he's so full of bloody-minded desire. The things he and
his love will do. The things he will do, to his love in the moonlight.

The lupine occupants seem to sense The Young Gentleman's consterna-

tion. He can feel their soft amusement and their assessing glances, the
weight of the murmurs behind his back, and across the room, the chestnut-
haired Apollo and his sister, chatting with one of their green-eyed kinsmen
with raven hair. Perhaps they're talking about him now, and the incident in
the room he and Carrot-Top share. So pretty, and such a gentleman too and
the three of them give him a sideways glance, so quick and flitting it might
as well have been a trick of the light.

Wolves do that, you understand.

"May I help you Milord?" asks a young woman with straw-blonde hair.

She too, could be his darling without him knowing it. Her eyebrow is arched
in a teasing line, and the Young Gentleman shakes his head, ruefully.

"Not until Moonrise, Milady."
Milady laughs and slinks away to join Apollo and his band across the

room, back to her friends and family to laugh at his expense. Not cruelly, but
out of commiseration. Poor thing, and such a pretty one.

Come sunset, and almost moonrise, there's a soft smattering of applause

and Our Young Gentleman looks up from his lap to find the patriarch of the
house. He has come to signal his kinsmen to retire for the dance and just like
that, the occupants of the house rise and glide towards the patriarch, disap-
pearing into the doors behind him. The patriarch's hair is granite silver with
age, and it is clear that he has seen many Moonlight Dances. He addresses the
gentlemen-and-women and offers them a blessing.

"May you have your way with your heart's desire," he says, and the young

gentlemen and gentle ladies cheer.

They crowd out of the lobby into the courtyard where their mounts are

waiting. Stag-deer born and bred on the hills, they're fitted out with red tack
and bells: the better for the wolves to hear them. Moonshine rope hangs on
the saddles, the better for the hunters to catch their heart's desires.

There are no hounds with them, not for this hunt. The chase and the

Like An Animal 71

reward are their own.

The wolves gather at the tip of the garden, there to join in the moonlight

dance. At the sight of them, the mood turns amorous, and the Young
Gentleman's heart skips a beat. For among them is a black star-lit wolf, long
furred and slender, tipped with snow and silver. It still has its winter ruff,
and as it turns its lovely green eyes at the Young Gentleman, there is a sub-
liminal communiqué.

The Young Gentleman's heads sing - yes, both of them.
Catch me, said the wolf.
Yes. Oh yes.
A horn sounds and the chase, the Moonlight Dance begins.
The wolves melt away like mist. The gentleman and ladies set up the cry

and whip their mounts, bounding into the forest without so much as a by-
your-leave, hunting after their trails.

The Young Gentleman pursues the chase. He and his mount run through

shadow and ford, thicket and glen, and with nothing but his heart's desire
to guide him. He fingers the herb and wolf-fur in his glove. Take me to my
heart's desire.

There.
The star-lit wolf stands a-grinning in the darkness. Its eyes are shining at

the Young Gentleman, and its jaws are stretched in a wolf's grin. Catch me,
it seems to say, then turns and runs.

The Young Gentleman chases.
This is the Moonlight Dance.
The wolf twists and feints, gliding through the trees like a shadow with

the Young Gentleman matching its every movement. It's a duet, a waltz, and
a tango, with its intimate ferocity. Their blood is rising, and it sings.

They're at a certain angle now.The Young Gentleman loops his moonshine

noose around the shoulders of his wolf. It skids to a halt, whining. The rope
extends, and winds itself into shape: a muzzle around the head, a binding
around the legs so that the wolf tips over on its side, helpless.

The Young Gentleman gently brings his deer to a halt, surveying his dar-

ling.

Leash still in hand, the Young Gentleman dismounts. He takes his bag of

toys, which the wolf used on him in their last courtship, and walks over to
the wolf, heart beating fast.

There is something about wildness, lying piquant on the earth just for

Like An Animal 72

him and done up so in knots.

The Young Gentleman swallows. He mustn't let his little brain run away

with him.

He kneels beside the wolf, pulls its considerable weight on his lap. The

wolf does not struggle at all, but leans out to expose its throat and the Young
Gentleman can't help stroking the neck.

You have caught me, the wolf seemed to say, and now what?
How the blood beats fast.
The Young Gentleman bends down to kiss the wolf's muzzled mouth, bit-

ing none too gently at the black velvet beneath the wolf's teeth. The wolf
whines in pleasure and the Young Gentleman laughs.

The Young Gentleman undoes his bag: ropes, strings of all shapes and

sizes, certain herbs and ointments, playthings of phallic shape. He lets the
wolf sniff at them, lets it wonder what the Young Gentleman plans to do.

"See how clever I am with them, darling," says the Young Gentleman into

its ear.

The wolf glances at him, its eyes full of cheek. Never mind the talk, says the

wolf, get on with it.

The Young Gentleman turns the wolf on its back, bound paws in the air.

The better to have my way with you, my dear. The Young Gentleman stakes
the bound paws to the ground, stretching the wolf out so it looks like noth-
ing more than a sacrificial victim. Its sex peeks out from its fur, flushing a
healthy crimson. So his darling is no she-wolf after all.

Mouth dry, his own head (both heads) aflame with want, the Young

Gentleman loops the balls with string and ties the scrotum criss-cross, all the
way from base to tip. The wolf whines, jerks his hips off the earth.

The Young Gentleman brings out the crowning glory, the little pin.

They're used to punish a male adulterer's infidelities, and the wolf whines
when he sees it.The Young Gentleman slips the pin into the wolf's little head.

The wolf whines a little, wriggling. There will be no little deaths while

that's in there, no matter how much the wolf might want them.

"The terms of your release?" The Young Gentleman asks. "Well," he paus-

es, because he hasn't thought that far and the wolves are famed for their
endurance. With a wry grin pronouncing sentence, he says: "I suppose you'll
just have to endure until I say-so."

The Young Gentleman digs his hands into the wolf's chest, rubbing just

there, tugging roughly at the fur. The wolf kicks, his hindquarters moving

Like An Animal 73

back and forth, like the paws of a little toy dog begging for treats. His sex is
reddening and the Young Gentleman taps it with the flexible leather end of
his riding crop. The wolf howls, snarls behind the muzzle. His lips curl up
to show the tip of his teeth.

"Naughty thing," says the Young Gentleman, and none-too gently, slaps

the tender skin again. The wolf howls.

The Young Gentleman rubs his hand against the tender skin, to tease and

soothe. The wolf whimpers a little, his eyes half-shut before they snap wide
open, bulging. The Young Gentleman has picked up his riding crop and is
once again using it to good effect.

"You have to learn to be good, my dear," the Young Gentleman says.

"You're the most sullen dog I've ever had to train." He snaps at the still-sting-
ing sex, sends the wolf whimpering and tugging against the ropes.

It goes on like that: the merciless tapping, teasing, gloved hand rubbing

against the sore and tender skin so that the wolf is near mad with want.You
wouldn't believe the colour of his sex now, how red it runs when the Young
Gentleman finally stops. How the wolf would like to have his little death
now, but all he does is roll his belly at his human paramour, for begging. I
submit, I submit, he says, the only way he can in this form. The wolf's
hindquarters are pumping slightly, and his meaning is unmistakable.

The Young Gentleman laughs and bends down to kiss the wolf, tugs at the

fur on its chest so that he whimpers.

"No, love, not like this."
And amidst the wolf's ache and want and snarling desire is a quizzical

expression.

The Young Gentleman doesn't keep the wolf waiting long. Out comes a

leather sheath, and out the sheath comes a knife of silver.

"Now," says the Young Gentleman roughly.
The Young Gentleman brings the knife to the wolf's still-furred throat.The

wolf watches the blade out of the corner of his eyes, softly whining.

The Young Gentleman slips the knife under the skin, exposing the pale

throat, slides the knife down from neck to belly, to groin. He roughly pulls
off the muzzled wolf's head, to reveal the most beautiful lupine young man.

There, underneath the skin of the wolf is pale skin, roseate nipples, and

the red, bulging sex of a young man in heat. The Young Gentleman hitches
his breath.

He might have been Romulus or Remus. He might have been any of the

Like An Animal 74

classical portraits and statues that populated their schoolroom, and not the
savage the priest denounces wolves to be, though the young man's face bears
the unmistakable stamp of the wolf, its slender grace and wildness. Pale mar-
ble skin, green eyes and black hair, a mouth that the Young Gentleman kiss-
es roughly and then stuffs with a bit, before the wolf has a chance to say a
word. His darling, his-and he now has a face.

No, the Young Gentleman never would have guessed, but then that was

the point.

"Caught you," the Young Gentleman whispers roughly. He bends down

to kiss his young man's stubbled cheek. The young man laughs a little, rue-
ful and unmistakably pleased and the Young Gentleman dips his hand down
to play a little. The young man moans a little, begging. Darling, darling,
please, please let me, for the pin is still in there, and there's no getting it
loose.

The Young Gentleman is sweating, coat and blouse clinging to his skin.

You wouldn't have thought he would be so strong, or so bloody-minded
with his passion. The Young Gentleman kisses his young man's mouth, bites
at his nipples, laps at the bulging sex that can't, and leaves the young man
gasping and begging beneath the gag.

Tenderly, he slips one hand beneath the young man's hips like a baby, a

child, crooning all the while. The other teases at the other opening, gently
slipping in one, two, three fingers until he's rocking his darling with his
entire hand. Romulus groans, biting into the bit. It must burn to have that
much of someone inside: as the Young Gentleman well knows. He rocks his
young man gently, in and out, digging in deeper and deeper, about as far as
he can go and Romulus can't help but moan out the burning.

"I might have to tap you again darling, if you can't stop making that

noise," the Young Gentleman said hoarsely, for his own little head feels as if
it's in knots and oh, how he wants his green-eyed wolf. The wolf moans
before he can stop himself and the Young Gentleman picks up the crop and
lands yet another a stinging smack against the head to send the young man
a-wailing.The Young Gentleman soothes and shushes: it's back to rocking the
wolf, back and forth, back and forth, the wolf whimpering and gibbering,
begging beneath the gag, and oh, the head's so crimson now. Who would
have thought the sex could go that red?

The Young Gentleman grasps his lover's aching sex: slips out the little pin,

to Romulus' sobbing relief and pumps, and dear me, you'd never heard such

Like An Animal 75

a howl as the wolf spills his out desire onto his belly, onto the rocking hand
of the Young Gentleman. His bare chest shivers and quakes as he rides out
his desire and goes limp. The little death he's been begging for.

Carefully, the Young Gentleman cuts the wolf limbs from their bindings,

then tenderly, frees the young man's limbs from their wolf skins. Romulus
lies there, limp and sated, chest heaving as off comes the feet, like boots, the
front paws like gloves, until what lies before the Young Gentleman is truly
human.

Now that the Moonlight Dance is over, the Young Gentleman is anxious

and tender. He unbuttons his woollen riding coat, throws it over the wolf.
He tucks the wolf in like a child, even though it leaves the Young Gentleman
himself shivering. Gently, he lays himself down across his love's chest, gen-
tly stroking his human cheek.

But Romulus, the greedy thing, the wolf, clutches the Young Gentleman's

hair and pulls him down for a kiss.

Blood mixed with water swirls on the shower floor. I watch the red

streaks and soap bubbles meander down the drain with a detached fascina-
tion. Tonight was a good night. I replay the scene: the chase, his terror, my
pounce, his look of disbelief, the scream (oh yes, the scream) as I sink my
cuspids into his neck.

I shampoo a second time, then a third. Having had my fill, the werewolf

in me is tamed. I want to feel human again. Be human. The animal cravings
are sated for the time being, even though the full moon calls. The blood and
meat are satisfying, but that contentment is temporary. It will pass by tomor-
row night when I shall be compelled to hunt again.

I will regret it in the morning. Raw human flesh does not sit well with

the human part of me. But for now, as I am still riding this full-moon high.
And, there's nothing else like it. Had I been left unsatisfied, I'd still be out
prowling the streets for another hapless indigent.

I look at my suit, a Hugo Boss, lying on the floor. Red with blood. Damn,

I've got to lock away my good suits on full moon nights. With all the suits I
go through, I must be keeping five tailors in business. Last month, I ruined
a perfectly good Dolce and Gabbana I'd only worn once.

Three days later, I find myself on Vaci Utca, the popular shopping street

in Budapest: cobblestoned, pedestrian traffic only.Very upscale. I'm shopping
for suits. What else is new?

I bump into her as I'm coming out of one shop, heading for another. She

drops her briefcase. Papers spill out. We bang heads as we bend down for
them at the same time.

"Elnezest," I tell her, that's "excuse me," in the local language. One should

always know a few basics when living in a foreign land, "please, thank you,
which way to, how much is that," and of course "hello" and "good bye".

American Werewolf in Budapest

Joe Nobel

Like An Animal 77

Anyway, I say "shit" in perfectly good English as I run after a page the

wind picked up. When I return with it, I can't think of a single Hungarian
word to say to her. I make a sad but brave attempt at using those few words
I do know pasted together with backwards grammar. It's been only three
days since the full moon passed; that means I still have plenty of that wolfish
charisma left in me. Had this happened on a new-moon day, I'd have been a
very different and much shyer guy.

She smiles at me as I say all the wrong words. "It's all right.You can apol-

ogize to me in English," she says. "You are American, no?"

Ah, yes, she's giving me a green light. I offer to apologize over lunch. She

tells me she's on her way to a meeting. I persist, suggesting a coffee place
instead. At least she can sit down in a cafe and sort her papers. She relents. I
take her to the Gerbeaud in Vorosmarty Square.

"I recommend the Black Forrest Cake," I say as I look over the top of my

menu.

"My favorite, also," she says, looking back at me from above hers. Our

eyes meet.

I want to say something about her eyes, but she beats me to the line.
"You are a very intense man," she says. Then, "Are you visiting Budapest

for long?"

"I live here," I tell her.
"How do you like my country?"
"You're very romantic." I tell her.Then when she raises her eyebrow, I say,

"Your country, I mean. It's very romantic. Centuries of history just come out
at you through the architecture. I love it here."

"That's what all you foreigners say, before you make your killing buying

up real estate." She winks.

"Is that what you see? A killer?"
"You seem to be a dangerous man to women."
"You seem to like dangerous men." I take both her hands into mine over

the table and hold them. "I bet you're melting inside." She tries to pull free,
but when she realizes I won't let go of her she stops struggling. Then, the
tension leaves her arms as she surrenders. She just looks into my eyes with-
out blinking. She betrays no emotion, but I know she's falling apart. Finally,
I release her hands. "It would be a tragedy to end our relationship here."

She writes her number on a napkin for me.
After we finish, I kiss her goodbye. She runs off to her meeting, now very

Like An Animal 78

late. I watch her hurry across the cobblestone square and disappear into the
crowd. I stay in the Gerbeaud and order a cognac. I celebrate by buying two
suits on the way home.

I give her a call the next day.

****

"Nice view," she says as looks out my picture window upon the Budapest

cityscape. My place is nicely situated on the top of the Buda hills.

"I never get tired of it," I tell her.
She is naked. We've just made love for the first time. I ask her what she

wants to drink as I look through my bar. Oh, by the way, her name is
Gabriella. And she gets off on being handcuffed to the bed. Which is quite
all right with me, since I always have a pair lying around.

"I can mix you a Manhattan," I say. I'm in the mood for a Manhattan

tonight.

She tells me she doesn't drink, but I should go ahead. I pour her a glass

of pear nectar on the rocks. On second thought, I make one for myself, too.
She's really not my type. I prefer small, tight-bodied blonde girls with little
tits and well-defined nipples that I can torment to no end. Gabriella is the
opposite: almost as tall as I am, full-figured, with large tender breasts. She
has black hair, which she wears just below the ears. Her green eyes look back
at me. I'm in love.

Okay, let's not say love. I'm a little too world weary, well-traveled, savvy,

experienced, pick what word you want, to fall in love at first sight. But
damn, those butterflies are at it in my stomach. I wrap my arms around her
as she's mesmerized by my view of the Budapest lights from on-high.

I kiss her neck. I mentally go through what it would be like to tear into

her flesh, to taste her blood pumping into my mouth, to feel her surprise.
But then again, if I am in love-at-first-sight, I'll have some serious decisions
to make, come next full moon.

As the moon wanes and becomes new, I become quiet and introspective.

That's not to say I've turned wimpy or effeminate. We have some of the best
sex ever. I explore her boundaries, which go way beyond handcuffs. In fact,
she has no boundaries: she's willing to try anything.

As the moon starts to wax and creep closer to full in its never-ending

cycle, I become more audacious with what I do with her. On nights she
wants to beg out, I insist she come over. I persist until she complies. This
time I'm going to punish her for leading me on once she gets here.

Like An Animal 79

I'm waiting for her at the top of the stair well after I buzz her into the

building.

"Stop," I call down to her.
She smiles up at me from the lobby, two flights below.
"I want you to crawl up, on your hands and knees."
The smile fades and I see resentment, anger, embarrassment, then finally

intrigue cross her face.

"I'll dirty my dress," she says.
"Take it off," I tell her. "Hold it in your mouth."
"What about my handbag?"
"Do I have to spell out everything for you? Hang it around your neck."
She hesitates and pouts as she looks up at me. I don't take my eyes off her.

I can imagine the emotional storm raging in her head.

"Hurry now," I tell her.
I watch as she pulls the dress off over her head then get onto her hands

and knees. She slowly makes her way up the stairs in only her bra and
panties. I make a note to myself to take her out shopping for silk underwear
in black.

I'm sure she is agonizing over the thought of another tenant blundering

upon our scene. Yet, I know none of my neighbors are likely to be coming
or going at this hour.When Gabriella makes it to the top floor landing, I snap
a leashed collar around her neck. She looks up at me with protest in her eyes.
I lead her inside before she has a chance to protest.

I lead her all the way through my flat to the kitchen, making her follow

me on all fours. Then, I make her sit like a puppy while I pour some of her
favorite pear nectar into a bowl. I order her to lap it up. Gabriella looks like
she might burst into tears when I place it on the floor for her, but she com-
plies with my order. I gently wipe her face with a napkin when she's done,
then I kiss her and tell her she's been a good girl.

I lead her into the bedroom before she has time to think. I sit on the bed,

put her across my knee, and give her a solid spanking - I use the back of a
hair brush. The game, however, degenerates to an exploration of her sex
when I put aside that brush and start gently playing with her clit. I watch her
sigh and gasp; note what stokes elicit what reaction. I probe inside her with
my fingers and watch her shudder. She gasps when I touch her, when I work
her buttons the right way. I watch with fascination as I make her come. And
must admit I'm kinda cruel as I make her come over and over again until she

Like An Animal 80

can take no more. She begs me to stop once she's had her fill of orgasms and
can take no more. She pleads with me that she'll do anything for me, suck
my cock, anything. Only when she begs long enough do I give her what she
thinks is a break. I pull her up by her collar and throw her onto the bed. I
lie on top, spreading her legs apart and pin her arms above her head. She
tries to squirm free when she realizes I'm entering her. Despite being sated,
she still gasping in pleasure as she feels me inside. I'm sure it's dawned on
her by now that I'm only getting started for the night.

****

I obsess over moon's ceaseless trek across the sky every night after mak-

ing love to her. Each time I look, it gets fuller and brighter. Yes, it's calling.
Soon the call will be too powerful to resist. I'll have to stop seeing her for
about three days.

I call Gabriella to give her a made-up excuse that I can't see her for a

while. Instead I say, "Hey, don't make any plans for the weekend. I want you
to myself the whole time." No, that's not what I'm supposed to say. The urge
is too strong. The wolf in me wants her, too. Only, he wants to make a meal
of her.

Gabriella says, "Yes, I'd love to."
She should have said "No."
As the nights tick closer, I can't resist her. Her sweet smell, her quirky

habits, the way she smiles, those green eyes. Our lovemaking is heated and
furious. A sense of urgency builds with each night as the moon gets fuller
and fuller.

****
It's come to the first night of the full moon. She's on my bed, propped up

on an elbow, naked. She watches me brood. It bothers her. She'd said many
times before she'll do anything to make me happy. I just have to tell her what
I want. How can I tell her what I want when I'm not even sure of who I am?

I excuse myself as I run into the bathroom to shave and trim my nails.

Yeah, I'm turning.

When I come out, I see her in the light of the moon. Now she's lying on

her back, touching the headboards as if she were tied up.

"My, how freaky you look tonight," she tells me.
"All the better to sink my teeth into you, my dear," I say with a growl.
"How sexy," she says. "Come hither."
I pounce on the bed. Straddle her. Pin her arms above her head. I bend

Like An Animal 81

down to her. Breathing on her neck ever closer.

She kisses me.
No! That's not how it's supposed to happen! The victim usually screams

in terror at this point.

She somehow pulls free of my grip. My half-transformed wolf claws

aren't the greatest for pinning down a girl's arms unless I want to tear them
to shreds. And I can't bring myself to do that. She strokes my face.

"You've changed," she says. "It's the moon, isn't it?"
I roll off her and get up. I look over my shoulder at the full moon bear-

ing down through my picture window.

"Get dressed," I tell her with a distant look. "We're going out for the

night."

I in my Armani, she in her little dress, we walk out into the hot summer

night. I think I should have shaved one more time. She doesn't say anything.
She must know what I am by now, only a fool would be blind to this kind
of transformation. She isn't bothered by what I am. And she isn't scared.

"Are you going hunting, Mr. Wolf?" she asks as I drive with the top down

over the chain bridge from the Buda to the Pest side of the city.

"I tried resisting the urge at first," I say, as the lights on the suspension

chains rush by overhead. "But the call of the moon always wins. If I don't
fight it, go along instead, I can keep a small part of my rational self.This way
I take only those that are forgotten, those who have no one to grieve for
them - the dwellers of storm drains, for the most part. Think of it as culling
the herd of its weakest at the fringes. Just like in the wild."

She listens to my petty rationales, not arguing perhaps from some fear of

me. Well, she should be afraid - at least some. Then she speaks.

"Why not go back to your homeland and do your damage there?"
"Because, it's your country that did this to me." I look to my right shoul-

der, where the healed scratch lays under my suit jacket. She knows its there,
we'd explored our bodies enough in those intimate moments. Surviving the
wolf when those around me perished is not a war story I brag about to my
lovers.

She leans over and kisses me on the shoulder, where the wound is. Yes,

she understands. But, what's this? She now moves down along my body and
fits her head between my lap and the steering wheel. I hear my fly going
down. And feel her fingers reach in and fish out my cock. And feel her lips
descending on its head. I stray onto the yellow divider then swerve back

Like An Animal 82

quickly.

"Be careful up there," she says in a muffled voice.
I make my way off the Pest side of the bridge onto Roosevelt Square,

keeping one eye on the road as her lips circle the head of my cock. There's
not much traffic as I pass the Intercontinental Hotel and make my way into
the heart of Pest. A car pulls up beside me at the red light at the intersection
of Bajczy-Zsilinszky Ut. A kid driving an SUV gawks at Gabriella going down
in my lap; he's about to hoot or whistle - until he gets a look at me. He hits
the gas, screeching his tires, despite the red light.

I laugh.
When the light turns, I pull across the intersection, cruising slowly down

Andrassy Ut. I stroke Gabriella's head as she bobs up and down. I pull the
seat as far back as it goes, giving her head more room. I pull past the Opera
House with kids, pretty babies fresh from their discos, waiting on the curb
for their taxis home. Gabriella goes deep and long. She moans as if it was her
on the edge of coming. We cruise past the museum called The House of
Terror where Nazis then the state secret police interrogated their prisoners.
She changes pace again, now rocking up and down with fury. At the far end
of Andrassy Ut, I turn right onto Hero's Square. Gabriella teases the tip of my
cock with her tongue.

"Aren't you going to come yet?" she asks.
"Keep sucking," I tell her, as I push her head back down my shaft. "You

started this on your own."

I cruise around Hero's square, under its classic Greek columns. She con-

tinues her rhythmic pace, as I guide her with my paw on the back of her
head. Okay, they're still half hands since I can work the steering wheel, but
they could slice through her if that's what I really wanted. Having circum-
navigated the square I return to tree-lined Andrassy in the opposite direction.

She circumnavigates my tip with her tongue, infuriating me with intense

pleasure while she squeezes the base of my cock in her grip. I stay in the
slow lane for I'm about to come. I push her head down, all the way down. I
hear her muffled moan. A sports car rushes past, beeping his horn. That's
when I give her my release.

I like the way she doesn't let even a drop stain my pants. Nothing ruins

of a pair of well tailored pants like a splotch you-know-where.

"I hope this won't shut you down for the night," she says as she sits up.

She checks herself in the passenger mirror.

Like An Animal 83

"No chance of that," I tell her. I look at myself in the rearview.Then I look

up to the sky, locking eyes with the full moon. "No chance at all, my dear."

****

It was all over the news today. The Prime Minister had been secretly

recorded admitting he and his party did nothing but bring the country to
ruin in his two terms in office. Naturally, a crowd of thousands gathered
around the Parliament once the story broke. While reasonable people stayed
indoors, hotheads started smashing shop windows and overturning cars.
They eventually broke into the Parliament itself.

I ask her if she's up for some excitement. She says she is. So, I drive to the

Parliament and park a few blocks away. By the time we get to Kossuth Square,
we see a full fledged protest brewing. We watch from behind a parked van
in an adjacent alleyway. The protest turns into a riot as bottle-throwers break
through police lines and send them back to regroup.

Someone manages to start a Soviet-era tank and drive it across the plaza.

Police in riot gear can do nothing but break ranks and step out of the way.

Then the police bring in a water cannon mounted on a truck. We watch

a dozen rioters overturn it. Not knowing what to do next, they let the police
trapped inside walk away. How sporting of them.

More police. More rioters.
"I so love confusion," I tell her as I hold Gabriella by the hand. I am care-

ful not to dig into her with my clawed fingers. By now, this act of restraint
takes all my will power.

A pair of rioters runs into my alley, throwing stones back at the police.

They don't see me ahead of them until it's too late.

Gabriella shrieks, but the two punks don't have time to make a sound

before I leap on them and tear out their throats.

I gorge myself on their flesh. All in all, not very satisfying. Both have the

aftertaste of a lifetime of alcohol, cigarettes, and drugs.

I see her standing in the shadows against the wall, frozen terror on her

face. I like frozen terror. It excites me. Especially during that one moment
when they turn and run.

Only, Gabriella doesn't turn and doesn't run. Not even when I approach

her, haunches ready to pounce, to strike without warning. No, she doesn't
run. She walks up to me slowly. I straighten myself and look her squarely in
the eye. I breathe heavily on her. She takes a handkerchief and wipes the
blood from my face.

Like An Animal 84

Cleaning my face like that is kinda sexy.
I lift her dress and pull down her panties. She gasps as I lift her against

the brick wall. She holds my face, my crazed werewolf face, in her hands. It's
amazing, she doesn't care what I look like. And she wants me, with canine
teeth, wild eyes and all. She wraps her legs around my hips. I fumble with
my belt. It isn't easy with claws. I rip my pants as I pull them down. A part
of me notices I've just ruined another new Armani suit. The rest of me just
looks with a wild passion at Gabriella against the wall.

She moans as I take her - as I push into her. I know I'm rough, but I see

how it's driving her over the edge. I thrust into her even harder. I expect her
to turn away, or at least to struggle.Yes, I know she wanted this. But now that
she's getting it, she must feel revulsion at some level. Yet, she just looks into
my eyes as if she was looking through the wolf into my soul.

"Don't look at me," I tell her.
"Why?" She asks as she strokes my face. I turn away since she won't. But

she turns my face back to hers. "You're beautiful," she says. Then she kisses
me before I can say I'm not. She tears open my shirt and runs her fingers
through my pelt. "Yes, you are so beautiful -" She rests her head against my
fur-covered chest.

Police sirens wail just a few meters away in the street; then the sound of

bottles breaking against riot shields. Gabriella gasps when I thrust against her
g-spot. Someone throws a Molotov cocktail in the square. Her breathing
intensifies.The crowd screams as another water cannon is turned onto them.
Gabriella pulls me to her as she orgasms.

A group of rioters, six of them, run into my alley to get away from the

police. I turn and roar at them. We must have been quite a sight to see, for
they freeze in place. Their stones roll out of their hands. One of them wets
his pants. They turn and run back into the street, preferring to take their
chance with the police.

We make love in the alley that night while Budapest goes to hell around

us. We roll to the ground. We don't care. At least I don't. I pull her dress off
over her head, then I rip away her brassiere. I take hold of her breasts in my
wolf hands/human paws. It takes all my self control not to scratch her, not
to draw blood, instead I gently run my nails down her tender skin. I watch
her nipples spring to attention like I've never seen before. She digs her fin-
gers into my pelt; she makes no motion to pull me away from her breasts.
She trusts me that much.

Like An Animal 85

I don't even trust myself that much. What keeps me restrained is an intel-

lectual curiosity of what I can do to her, how can I excite her, how many dif-
ferent ways can I play the instrument of her body. This staves off the animal
urges.Yes, the wolf in the moon is talking, too. Just one little scratch, he says,
go on. Just a few beads of blood on her nipples you can lick. Just a gentle
paw swipe along her breasts to leave a mark she'll remember you by. Just dig
in to her throat and taste that pumping blood as she screams in terror! But
no, it's not going to be like that. I have enough of me left inside to keep the
wolf at bay. Besides, I think I'm about to come.

I howl a howl that stops the city. I come as she holds me tight, pulling me

into her all the more. I collapse on top of her, breathing heavy on her neck,
snorting a snort of contentment. Growling a happy, satisfied growl.

I hold her for a long time.
"We have go get up," I say, remembering who I really am. The sound of

the rioting has almost completely stopped by this time. "We should be on
our way before we get swept up with the stragglers."

I get no objection from her. We're both pretty ragged by then: her party

dress is stained and ripped and another new suit of mine can go into the
trash with all the blood and street grime over it. I hope I remember where I
left my car.

****

We sleep in then go out again the next night. And the night after that. I

sate myself and Gabriella watches with a morbid fascination. We make love
in outrageous places. But then, the moon begins to wane. I read about the
gruesome killings in the Budapest Sun, the city's English language paper.
Pictures of the bodies are all over the TV news, too. Suddenly, I'm tired of
this. I have no more appetite for blood and feel it's time for a break.

I still invite Gabriella over. Although the lovemaking is sweet, she starts to

beg out of my invitations as often as not. I don't argue about that with her
and let her have her space. I guess it's the moon, or lack thereof, that's turn-
ing me into a gentleman. She tells me she should be spending time with her
son. I didn't even know she had a son.

As the moon wanes, I turn my attention to mundane matters like manag-

ing my business. By the time the moon is new, I am immersed in work. As
it starts to wax, I start making those daring business moves that keep me in
my suits, penthouse, and BMW. I'll only have a little time for that, for when
the moon is full again, those "daring" moves tend to become reckless, or so

Like An Animal 86

I'm told. But by then, I'll have other things on my mind.

I don't know what happened to Gabriella. She's not returning my calls.

Then it occurs to me, I never got her last name, or her address. I might have
satisfied her curiosity, or I might have been more than she could handle.
Although, she handled herself rather well. After all, she didn't get eaten. To
hell with her, I tell myself, no more love at first sight.

Damn her.
It comes time to shop for a new suit. I step out for the afternoon and go

to the city center, past the tourist busses loaded with sixty-year-old Japanese
women in panama hats. I make my way through the throng of tourists on
Vaci Utca, eying all those cute girls in their summer halters and shorts. I have
Warren Zevon playing on the iPod. A little redhead looks at me from an out-
door table of a restaurant. I wink back.

I am the American Werewolf in Budapest. The moon is full. I'm well

dressed. And my hunger is stronger than ever.

Elizabeth Reeve lives in the Sonoran Desert with her husband, a pair of

standard-issue writers' cats, and a backyard full of wild-growing nightshade.
She is often startled awake at midnight by the haunting calls of coyotes chas-
ing their prey through the wash near her house, or by the college students
next door throwing a party. You can find her online at
www.ElizabethReeve.com

Renata Piper, PhD loves linguistics, neuroscience, horses, Iceland, quwaali

music, Rainier cherries, art bicycles, and her household. You can tell from
the story how she feels about werewolves, women, and the moon.

Born in west Texas, David Hubbard currently resides in the Dallas area

where he works in telecommunications and lives with his partner of eight
years and their three-year-old boxer, Pagan. David is working on completing
his bachelor's degree in English with a double minor in Creative Writing and
Medieval & Early Modern Studies. He has been published in Bloodlines: The
Chosen by White Wolf game studios. His hobbies include gaming, online
shopping and poking dead things with a stick.

A.D.R. Forte's erotic short fiction appears in various anthologies includ-

ing Best Women's Erotica 2008, and several collections from Black Lace and Cleis
Press. Her story "Healer" is featured in Like a Sword: Erotic Tales of High Fantasy
from Circlet Press.

Becca Ovadia was born in Greenfield, Massachusetts and graduated from

Brandeis University in 2005 with a BA in Creative Writing. She works at a
health insurance company writing boring letters about appeals and griev-
ances while dreaming of writing stories, poems, and novels. She lives in
Watertown, Massachusetts with her wonderful husband and girlfriend, and
their cat, Ms. Kitty Fantastico.

Contributors’ Notes

Like An Animal 88

A.N. Cortez is an Asian-Australian writer. She lives with an imaginary

menagerie (which, to her girlfriend's dismay, never stops growing), a god-
cat, and the scandalous shenanigans of imaginary people inside her head.
"Lupine House" is her debut erotic publication.

Joe Nobel has always enjoyed science fiction, fantasy, and erotica. His

writing blends all three genres where he explores the darkest recesses of car-
nal desire. Besides writing, he enjoys travel, cycling, and indigenous music
from around the world. Joe has lived for several years in Budapest, Hungary,
but denies that this story is autobiographical. He currently lives in a Boston
suburb and programs computers for his day job.

If you enjoyed this book, you will likely enjoy many of our other fine

anthologies of erotic science fiction and fantasy including Best Fantastic
Erotica, Sextopia Erotic Fantastic, and many others. In summer 2008 we have
converted nearly all of our backlist print titles into ebooks, but if there is a
title you want that you don't see available in the format you prefer, please let
us know!

Circlet Press new ebook releases:

Like A Myth: Erotic Folklore and Fantasy
Circlet's newest ebook anthology features more supernatural elements

and steamy chance meetings now set against a rich backdrop of faraway
places. But beneath the mythic and supernatural layers lie very human moti-
vations that transcend cultural barriers. Enjoy the erotic and romantic expe-
riences that are possible beyond the borders we create in four brand new
stories found nowhere else.

Like A Wisp of Steam: Steampunk Erotica
Lust and leaping 'technologie' meet in a Victorian era that never was in

five brand new erotic steampunk stories. Jason Rubis, Thomas S. Roche,
Vanessa Vaughn, Peter Tupper, and Kaysee Renee Robichaud create fascinat-
ing tales of airships, corsetry, mad scientists, and drama.

Like A Sword: Erotic Tales of High Fantasy
Swords and sorcery stories that swirl with sensuality. These are tales of

mages and magic, of warriors and princes and forest folk. But not all battles
are won with armies, and magic finds its power not just in heart and soul
but in body and desire. Four erotic short stories from some well-known
erotica writers and some newcomers: Jason Rubis, Jean Roberta, Argus
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Like Crimson Droplets: Erotic Vampire Stories
Veteran authors Jason Rubis, Genieveve Eldredge, and Thomas Roche

along with newcomer Cari Z. come together to bring you four new erotic
vampire stories, with each offering a different outlook on the myth of the
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character is altered, breaking out of the world they know into something
spectacular.

We'd also love to see feedback from you about what you'd like to see in

future print or electronic books! Drop by our Live Journal community at cir-
cletpress.livejournal.com or comment in our MySpace, or on any entry at
www.circlet.com.

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