Bitch

  Bitch

  By Breukelen Girl

  A Werewolf in Brooklyn Blog - Zine Edition

  © Copyright 2015

  This e-book is intended for a mature audience. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may contain violent and sexual content. By downloading this book, and reading this book and, you consent to being of legal age for such material.

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  Writing takes time and effort and Breukelen Girl goes to a lot of it for your reading enjoyment.

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  You can find more of Bg’s free writing on her blog “A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn”

  http://altijdbreukelen.wordpress.com

  You can find a Free podcast series Red, White and Werewolf available on Itunes, Stitcher Radio and Talk Shoe

  1

  “You fucking bitch!” My lips turn up into a sweet smile.

  “Thank you.” I reply stepping over the man on the polished wooden floor underneath me.

  “I do fuck and I am a bitch. So that’s fairly accurate. But I never agreed to fuck you. What I’m not,” I say squatting down in my Jimmy Choo heels beside the out of luck male’s face, brushing his hair back out of his face “Is stupid, naive or weak.”

  I tighten the wrist straps around his back. “And you need to learn to respect women more.” I say checking the hog tie I’ve got on him, made out of his own neck ties. He’s trying to sputter and talk but I run my fingers over his lips pursing them together as he rests like a trussed up pig on his stomach, arms and legs folded behind him. “Now, just try and relax, the police will be here soon to release you, I’ll even leave the front door open for them.” I release his lips and he starts cursing at me.

  My finger nail begins to change shape, sharpening to a razor sharp, narrow point and I allow him to see it close to the iris of his eye. “ Now, if you try that shit on any other woman I’ll ensure your ass gets more than kicked.” He stills completely, he holds his breath as I deliver my little message. Of course, I’m all talk, but it’s how you deliver it.

  Being called a bitch when you’re a alpha female werewolf, really takes on double meaning of the word when it’s thrown at you. So it’s hard to blink at it. Especially if you here it more than once. Like I tend to. Sometimes it’s jealousy, most of the time it’s because I play the same hard ball the boys do and I won’t be walked over and I won’t be had. Sometimes it’s out of anger in losing to me. My finger nail retreats to normal as I move away from him and I shake the fuzziness in my head where he bashed it into the wall when I was off my guard.

  The reality is, he’s a human and I’m not. Therefore despite being justified in wanting to maim that fucker permanently by ripping his balls off, I’m not allowed to. Being a pack werewolf means you work by pack rules. And our number one rule, is no killing slash harming of humans. It complicates everything the minute you do.

  I stand up and gather up my Hermes handbag and walk back out the front door, throwing my blonde hair over my shoulders. “Oh and if the police want to talk to me, you have my number right?” I say standing in the doorway of his place. He tries wriggling around on the floor. I’m a native New Yorker, this prick should know better than to mess with me. But looks can be deceiving. I sigh and walk back out to the elevator and press the button for the lower level.

  “Oh and I’m no longer interested the sideboard you are selling. I don’t buy from perverts who like to use the ruse of furniture sales for attempting to rape women.” I tell him from the hallway, through the open doorway. Guess I’ll have to get the antique sideboard I was after another way. Because it’s not worth going through all that mauling and above all else, pretending to play nice while the leech keeps moving in on you as you check it out. To you find yourself, stupidly in a vulnerable position. I look at my torn dress strap and lift it and let it drop.

  “Colton you are off you’re game.”

  The mirrored walls of the elevator is good enough for me to brush my bangs out of the way, yeah there is an angry red bruise on my forehead that is highly noticeable, and a dried blood trail running down from it, down the side of my nose.

  Looking into my purse I pull out a disposable tissue and wet it with my tongue and start dabbing the blood trail away. I have already decided not to press charges against this guy. I don’t need the cops involved in my life. My pack would frown down on me for bringing them closer to us if I did. We always handle things our own way. In ways that are too hard to explain to police officers. Besides, the bruise won’t stay for long. In about an hour and half it’ll likely have disappeared completely and by the time the cops get back to me, if they do, then I won’t even have any evidence of the physical assault on me to show. Courtesy of being an alpha werewolf, my healing abilities are great. They work fast, real fast by human standards.

  Being a werewolf female is far harder than being a male one, of that I’m sure.

  2

  It’s been an hour and no call from the cops, so I gather that my little pervert friend either somehow called them off, all though that seems hard, given the phone call I left for 911. Or they’re too busy to chase me up since I didn’t stay for their rescue. Not that I need rescuing. That guy’s just lucky I didn’t decide to show him what I’m really capable of. For god sakes, I think fatal thoughts about a specific pack mate, every time see her.

  “Oh god, did I just call Bg a pack mate?” I groan at myself.

  Bg Sommers is not a Manhattan Maen werewolf and I am not loyal to her, or even friends with her. So I have no inclination to protect her, or help her or be friends with her in any manner. Not like all the other werewolves in our pack who have just accepted the Brooklyn werewolf because she’s sleeping with our pack leader, Paris D’arenberg.

  Personally I don’t get what he sees in her. She’s nothing terribly special. Yet every male that comes into contact with her and spends time with her, seems to think she’s something special. Whatever it is about her, it’s not obvious and that makes me suspicious of her and her motives to not only our pack leader, but our pack. I will defend my pack. I believe in my pack and I believe in me. I also believe, that Bg does not fit into our pack and that more of us, than just the pack alpha, Paris, should have a say on whether she can join us or their relationship can go ahead.

  There are implications with Paris’s relationship with Bg if they get serious. Well, more serious than he already appears to be. The whole time I’ve known Paris and the whole time he’s been pack leader of the Manhattan Maen, he’s never courted a female werewolf to be his pack mate. He’s never been in a relationship at least, a public one like the one he is so willing to show off with Bg. He did have a few dates with my sister once, Isabelle. I had hoped somehow that they would work out together.

  I blink and look back at my closet, a change of outfit is needed because there’s a blood stain on my dress that I wore to creepo’s apartment, when I thought I was actually looking at something for sale. I pull out my power dress. It never fails me.

  Electric blue lace bateau-neck sheath, that stops just at my knees. I look amazing in this if I don’t over do the rest of the outfit. Hair out and straightened, light make up, nude lips and nude heels.

  I’m too restless to stay at home any longer. I’ve done the polite thing and given the police their opportunity to talk to me. My civic duty is done. It’s a fine line balancing act being a werewolf living in New York. I think the worst thing my kind can do when in certain situations, is try to hide from the nons. I mean, it’s their world we live in, in plain sight. So if you’re truly smart, you will play along to a degree, tread the li
ne between acceptance and normality for them whilst being true to the werewolf pack ways.

  Grabbing an clutch purse I head back out, this time, I go to familiar ground. A werewolf hang out for the Manhattan Maen werewolves, Crescent, a club in the meat packing district. I have shares in this one and two others that are run by the pack. Crescent’s more subtle club than the other wolf run ones that get used heavily during lunar weeks. It’s got dimmer lighting and a bit of grungy feel to it without being actually grungy. It’s intimate and kind of quiet by comparison. I can go there and feel safe and surrounded and still sexy at the same time.

  Not that I feel sexy right now, but image is important to me. And I need to know that I can still look like me, be me. I don’t know how to explain it. The cab ride to Crescent is quick and I’m checking my make up again in my compact when I catch the sight of a car behind us with two men in it, from the corner of my vision.

  “Shit.” I close the compact and look out the back window of the taxi cab. The taxi driver looks back over his shoulder at me.

  “Everything alright Miss?”

  “It will be.” I say handing over notes to the driver and opening the cab draw and putting my best leg forward. The old Manhattan Maen pack leader, Montell saw a few scrapes with the local authorities under his rule and I became very cluey at spotting out of uniform detectives. It’s almost like a sixth sense, really. I pretend I don’t know that they’re there and walk into Crescent.

  Walking down the stairs into the maroon interior and dim lighting of Crescent is like being transported into a bar in Saigon or somewhere exotic overseas. I think that’s why I like so much, it’s an escape within my own city. I can forget the werewolf world for a few hours when I’m in here. And about odd things that crop up like fighting a guy who technically had more power to weight ratio on me than I do on him and how I still managed to beat him and tie him up this afternoon and have no scars to prove he was assaulting me, not the other way around.

  I walk towards the bar immediately and as I do, I spot the one werewolf I do not want to see in my club, on today of all days. Bg Sommers is throwing her black hair over her shoulder and smiling up at the pack leader, Paris who’s smiling back at her like some stupid love struck fool.

  “Ugh.” I turn to the bar. I’ve never seen Paris act this way before, ever. This Brooklyn bitch has changed him. I thought after Isabelle left the pack that Paris would be open to dating me. But he never really showed interest. But I think he just needs to see me as a better ideal than an outsider coming into our pack.

  The reality is, our pack is a strong one for very specific reasons. We do not operate like other packs. We have a history that has been in New York for decades. Our pack is old money, and lots of old ways. Unlike the Breukelen where Bg is from, we do offer pack status to those who are not werewolves. No matter how much they work alongside us or believe in us etc. We ensure lycans stay out of our territory so they can not become a feral problem. And most of our pack hierarchy are very selective when it comes to choosing a pack mate and never are they chosen from outside of our pack.

  The attendant hands me a dirty appletini and I walk over to Paris and Bg’s little corner of the world as I hear the double steps of the police detectives at the top of the stairs.

  I smile brightly at them as I side up to their table and throw Paris’s lapdog Addison a look as he stand up and says “No bitch fights tonight, Gabby.” Addison says tiredly like he’s lecturing me again.

  “Smile, there are two police detectives about to walk over here and start asking questions.” I say between clenched teeth in a low voice.

  3

  I place my martini down on the table along with my clutch and sit down at the Alpha’s table. Ever since Bg came along and decided to become number one bitch in our territory I’ve no longer been allowed to sit amongst the alpha’s at the alpha’s table when out.

  I sit down and return a smile of insincerity to Bg. That bitch hates me as much as I hate her. “Love your dress.” I say glancing at what she is wearing. Is she changing her dress style to appeal more to my pack leader? I’m sure I can do something about that. The question is who’s ear do I need to bend?

  “So what is this about?” Paris asks her, sliding his arm around Bg’s shoulders as they both look at me.

  But before I can reply, the Police detectives are within speaking distance of our table. “Miss Gabrielle Colton?” One of them asks and we all turn and look up at the two gentlemen in suits with police badges on display on their jacket pockets. I smile and look over at them.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m Detective Johnson and this is Detective Williams. We were hoping to talk to you about the call you placed to 911 this afternoon, in lower Manhattan.” Everyone at the table looks at me and back at the cops.

  “Did I do something wrong?” I ask feigning innocence.

  “No, we just wanted to check on your welfare in regards to it.” Detective Williams says to me. He’s younger than his partner. And could be a damn model if he wanted to give it a shot. Baby blue eyes, a bit of man stubble, messy hair, but his clothes are clean and sharp.

  I roll my eyes unable to stop myself. “He want’s to press charges doesn’t he?” I reply picking up my martini and taking a sip. “Against me because I humiliated him.” All eyes return to looking at me and I look away from Paris who is dying to ask me what the hell is going on.

  “I don’t mean to interfere, but is Gabby is any legal trouble here? Because if she is we’d like to ensure she knows her rights.” Paris says trying for friendly but coming off as aggressive. I feel a small burst of pride that he would still look to protect his number one alpha female.

  “Miss Colton hog tied a guy in his own apartment floor, with his pants down for us to find, after placing a call to nine one one reporting an attempted sexual assault.” Detective Johnson replies just as aggressively back at Paris.

  “Oh my god, Gabby are you okay?” Bg asks me quickly and I wonder why she bothers to suddenly pretend to care for me.

  “Maybe we could talk about this somewhere in private Miss Colton?” Detective Johnson says in the softer tone of voice at me. He’s clearly younger than his partner and the calmer of the two.

  “Uh, you can have our booth, we’ll move. Gabby we’ll be nearby if you need us, just call out.” Paris says nodding his head at Addison who starts moving towards another area of the bar. Bg follows Paris out of the booth leaving me alone with the two nicely concerned, human, police detectives. Who I know aren’t so much concerned with my well being as they are about how I overpowered the guy. I’m female, I’m not supposed to be powerful or one up a guy.

  The detectives sit down and Johnson rests his forearms on the table. “Want to tell us what happened back there?”

  I shake my head. “No.” I say with a closed smile back at him. “Is the guy dead or something?”

  “No, it’s just angry.” Johnson answers me. “Which makes us a little concerned for you. He lured you in with an ad for a sale of a furniture piece, he has your details, knows your name.”

  “I can look after myself just fine.” I reply back at the detective.

  They both chuckle and look at one another. “We can tell. You did a magnificent job on the hog tie on that perp.” Johnson says back at me. “Not sure how you got the drop on him. But glad you did.”

  I nod my head back at him. I’m not going to offer any other details that aren’t being asked of me. That’s how things get complicated when you can’t explain to humans what they don’t know or won’t believe, like werewolves existing and living in their world. “So is he pressing charges against me for defending myself after he attacked me?” I fire back at them.

  “Initially, he wanted to. But we managed to convince him that would not be in his best interests.” Williams replies smiling at me as his eyes, his eyes have something like fierceness in them and heat. He’s flirting with me.

  My nostrils flare and I scent him. It’s habit. He smells like ciga
rette smoke, coffee, musk and aftershave that has licorice in it. I smile back. I don’t tend to gravitate towards humans despite attraction. Because it gets messy too easily, I’ve seen this attraction, flirting, relationship thing happen with other werewolves who’ve tried and it just ruins everything.

  “We just wanted to check if you were okay and to advise you, that you have every right to press charges against this perp and that we encourage women who’ve experienced this kind of thing, to report it formally and do that.”

  “Why?” I ask curiously enjoying sitting opposite the two detectives.

  “If this guy’s never thought of doing what he tried on you today before, reporting them and making formal charges on a first timer, tends to turn them off reoffending. Because they get caught and know that they’re then on record.” I nod my head. Already being around these humans is becoming complicated. I don’t want to be on a police record for any reason what so ever. Humans, they always dig in and make a mess of things.

  “I’ll think about it when I’ve had a chance to sort through my emotional state.” I reply back at both of them. The detectives start to move , getting out of the booth again.

  “Uh, Miss Colton if you’re concerned for your well being, which would be quite natural given the nature of what happened to you this afternoon, we can assign someone to watch your apartment tonight.” Detective Johnson says back at me as they stand up.

  I look at him. My first instinct is my werewolf one and I have to quash it down because it’s not what a human woman would do. I have to play a little vulnerable here, when really I’d be ready to fight that pervert any time. Werewolves do not run from prey like him. I already bested him once, I could easily do it again. Besides, if I really did need to rely on males to save me as it were. I’d call on certain male werewolves to help out. We have some amazing fighters in our pack.

  But instead, what I say is “Thank you, I would appreciate the sense of security that would give me tonight.”