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Femme Wolf: WIP

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Jun. 23rd, 2006 | 12:59 am
mood: calmcalm
posted by: gweneth_syeira in iammarysue

Soooo. Your friendly neighbour MOD of all sweetness reporting. Haven't posted any crapness recently. Came up with something new. I've been fiddling with the idea of doing a female werewolf story for a while. You just don't see them! Not even in underworld!

Thus, this little WIP number came up. It's not a chapter or anything yet. Just a try out scene I'm been monkeying with. As a loyal mary sue supporter, based on dreams and spacing out whilst awake on 1 RL dude. (Can you spot Waldo the Mary Sue's Lurver?)

Lita Ava Gartell felt the claws penetrated sharply into her torso, deeper they went they seemed to grow wider, thicker as her flesh shredded. Tears streamed down the corners of her eyes as her inner stomach walls were torn apart. Her fingers trembled as they struggled to reach the penetrating claws. Devon shook her body at her touch and she gasped, coughing up blood, eyes hardening. First heat, then the cooling sensation of liquid trailed down her pelvic bone, soaked her jeans. That must be the blood, she supposed as she felt herself being thrown against a wall with a sickening thud. A clear roar of the infamous two lettered word: “NO!” was heard before the pool of blackness took her under.

“What have you done?!” Phil yelled, eyes blazing with venom.

Devon’s lips curled in a twisted smirk as he looked over to his protégé. “Ending all your delusions, doubts, and fears. You’ve know the girl since she was a child and neither of you will admit this…sickening love for the other I smell from the both of you.” He laughed, sharply and ugly. “You cannot bring her across; the silver bullet will automatically cancel out your disease and would ensure her to a quick death.”

The old wolf brought the tips of his fingers towards his lips, his tongue wrapped around each finger at a time, reveling in the taste. “Calm down, Philly, my boy. I am simply teaching you a lesson. You very well might be the heir to the throne, but in this world? In my world? It’s a war. And you do not need distractions of such likes. When you are ready, you will take a proper queen to serve you.” Phil shook his head in vain. “What will you do? A futile battle with me or try to save your petty friend?”

Phillip looked from his maker to Lita. A pool of blood had formed under and around her head, if it wasn’t for his supernatural hearing, he would have thought her dead. When he glanced back where his former friend was last seen at, he was gone. No real surprise, Phil thought. He jogged over to her and knelt down beside her, gently rolling her over on her back. Blood streamed down the valley of her breasts, soaking her white top or what was left of it. Bruises had bloomed on her face, throat, and god knew where else.

“Shit, Lita…” he whispered, shaking his head from the scent of her blood. He wasn’t a vampire, but the smell of blood combined with meat had awoken his inner beast. Moving a tanned hand over the top of her blood soaked hair, he stroked it softly, trying to think of what to do next. She had been shot, his nostrils picked up the scent of silver strongly. Who had been the one to shoot her? Devon couldn’t, he himself was a werewolf, which left one of his goons.


Lita! “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Wha’…what happened?”

“The bad man got to you before I could, hon.”

She smiled, but it twisted into a pained smile as she cough. “T’ink a rib’s broken…”

He laughed, unable to help himself. She was still herself. “I can imagine…Lita, do you know what’s happening to you?”

Her big brown eyes answered him: no. “You were shot after our last encounter and Devon found you, I guess, and did this…” his nodded his head at all the blood.

“I’m cold,” she whimpered, then sighed, closing her eyes tightly. “Help me, please…”

“Hon, I don’t know what I can do. I can try to get you to the hospi—”

“NO!” Lita opened her eyes wide with force. “*You* save me. I’ve seen you…I know how hairy you get…make me like you…”

“I can’t,” he started, shaking his head in denial.

“You *won’t*?” she struggled to keep him in focus. “I’ve always viewed you more than a teacher…” Lita felt numb now. She turned her head away from him and her eyes rolled, the room spinning out of focus as she lost consciousness again.

“Lita? Lita? Lita, hon, you there?” Phil’s hand turned her head back to look at him. So close to death. He could just let her go. She had a good few years, didn’t she? Strong, young woman throughout junior high to first year of college. Successful in academics, not the smartest, but still a brainiac in his mind at any rate. Now she was going to die, barely clothed, because of him. Phil had come to love her as a sister. Not that he was an only child, he came from a big family of a few sisters and brothers, had nieces, nephews, good parents he visited from time to time. Lita just happened to live closer than most of them and they always had trained together, ever since she had walked through that dojo on her seventh birthday wanting to learn Tae Kwon Do. They had been together since the beginning of her career and here she was, thirteen years later, dying. They were together at the end of her career and life. How poetic.

He picked the remains of the split shirt off her skin and carefully traced his finger in her blood, searching for the bullet wound. He found it above her right breast, five inches down from her collar bone. It must have been an amateur; the wound was sloppy. He guessed she was moving upon impact. She was going to be scarred for some time. Methodically, Phil started pulling the skin apart as he dug for the bullet. It had lodged itself in her breast bone. Thankfully, it wasn’t near anything too vital. No, Devon’s claws had taken care of that. He fished the bullet out, ignoring the searing that came from contact with the silver. Face twisted, he tossed it away, swearing under his breath as he glanced at his finger tips. Even with all the blood, the blisters had already developed and throbbed faster than any heart beat.

“Damn it,” he said, looking at her. Ideally, it wouldn’t have been a good idea digging around in someone’s body and blood for a bullet that was impossible to see—much less take out with his fingers alone. Like vampires, werewolves had the luxury of being diseased free for the most part, since they themselves had their own disease which would knock out other viruses.

In a strange way, she looked like a bloodied angel. Her hair had come undone from her hair holder and pooled around her in the blood. The crimson blood contrasted with her fair complexion of any known red-head, reminding him of roses lying on fresh snow. Swollen lips, usually pursed together were slightly parted. She was ready to be taken from the earth, wasn’t she?

Turning his head away, he closed his blue eyes tightly and frowned as he argued with himself. Could he make her really like him? Give her a lycan’s embrace? Would he kill her in the process instead of saving her? Did he really want her skin ripping apart to allow new organs to adjust every month? Could he ever look her in the eye again and see her for who she once was? What if she grew to hate him for making her a monster like him?

*Geez, vampires have it easier than us. Shit heads,* he mused to himself.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he forced his transformation. Black fur overrode the hair on his forearms and it slowly spread over his body, his face elongated, taking on wolfish features, as well as every other part of his body. Saliva dropped from his mouth into her wounds and Phil lowered his head, tongue darting out to lap up the blood, like how a dog would lick clean a pork chop. Each drop of his saliva made her blood boil and she spazzed slightly. Five minutes later, he pulled from her and leapt feet away from Lita’s body to return to his human form.

Pants barely in contact, he stumbled back over to her, breathing hard, sweat trailing down his pale chest, signs that when he worked outside, he wore a shirt. He crouched down beside her and picked her up in a bridle-hold before making his way out to his truck. It was time to go home and clean his cub.

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