| Fantasy Fiction posted February 23, 2020 | Chapters: |
3 4 -5- 6... 
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What's really going on within the werewolf clan...
A chapter in the book Obsessive Tendencies
Lay of the Land
by Y. M. Roger
The author has placed a warning on this post for violence.
The author has placed a warning on this post for language.
| Background Though Fated Mates, Celeste's and Gregor's realities must be dealt with. Gregor is a werewolf, a part of him savage and animalistic. And then there's clan politics... |
Where we left Andre and Gregor [end of Chapter 3]:
“A run, Dray.” He tossed the bottle into the sink behind Andre. “Where we can talk, oui?”
Andre nodded his understanding – he knew Gregor didn’t trust that he wasn’t being spied on. Taking a final swig out of his own bottle, he tossed it to join Gregor’s.
“I was gonna se–”
“We’ll be done long before morning,” Gregor interrupted him, locking the door as they exited, “I have somewhere to be at sunrise.”
Knowing that he wouldn’t get an answer now, Andre walked in silent solidarity beside Gregor to their bikes. The ride out to the clan’s sprawling estate outside of town would give them each time to think.
Begin Chapter 5:
As the wind rushed over and through his thick fur, Gregor reveled in the freedom of the run. The crisp air drawn in through his snout only pushed him harder, faster as it pushed forth a snarl simply for the pure enjoyment of the exertion.
Just beyond the muffled roars of the air currents pouring over his flattened ears, he heard Andre: his paws as they pounded the Earth next to him; his gulps of the air as he consumed it rather than breathed it; and, of course, that tell-tale, random yip that had always defined his Lieutenant’s exercised respiration. There was never a pattern, never a physical limitation associated with it – it simply was.
A rabbit darted ahead, at the far side of the clearing. Even in the dark, their enhanced eyesight in wolf form allowed them the ease of seeing clearly in the darkness lit solely by a slivered moon. Gregor felt the change in the air flow between them that signaled Andre’s intent to pull ahead of him. Smiling inwardly, he let a growl escape as he increased his speed as well.
Andre answered, although Gregor could almost hear the laughter in his clan brother’s growl: they both knew that, in the end, Andre would take the lead. Sure, as alpha-heir, Gregor may be stronger, but Andre’s speed was well-known and unmatched. Still, Gregor tore through the tall weeds beside his life-long friend. But, as they were about halfway through the field, Andre bolted hard toward their spotted prey, the mixture of a howl and a snarl escaping his throat.
When they had first arrived at the Big House – as the clan referred to the main house on the three hundred fifty acre Charbonneau Estate – Gregor had been spoiling for a fight. He knew the Estate was the only place they could run in their lupine form, but just being near the place from which he had escaped almost two years ago did nothing but antagonize him. He and his father had grown to odds with one another: his father obsessing over territory, over appearances, whereas his concerns lay with cohesion within the clan.
Too much focus on gaining new lands had, in Gregor’s opinion, begun to erode the ties that had always bound the clan together. He had thought the divisions he felt in his own house – between his father and his mother, his father and the staff, and his father and the lieutenants (although not as noticeable, it was certainly there) – were symptomatic of his mother’s unhappiness. But, as he had taken on more responsibility as heir, he’d begun to notice that his mother was but a smaller representation of a larger infection. Gone were the celebrations of births for the younger couples. Gone were the full moon ceremonies of thanks to the Goddess and all the reverie that had surrounded them.
The week before he’d moved out of the Big House, the first Petition for Release had been filed: a female wishing to be released from the clan to pursue a mate that was not a wolf. Sometime between his memory of the final bear/wolf union when he was a youth and his reaching the age of being privy to clan politics, his father had forbade such unions. There had been rumors of other such Petitions, but none had been brought before the Council – a deficiency which still gave Gregor pause.
A number of issues that should have been brought before the Council – things which he heard through his sources and contacts throughout their ranks – had never materialized there. And then there was the matter of his father’s oldest lieutenants becoming scarce at recent Council meetings. He could still smell their presence at times in the Big House when he would attend meetings or drop by and see his mother when he knew his father wasn’t home. And, most importantly and probably most telling, they had not been replaced.
So, yeah, simply guiding his bike up the long driveway earlier had re-ignited all the unwanted tensions being near his father always sparked. He needed the run and this was the place to do it, but those tensions had been heightened lately with his scheduled nuptials next week – nuptials to which he had been resigned right up until this evening. In fact, Talietha and the first of the Gestault clan entourage would be here in a matter of days.
Days – fuck!
Another snarl tore from him as reality took up a demanding beat in his mind. He shouldered Andre’s flank in frustration, his eyes never leaving the zig-zagging rabbit before them. Andre didn’t answer, only pulled farther ahead.
There would be no team hunting, no signals for assault – the rabbit belonged to whomever caught it. This was not a party prize, this was a trophy trial…a course purely for the run and the blood. Gregor breathed in anticipation of just that: the blood, the kill. It was not often that he allowed his animal side to have the reins, but tonight, they both needed it.
Celeste. He felt his wolf crave her even as it abhorred the chains their position as heir would try to place on them, to keep her from them. Mine.
And, as Andre lunged and snapped the rabbit’s neck, Gregor dove for it, too. The delicate rodent was ripped apart as the massive wolves fought for dominance. But Gregor didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. His frustration coursed through his animal form, and, as the rabbit’s blood ignited his wolf’s rage, he dove at Andre.
The rabbit forgotten, Andre was ready when Gregor’s lunge pushed him backward. He’d felt this coming since before they’d parked their bikes behind the shed. The full weight of Gregor landed against him, and they somersaulted with the forward momentum that remained.
When the rolling slowed, Andre was on top with the advantage, but that was quickly taken away with Gregor’s hind leg strength. It became a battle of the wills: a cuff here, a snap and a bite there, neither letting up in what would appear to be a serious fight between apex predators… massive, deadly predators.
But on one clash, Gregor clearly got the upper hand and pinned his friend – his jaws locked around Andre's neck as the amber eyes of both each burned a fire of their own. Andre relaxed in Gregor’s hold in acquiescence.
At first it seemed as though Gregor would not back off, but Andre never flinched. Gregor’s eyes told him all he needed to know: something more than the usual was riding him this night. Andre allowed a strong though not submissive whine to roll from deep within, the sound snapping Gregor back to his reasoning nature.
Gregor sat up, his shift into human form smooth and flawless. Andre followed, joining his friend in the quiet. Both stared off into darkness of the woods, the silent twinkling of the stars the only movement at the moment. Even the breeze seemed to have calmed as the cool air settled on their bare skins. Here, they were alone. Here, both animal and person could find peace with each other.
The smell of the kill still wafted through the air, both a reminder and a momentary pause in the violent nature that resided inside them both.
“Better?” Andre finally asked after they’d had a few minutes of silence and the insects began to slowly pick up the musical rhythm of the forest again.
Gregor spat and huffed, running his hand over his thick hair and then down his face. He looked at his hand disgustedly before wiping it on the grass between them.
“You know I hate rabbit.”
That was Gregor, totally avoiding the subject that needed addressing. It made Andre laugh knowing that, no matter what it was, here was still his brother in all things but blood.
“But not so much as squirrel.” Andre repeatedly ran both hands through his hair, watching the leaves and grass fall to the ground. He continued stroking until his hair hardly looked mussed. “And here the ‘Andre magic’ couldn’t conjure a deer for you. So sorry, your heirness.”
“Fuck you, Dray.” There was no animosity in the words.
Silence fell between them again as Andre simply waited. Gregor shook his head a few times to dislodge the field debris, the action not doing a good job at all… not that such seemed to bother Gregor in the least. Andre glanced over at him, and, as though the action were second nature, reached up to remove a small twig that was sticking out the side.
Gregor instinctively swatted his hand, but Andre just avoided the swat and reached in at a different angle. Ignoring Gregor’s growls of annoyance and the shaking of his head, Andre pulled the twig and pitched it into the darkness before them.
“You know, Talietha’s fancy-ass won’t put up wi–”
“It’s not happening, Dray.” Gregor pulled his knees up and rested his forearms on them, twitching his fingers as if there were something held there. He took a deep breath and went silent again, his focus either on his finger motions or somewhere off in the darkness.
Andre stilled, his entire body taking in the severity of Gregor’s tone. He ventured another glance over and saw the fierce amber slowly returning to Gregor’s irises. It didn’t happen often, but, when it did, the results were never small or inconsequential.
Then, he felt them: the aggressive waves of an alpha rolling over his skin in detectable variations of warmth. But tonight, there was something off, something different about their ethereal brush over his skin. Tonight, they were more. Tonight, he felt them physically brush the hairs of his arm and then his chest as they rolled over him.
Gregor turned to meet his gaze, and Andre could not contain the breath he caught at the ever-so-slight radiance that seemed to illuminate Gregor’s face near his eyes.
Andre’s eyes widened, though he didn’t back away.
“Gregor.” Andre’s voice was a combination of wonder and challenge, his eyes roaming Gregor’s face as if to discern some great mystery. “What. The. Everlasting. Fu–”
“Her name is Celeste.” Gregor narrowed his eyes at Andre, wondering why his brother was looking at him like he was from Mars or something. He paused, waiting for a reaction of any kind from him. When nothing but the shutting of Andre’s gaping mouth came, Gregor turned away to stare back out into the night. Then he raised his eyes heavenward, as if to invoke the strength of the Goddess that had been all-but driven from his clan by his father.
“And she’s my mate.”
to be continued…
‘Obsessive Tendencies’ is an adult fantasy novel about a reality in which the fantasy realm has somehow been merged with our human one. Celeste is a woodland fairy and Gregor is a werewolf alpha-heir. This is the fifth chapter in their story.
CAST OF CHARACTERS:
Celeste (woodland fairy) – her herd lives in a magical encampment in Gregor’s were-clan domain. They are not associated with werewolves at all.
Joaquim (woodland fairy) – twin brother to Justine, lifelong friend of Celeste.
Justine (woodland fairy) – twin sister to Joaquim, lifelong friend of Celeste.
Gregor (werewolf) – Alpha-heir to the Charbonneau Werewolf Clan, the largest clan in the Southeast United States.
Andre (werewolf) – best friend and trusted lieutenant to Gregor.
Talietha (werewolf) – daughter of the Alpha of the Midwest's Gestault clan and betrothed to Gregor by arrangement.
“A run, Dray.” He tossed the bottle into the sink behind Andre. “Where we can talk, oui?”
Andre nodded his understanding – he knew Gregor didn’t trust that he wasn’t being spied on. Taking a final swig out of his own bottle, he tossed it to join Gregor’s.
“I was gonna se–”
“We’ll be done long before morning,” Gregor interrupted him, locking the door as they exited, “I have somewhere to be at sunrise.”
Knowing that he wouldn’t get an answer now, Andre walked in silent solidarity beside Gregor to their bikes. The ride out to the clan’s sprawling estate outside of town would give them each time to think.
Begin Chapter 5:
As the wind rushed over and through his thick fur, Gregor reveled in the freedom of the run. The crisp air drawn in through his snout only pushed him harder, faster as it pushed forth a snarl simply for the pure enjoyment of the exertion.
Just beyond the muffled roars of the air currents pouring over his flattened ears, he heard Andre: his paws as they pounded the Earth next to him; his gulps of the air as he consumed it rather than breathed it; and, of course, that tell-tale, random yip that had always defined his Lieutenant’s exercised respiration. There was never a pattern, never a physical limitation associated with it – it simply was.
A rabbit darted ahead, at the far side of the clearing. Even in the dark, their enhanced eyesight in wolf form allowed them the ease of seeing clearly in the darkness lit solely by a slivered moon. Gregor felt the change in the air flow between them that signaled Andre’s intent to pull ahead of him. Smiling inwardly, he let a growl escape as he increased his speed as well.
Andre answered, although Gregor could almost hear the laughter in his clan brother’s growl: they both knew that, in the end, Andre would take the lead. Sure, as alpha-heir, Gregor may be stronger, but Andre’s speed was well-known and unmatched. Still, Gregor tore through the tall weeds beside his life-long friend. But, as they were about halfway through the field, Andre bolted hard toward their spotted prey, the mixture of a howl and a snarl escaping his throat.
When they had first arrived at the Big House – as the clan referred to the main house on the three hundred fifty acre Charbonneau Estate – Gregor had been spoiling for a fight. He knew the Estate was the only place they could run in their lupine form, but just being near the place from which he had escaped almost two years ago did nothing but antagonize him. He and his father had grown to odds with one another: his father obsessing over territory, over appearances, whereas his concerns lay with cohesion within the clan.
Too much focus on gaining new lands had, in Gregor’s opinion, begun to erode the ties that had always bound the clan together. He had thought the divisions he felt in his own house – between his father and his mother, his father and the staff, and his father and the lieutenants (although not as noticeable, it was certainly there) – were symptomatic of his mother’s unhappiness. But, as he had taken on more responsibility as heir, he’d begun to notice that his mother was but a smaller representation of a larger infection. Gone were the celebrations of births for the younger couples. Gone were the full moon ceremonies of thanks to the Goddess and all the reverie that had surrounded them.
The week before he’d moved out of the Big House, the first Petition for Release had been filed: a female wishing to be released from the clan to pursue a mate that was not a wolf. Sometime between his memory of the final bear/wolf union when he was a youth and his reaching the age of being privy to clan politics, his father had forbade such unions. There had been rumors of other such Petitions, but none had been brought before the Council – a deficiency which still gave Gregor pause.
A number of issues that should have been brought before the Council – things which he heard through his sources and contacts throughout their ranks – had never materialized there. And then there was the matter of his father’s oldest lieutenants becoming scarce at recent Council meetings. He could still smell their presence at times in the Big House when he would attend meetings or drop by and see his mother when he knew his father wasn’t home. And, most importantly and probably most telling, they had not been replaced.
So, yeah, simply guiding his bike up the long driveway earlier had re-ignited all the unwanted tensions being near his father always sparked. He needed the run and this was the place to do it, but those tensions had been heightened lately with his scheduled nuptials next week – nuptials to which he had been resigned right up until this evening. In fact, Talietha and the first of the Gestault clan entourage would be here in a matter of days.
Days – fuck!
Another snarl tore from him as reality took up a demanding beat in his mind. He shouldered Andre’s flank in frustration, his eyes never leaving the zig-zagging rabbit before them. Andre didn’t answer, only pulled farther ahead.
There would be no team hunting, no signals for assault – the rabbit belonged to whomever caught it. This was not a party prize, this was a trophy trial…a course purely for the run and the blood. Gregor breathed in anticipation of just that: the blood, the kill. It was not often that he allowed his animal side to have the reins, but tonight, they both needed it.
Celeste. He felt his wolf crave her even as it abhorred the chains their position as heir would try to place on them, to keep her from them. Mine.
And, as Andre lunged and snapped the rabbit’s neck, Gregor dove for it, too. The delicate rodent was ripped apart as the massive wolves fought for dominance. But Gregor didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. His frustration coursed through his animal form, and, as the rabbit’s blood ignited his wolf’s rage, he dove at Andre.
The rabbit forgotten, Andre was ready when Gregor’s lunge pushed him backward. He’d felt this coming since before they’d parked their bikes behind the shed. The full weight of Gregor landed against him, and they somersaulted with the forward momentum that remained.
When the rolling slowed, Andre was on top with the advantage, but that was quickly taken away with Gregor’s hind leg strength. It became a battle of the wills: a cuff here, a snap and a bite there, neither letting up in what would appear to be a serious fight between apex predators… massive, deadly predators.
But on one clash, Gregor clearly got the upper hand and pinned his friend – his jaws locked around Andre's neck as the amber eyes of both each burned a fire of their own. Andre relaxed in Gregor’s hold in acquiescence.
At first it seemed as though Gregor would not back off, but Andre never flinched. Gregor’s eyes told him all he needed to know: something more than the usual was riding him this night. Andre allowed a strong though not submissive whine to roll from deep within, the sound snapping Gregor back to his reasoning nature.
Gregor sat up, his shift into human form smooth and flawless. Andre followed, joining his friend in the quiet. Both stared off into darkness of the woods, the silent twinkling of the stars the only movement at the moment. Even the breeze seemed to have calmed as the cool air settled on their bare skins. Here, they were alone. Here, both animal and person could find peace with each other.
The smell of the kill still wafted through the air, both a reminder and a momentary pause in the violent nature that resided inside them both.
“Better?” Andre finally asked after they’d had a few minutes of silence and the insects began to slowly pick up the musical rhythm of the forest again.
Gregor spat and huffed, running his hand over his thick hair and then down his face. He looked at his hand disgustedly before wiping it on the grass between them.
“You know I hate rabbit.”
That was Gregor, totally avoiding the subject that needed addressing. It made Andre laugh knowing that, no matter what it was, here was still his brother in all things but blood.
“But not so much as squirrel.” Andre repeatedly ran both hands through his hair, watching the leaves and grass fall to the ground. He continued stroking until his hair hardly looked mussed. “And here the ‘Andre magic’ couldn’t conjure a deer for you. So sorry, your heirness.”
“Fuck you, Dray.” There was no animosity in the words.
Silence fell between them again as Andre simply waited. Gregor shook his head a few times to dislodge the field debris, the action not doing a good job at all… not that such seemed to bother Gregor in the least. Andre glanced over at him, and, as though the action were second nature, reached up to remove a small twig that was sticking out the side.
Gregor instinctively swatted his hand, but Andre just avoided the swat and reached in at a different angle. Ignoring Gregor’s growls of annoyance and the shaking of his head, Andre pulled the twig and pitched it into the darkness before them.
“You know, Talietha’s fancy-ass won’t put up wi–”
“It’s not happening, Dray.” Gregor pulled his knees up and rested his forearms on them, twitching his fingers as if there were something held there. He took a deep breath and went silent again, his focus either on his finger motions or somewhere off in the darkness.
Andre stilled, his entire body taking in the severity of Gregor’s tone. He ventured another glance over and saw the fierce amber slowly returning to Gregor’s irises. It didn’t happen often, but, when it did, the results were never small or inconsequential.
Then, he felt them: the aggressive waves of an alpha rolling over his skin in detectable variations of warmth. But tonight, there was something off, something different about their ethereal brush over his skin. Tonight, they were more. Tonight, he felt them physically brush the hairs of his arm and then his chest as they rolled over him.
Gregor turned to meet his gaze, and Andre could not contain the breath he caught at the ever-so-slight radiance that seemed to illuminate Gregor’s face near his eyes.
Andre’s eyes widened, though he didn’t back away.
“Gregor.” Andre’s voice was a combination of wonder and challenge, his eyes roaming Gregor’s face as if to discern some great mystery. “What. The. Everlasting. Fu–”
“Her name is Celeste.” Gregor narrowed his eyes at Andre, wondering why his brother was looking at him like he was from Mars or something. He paused, waiting for a reaction of any kind from him. When nothing but the shutting of Andre’s gaping mouth came, Gregor turned away to stare back out into the night. Then he raised his eyes heavenward, as if to invoke the strength of the Goddess that had been all-but driven from his clan by his father.
“And she’s my mate.”
to be continued…
‘Obsessive Tendencies’ is an adult fantasy novel about a reality in which the fantasy realm has somehow been merged with our human one. Celeste is a woodland fairy and Gregor is a werewolf alpha-heir. This is the fifth chapter in their story.
CAST OF CHARACTERS:
Celeste (woodland fairy) – her herd lives in a magical encampment in Gregor’s were-clan domain. They are not associated with werewolves at all.
Joaquim (woodland fairy) – twin brother to Justine, lifelong friend of Celeste.
Justine (woodland fairy) – twin sister to Joaquim, lifelong friend of Celeste.
Gregor (werewolf) – Alpha-heir to the Charbonneau Werewolf Clan, the largest clan in the Southeast United States.
Andre (werewolf) – best friend and trusted lieutenant to Gregor.
Talietha (werewolf) – daughter of the Alpha of the Midwest's Gestault clan and betrothed to Gregor by arrangement.
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Running a few days behind the 'one month' deadline... but close enough for government work (lol!)!! Thank you, as always, for reading me! ;-)
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