A Kiss From A Wolf

Fur Rivers, Louisiana.

It all began on a cold, blistering, chilling night in January. The time was past nine. The moon - just sliding out comfortably from behind the fluffy clouds - was big and white like the face of a dead man.

As Selena Charlton stepped out of her house, a gust of cold, cutting wind, swirled to where she stood, and washed over her. She shivered as she rubbed her hands together, grateful for the thick sweatshirts she had worn. She waited for some moment, staring up at the sky, her eyes raveling at the size of the moon and how white it looked. Then she drew in a long, slow breath and began to make her way to the town’s bar which was just a few blocks away from her house.

The bar was one of the oldest buildings in the town of Fur Rivers. It was owned by a man named Sam Wesley who was her adopted father. Selena drops in once in a while to help Sam run the bar, especially during those times he had to cope with the rush of the patrons. For this, Sam pays her some wages and because he doted on her so much, he sometimes overpays her. Due to some certain reasons – if he had a choice – he wouldn’t allow Selena to even go near the bar but she always has a way of getting things done her way.

That night, Selena sauntered into the bar and looked around. The patrons were still all there. Laughing, giggling, cheering whistling boisterously.

As she walked over to the bar, some of the men in the room regarded her, their drunk, leery eyes stripping her luscious body, inch by inch, curves by curves. The men whistled. And there were some catcalls. Some men leered at her, sardonic, predatory expressions on their faces. None of them made the move to talk to her.

They were like most drunk, sex-starved, perverted men; all mouth and no balls.

Selena ignored them all. She got to the bar, pulled out a stool and sat on it. Sam – with a leather -worn face, white shock of hair, strong, wiry hands and arranging some wines in the wine shelves – swung around when he heard movements behind him. His old, tired stricken face creased into a warm smile when he saw Selena. “Hello there, cupcake,” he said. grinning. “When I heard the boys and their damned laughter, I should have known.”

“Those lousy fools,” Selena said, shrugging indifferently. “They are always like that and they would always be like that. Seriously, I don’t give a damn about what they think of me.”

Sam studied her beautiful, well accentuated face and shook his head. What a raving virago, he thought proudly. Aged twenty three, Selena was a brunette with a long, glossy hair, high-breasted body, full solid hips, long legs, violet eyes that shone like emeralds, luscious, soft lips that promises paradise and a face that reflected deep sensitivity: a face that was ready to smile, laugh or frown.

“You know they do have a point,” Sam continued, his eyes gentle and affectionate. “You know that don’t you?”

“No they don’t!” Selena seethed out. “But I don’t care, dad. As long as you are here, I feel safe. I know you’ll protect me. That’s why I’ll always keep coming here. And no one dares stop me!”

Sam shook his head, a resigned expression on his face.

"Selena, you are a tough girl and quite stubborn too. For a man like me, protecting someone your age can be tricky," he said, eyeing the rowdy men nearby. "It's not safe for a pretty young lady like you to be here tonight. We agreed you'd only come on busy days when things are calmer. Nights like this, with the men all rowdy, it's risky," he explained, gesturing helplessly. "Imagine a room full of drunk men and one beautiful girl. You know what could happen, right?" He looked at her, his gray eyes full of concern.

Selena shrugged indifferently.

“I don’t know, dad,” She said blandly. “I only came here to cool off and see you. Now, give me a gin, dad. Straight up! And don’t you think of refusing me one.”

Sam shook his gray head resignedly.

“A tough one, Selena. A tough one, that’s what you are.” He said again. He picked up a bottle of Vodka, sloshed the drink into a glass and gave it to her. She picked up the glass and downed the drink.

The drink sent a shiver down Selena's spine, then warmed her up. She handed the glass to Sam for a refill. He looked at her with a resigned expression but poured her another. Sam had known Selena since she was little; her mom, Liza, and he were close friends. Rumor had it that Selena's father was a tall, powerful looking drifter who swept into town, charmed Liza, got her pregnant, and disappeared. Liza didn't talk much about him, but some town folks knew the whole story. When Liza fell ill and passed away, Sam took in six-year-old Selena, cared for her like his own, and eventually adopted her. With Fur Rivers being a slow thriving, no jobs town with few opportunities, Sam gave Selena weekly allowances to help her get by after she finished high school.

Just as he was fixing the drink, the door of the bar pushed forcefully open and two men in black overcoats walked into the bar. Both men were tall and powerfully built.

Their black hats were well put down over their faces. Almost abruptly, the noise in the bar went down a notch and a cold silence that you could hang a hat on descended on the room. The men in the room stared hard at the two strangers as they both strolled........side by side...... leisurely to the bar. They both pulled out a stand and sat down heavily. They did not look at Selena who was staring at them, an aloof look on her face.

One of them said to Sam.

“Tequila on the rocks! Double! And fast!” His voice was hard and roughened.

Sam nodded, moistened his lips with his tongue, went on to fix the drink, served them and edged away to a corner of the bar. He went on cleaning the glasses but every now and then he stole a quick glance at the two black clad men.

By now, the noise of the bar had resumed, but some of the men continued to watch the two strangers......it was as if they were expecting something to happen.

One of the strangers turned his head. His eyes caught Selena who was watching what Sam was doing keenly. He whistled under his breath and licked his lips. His name was Conan. He regarded her for a long moment, then he turned to his other partner and whispered in his ears.

The other man named Helldog dragged his eyes to Selena. He studied her for a moment then he winked his eyes at his partner. Conan gave a hard smile, brought out a pack of cigarettes from his pockets, shook out one, stuck it into his mouth, brought out a lighter, cupped his hand around the cigarette and lit it. While he was doing all these, his eyes never left Selena. He drew in smoke, let it out in a long spiral to the ceilings and edged his stool closer to her.

“Whatcha doing here, pumpkin?” His voice was soft and yet there was undefinable steel in it.

Selena had heard him alright. But she pretended as if she had not heard what he had said.

Conan watched her, knowing that she had heard him and hating her immediately for ignoring him.

“Are you deaf or something?” the softness in his voice was gone now. “I’m talking to you, woman!” his voice sounded like a whiplash.

Selena turned slowly in her seat. Her cold eyes moved over Conan's clothing and dusty black boots and back to his face. Then she smiled. It wasn’t a nice one.

“I don’t know who you are, mister, but I believe my business ain’t your business! Mind your business and stay the hell away from mine.” her eyes were cold as two pellets of ice.

Anger jumped into Conan' eyes.

“Such a spitfire huh? Your mouth sure needs some fixing! I’ll be willing to fix it.” He was staring hard at her now. He took off his hat and sat it on the table gently.

Selena was taken aback. Staring right at her, were two yellow embers of eyes that sent a prickling sensation up her spine despite herself. She could see – now that he wasn’t wearing a hat – that his mouth was curved into a tight snarl and his face was lean, hard and almost wolfish. Actually...it was hungrily, wolfish.

He stood up from the stool; his eyes peering hard at her and her nostrils caught the smell of a dog with wet fur. There was something feral and dangerous about him. Something animal-like. It was strange to think that way of a man and yet she was certain of this.

She dragged her eyes to the other man. If he was aware of what was going on, he did not even show it. He was concentrating hard on the drink before him. She studied the two men closely. Surely! There was something awfully dreadful about these two....... She was certain of it now.

He must have sensed her fear because he was smiling at her sardonically but that smile did not even ease off the menacing expression on his face.

“So you are not such a toughie are ya?” he was obviously enjoying himself. “Tell you what, why don’t you and me go back out there and talk things over?”

“No!” Selena said breathlessly. Her voice was low but strong.

“No?” he growled at her and she caught a whiff of that animal scent again. “What the hell do you mean by that?” his eyes had become two bright sparks of yellow bulbs.

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” She said shakily, hating the sudden fear in her voice. “Leave me alone!”

“And if I don’t?” Conan fired back. “Hey listen, I hate tough girls. Never liked ‘em. You do as I say or I’ll break every damn bone in your body,”

“Do as he says,” Helldog, who had been quiet the whole time, said. “Conan has a way of getting things his way especially with women.” His voice was low and unfeeling. He took off his hat and looked at her.

Selena dragged her eyes to his face and at once regretted it. In contrast to Conan's yellow, amber eyes, Helldog’s eyes were the color of a scorching sun. He had a narrow, pinched face which looked like a dry skull, thin, small lips, and cold, frightening burning eyes that stared right into her with painful intensity.

Selena shivered again and quickly looked back at Conan.

“I don’t want any trouble with you guys,” she said, her voice scarcely above a whisper. “Please just leave me alone.”

Conan sniggered. He was looking at her the way a snake would look at a trapped weasel.

“You are coming with me honey,” He smiled, revealing, strong, dirty, razor edged teeth. “Let’s go back. You will enjoy it, I promise you.” and he gripped her arms and his hands digging into her felt like steel hooks. She whimpered out in pain but he ignored her.

He jerked her off the stool and peered into her face. “You and I are going to have a nice time!” the thick smell of tobacco and tequila fanned across her face.

Irritated and filled with disgust, Selena tried to throw his hands off her but she found out that she was no match for him. She looked into his eyes. She could see he was dead serious about what he intended to do to her. There was no question about that. Fear like the slow thrust of a knife began to enter her body.

Sam, who had been watching the whole thing, bent down, rifled through the counter top shelf and brought out a sawed off shot-gun. He aimed the gun at the head of Conan.

“Let go of her! Or I’ll blow your head clean off,” he growled, gripping the gun tightly in his hands, his old leather face, tired but determined.

Conan, still holding Selena, turned his head slowly to look at Sam. Seeing the gun pointed at him, he grinned wickedly.

“What are you doing, old timer fooling around with a piece like that?” he jeered, his yellow eyes regarding the gun in Sam’s hands shrewdly. “This is not your show. Quit fooling around with that piece or you are also gonna get it” the threat in his voice was profound.

“Let go of her, mister! Or so help me God, I’ll put these slugs into you!” Sam gritted out. “I’m warning you, mister! Let go of that lad.” there was a menacing expression in his eyes now and in that moment, Selena became aware of two things simultaneously; that Sam had come to her rescue - as she had always believed he would - and how much the old man loved her. That instant, her love for him tripled.

“What do you say?” Sam yelled, waving the gun at Conan' face.

“Don’t!” Helldog said simply.

Sam froze. He swung to Helldog. “What do you say?”

“I said don’t start what you can finish,” Helldog said from his seat. “Conan will break you like a goddamned stick!”

Sam's jaw dropped. There was rising panic on his face as he held the shotgun. Something about Helldog frightened him. He licked his lips with his tongue hastily.

“And if I refuse to listen to you?” He croaked.

“Then you’ll regret your action!” Helldog said simply. “Conan wants her. When Conan wants something he gets it! I said what I said,” he still did not move.......he only sat there, on the stool, his head bent, twiddling the drink in his hand. He did not even look at Sam all the time he had been talking. His air of aloofness threw a load of scare into Sam.

At that moment, the uncertainty on his face showed greatly and it hurt Selena’s heart to see the poor, old man this way. God! How could she have gotten him into this, she thought, desperately and she bit hard into her bottom lips until she tasted blood.

Suddenly, the bar door jerked open with a loud kick and a young man stepped into the room.

All the patrons, Sam, Conan and Selena swung around in terrifying shock to look at the intruder who stood at the entrance. Even Helldog turned around in his seat.

A look of recognition appeared on Selena’s face when she saw him.

The young man, barely twenty-three or twenty-four, stood tall at over six feet, with broad shoulders. He was powerfully built. With thick, wavy blonde hair and piercing green eyes, he exuded an air of ruggedness. Clad in all black - a leather jacket, tight pants, and sturdy boots - he looked every bit the enigmatic figure. Strapped to him were an array of weapons: blades, knives, a chromium crossbow, a small ax, and a formidable sword with a gleaming silver hilt. In his hands, he held a stainless steel gun, its polished surface reflecting the light above. Holstered at his hips were two gleaming pistols and a roll of shiny wires, each with jagged silver blades. His handsome face twisted in a lines of disgust and anger, marking him as a man of action, ready for whatever came his way.

“You filthy animal! I can smell you from a mile off!” he bawled. He cocked the gun in his hand roughly and the sound rolled around the room. “I’m gonna fix you motherfuckers!”

At first, Conan stood there like a stone, regarding the stranger bewilderedly. Then a look of recognition appeared on his face. His eyes widened in alarm, then twisted to deep savage hatred.

“You smell like a wolf hunter!” he growled, his voice shaking the room.“Helldog! Trouble is here! Fucking here!” and he shoved Selena away from him.

Still distracted by the presence of the man at the door, Selena thudded to the floor caught off guard. She yelled as she landed on her back. Wincing with pain, she raised herself up, still perplexed by the whole commotion around her. Just then, she began to hear a low, thick growling beside her, the kind of sound an angry, wild dog makes when it wants to attack you. Startled, she raised her head. What she saw made cold fear clutched at her heart. It was Conan who was making the sound all right. But he wasn’t only making the sound.

Something else was also happening; something terrifying and violently bizarre.

Conan was opening his mouth menacingly, revealing his teeth; It was actually fangs! Dirty, long, razor-like fangs. His clothes were ripping furiously off – she could hear it tore savagely – from his body. His face was expanding and contracting.......filling out.......thick long hair were beginning to spring out from his face, neck and body. His ears flattened back. His tongue lolled. Long, claw-like nails began to shoot out from his hands. His body was getting bigger and bigger, just the way a balloon fills out when you blow air into it.

The whole transformation was happening fast; too damn fast!