howling at the moon

Heath Vasile. Werewolf. Devoted knight.

[wolfmanheath]

thequeengem:

@wolfmanheath

— 3 Months Later — 

“So? What do you think?”

Gemma’s tone was hopeful with piqued excitement as her gaze focused on Leo. His expression was unreadable, one of the few things about him that always frustrated Gem over the years, but his opinion was needed. Desired. As his eyes assessed her warrior at hand during his training. Heath.

After his first full moon with the Cabello’s, the next few steps on Gemma’s list to prepare the wolf of his new life by her side involved a lot of rudimentary activities. One was getting him accustomed to the city. When the vampire initially found the lone wolf, he’d only barely been outside of Queens. The terrain of the Cabello empire stretched farther and wider than that, so he had to quickly learn territory points, borders, and headquarters. Then he had to learn their rules, such as boundaries and curfews. All the while, Gem was trying to fatten him up in the process.

Though a wolf, he might as well have been a pile of sinew and bones when she’d first found him. It only became truly apparent, his struggle to survive, as she noticed his lacking physique upon further inspection. His first turn to be exact. Gemma had stayed with him that night, through every crack and howl. Her eyes couldn’t help but notice how tight his skin formed around his shifting bones. There might have been residual muscle there, by default, but he didn’t hold the figure of an average wolf. Being on the run, living paycheck to paycheck will do that to a person.

Heath spoke very little about his past. And Gemma didn’t push him on it.

Those first few weeks were crucial. He saw very little of Gemma as she allowed him free roam of the tower, but it was just enough freedom to allow their deal to fully sink in. Would he budge? Would he flee? It wasn’t a secret that there was an ongoing bet on how long it’d take Heath to crack. And Gemma— who was the only one to ensure his longevity, was currently winning. Once he was settled with more meat on his bones, his training began. Never with her physically, as her training came from the sidelines. A critique here, a reprimand there. The ones he usually went head to head with were the fledglings. Fledglings— the bottom of the food chain, newly turned vampires who were nothing but footsoldiers to the Cabello siblings. Easily replaceable. At first, Gemma thought they would’ve been bigger competition. Fledglings were notorious for their tempers, earth-shattering emotions, and brutal strength as slivers of their own mundane blood still lingered in their tissues. And maybe on the first few days, the wolf was tired out quickly, as he wasn’t used to the speed or abrupt attacks.

Yet he surprised her—  as he found his own.

The young wolf had realized his assets and used that to his advantage. The built-in animal instinct, retractable claws, and so forth. Gemma remembered the swell of pride she felt as he began ripping through her sired. But it did not last long. Before the wolf could revel in success, he was bumped up to a higher challenge. And ever since he’d been training with warriors closer to the siblings. Those they might station as a bodyguard, send out to do dirty work, and even a few of Leo’s favorites that he enjoyed leveling towns with. Gem could tell they were initial hurdles for the wolf, as they were more than just supernaturally strong. They were tactical, smart, and durable. She thought they’d keep him busy for longer. 

Heath kept surprising her. There was a fire in his eyes, a need to…prove himself, that she’d never noticed before. His own technique continued to elevate beyond her expectations. The tiny queen knew it was only a matter of time before he overpowered his new sparring partners, so Gemma was thinking ahead. Which was why Leo was here. It was his first time witnessing her work and his opinion meant everything to her. As the muscle of their duo, whether she was training him well enough was important. “He’s good, right?”

There was a pregnant pause. “Good…you might as well have given a sword to a lap dog.” Leo tsked.

Gemma huffed as she turned to look at the sparring ring. “Give him a break,” She whispered. Heath was training with a favorite of Leo’s. Older and Italian and a wild streak that only someone like her brother could handle. The two were circling around each other, the vampire named Octavius, barking orders that Gem’s sensitive ears tuned out. Tonight, he had the wolf working with a staff that resembled a sword. An outdated practice that was more about the stealth he’d acquire than actual sword fighting. “It’s his first night weapon’s training.”

Leo only rolled his eyes at that.

“Look,” Gemma sighed. “It’ll only be a few weeks before he matches Octavius. You know there’s barely a handful amount of core vampires stronger than him. Less even willing to train with Heath.” It was hard enough for Gemma to campaign those who’d helped already. Not everyone was lining up to fight someone where one bite could end their existence. “After that, it’s the Private Guard. They can keep him busy but…you know what I want— ”

“And what exactly…is it that you want, sister?”

“You.” She deadpanned. “There’s only so much I can teach him. Savagery and strategy, the swiftness of the hands and mind. But brother, I want him ruthless. Bloodthirsty. And no one does ‘mad king’ better than you.” In the end, all she wanted was for Leo to see her vision. She wasn’t trying to make him a strong wolf. She was trying to make Heath one of them. And maybe that was dangerous, a fine line…immortality wasn’t exactly a rational gift.

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” And though he hadn’t said yes, Gemma could detect amusement in his voice. She knew he was cracking. “Hmph…he’ll need to bulk up before he goes a few rounds with me.”

And that was that. Leo was done with his assessment and it was all Gemma could ask for. Her brother dedicating any amount of time on anyone but himself was practically unheard of. Still, it didn’t stop her from calling out to him sarcastically, “And by that do you mean— in the ring…or—” 

When Leo turned to his sister, she was doing an obscene gesture with her hands. The playful smirk was imminent as he backed up. “Please. Wolf boy isn’t exactly my type.”

“Oh— you have a type?”

Leo flicked her off playfully before turning away. “Get back to me in a year or two. And do me a favor sister— break him in for me.” He called out, before disappearing from view.

With a shake of her head, Gemma turned back to enter the training room. The smell of musk and sweat immediately hit her sensitive nose. Octavius was still yelling out orders, probably more harshly now as Heath’s attention got diverted by Gemma’s sudden presence. The girl smirked at that. “Hey, Octavius?” Her voice rang out. “Why don’t you wrap it up. Take the night off. You’ve earned it.”

The vampire nodded before turning back to Heath, mumbling something about stance improvement. Gemma was too caught up in removing her own sweatshirt and shoes and tying up her hair to focus. Leo told her to break him in. So she’d do just that. Suddenly her sports bra and yoga pants seemed like a great idea for today’s attire.

Octavius had stepped out of the ring once she was done. He’d muttered a ‘goodnight’ to her in passing, a nod was her only returning courtesy. Her attention was solely on the wolf. With her heightened hearing, the sound of his rapid heartbeat was like music to her ears. It was slowing though, the longer he stood and replenished himself with water. Just as he began to step out of the ring, with quickened steps Gemma was in front of him, her hand on his bare chest. A spike in his heart rhythm. “And where do you think you’re going?”

A cocky smile spread across her face. “I think it’s time you go a few rounds with me.”

During the first few weeks with Gemma, Heath tried incredibly hard not to like her. It was stupid and counterintuitive, seeing as the small vampire had saved him from the slums of Queens and ridden him from his shifting issues. But everything felt too good to be true, a fallen angel showing up on his doorstep when he needed her the most, welcoming him into her kingdom with open arms. She had given him a surprising amount of freedom straight away, but the lack of the brunette girl also made him anxious, and a little bored. He was able to explore her tower as freely as he wanted, but after the first few days Heath found that he preferred the comfort of his own room instead. Any thought of her having other werewolves in her group was quickly removed as soon as he saw just how many vampires were under the same roof -- and though none tried starting anything, he could hear their harsh whispers and scoffs at the pup Gemma had found in the dumpster. 

Other than the vampire's talk, Heath was shown no ill hospitality. Hell, the vampires were so dedicated to making sure he ate as much as possible, the wolf half worried they were fattening him up just so they could eat him, Hansel and Gretel style. After spending a month eating scraps in New York, Heath hadn't thought much about how poor he standard of living was when he was in the pack. It wasn't until a few nights spend on a plush mattress with his stomach full and content that he realized how much he had sacrificed during his time with Rosalie. They lived like animals -- more so than the vampires they had always been warned against.

By the time Heath had been told that he was going to begin training, the wolf was more than ready to do something, anything. By then the feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop had subsided, and with not much else to think about that wasn't a ghost from his past, Heath found himself thinking of Gemma. With how little he saw her around she was practically a ghost herself, and despite his best interest, the werewolf found himself wishing to get more face time with her. And training helped -- she was on the sidelines of every session, watching his every move and giving him criticisms. 

He had a better grip on using his strength when he was in wolf form, as it was needed when he was in the pack. Fighting in his human form, however, certainly took some getting used to. But Heath found himself desperate to prove himself to the vampires -- Gemma, mostly, but also her brother and his opponents and any bloodsucker he passed that whispered how much longer they thought he'd stick around. So he filed away every piece of critique and reprimand she and the other vampires gave him, learning how and when to use them to his advantage. 

In a few short months, Heath no longer recognized the person he saw in the mirror, and he found himself grateful for it.

Today's sparring was different, for one little detail; today Gemma was accompanied by her brother Leo, the second half to the vampire empire in New York. There had been very few times Heath had to deal with the other Cabello, and he was completely fine by it -- in fact, he worked hard to make sure their meetings were few and far between. Despite his growing trust towards Gemma, Leo was somebody he was sure would rip his heart out without a second glance, trust be damned. It was also obvious he wasn't a fan of having the werewolf among them.

But it wasn't until Heath heard a whisper of his name from Gemma that they began to distract him. That second was all Octavius needed to thrust his sword out towards the wolf, just missing him by a hair. "Focus," the vampire barked at him, and Heath, not wanting to be reprimanded by his observers, quickly lunged. It was his first day fighting with a sword, and it didn't take long for his confidence of agility and grace to quickly wash away. Why they still used swords to begin with was a whole different story, but leave it to vampires to take an inconvenient, archaic weapon and make it a priority.

Octavius and Heath sparred together uninterrupted for a few more minutes, until the wolf caught a scent that had his attention once again distracted. He barely heard what notes Octavius gave him before departing, instead nodding as if he were listening, his eyes darting over to the brunette occasionally as she undressed. Christ.

As soon as the vampire was gone Heath set down his sword, happy to be rid of that thing for the evening. He gulped down as much water as he could, deciding to ignore the presence of the vampire queen, until she said what she needed to. When she didn't, Heath headed towards the exit, ready to shower off his day's work. The hand on his chest stopped him dead in his tracks.

Craning his neck down to get a better look at her better, the werewolf pursed his lips as he took in the sight of her. It was impossible not to notice that this was probably the most skin of hers he had ever seen, and for fuck's sake, he had to look away before his body betrayed him. Already he knew she must be able to read his heartbeat, an impossible disadvantage against vampires that he would never be able to get rid of. 

His eyebrows raised quickly when she offered to be his next partner. "Don't you have people to fight for you?" he asked slowly, unable to believe that she knew very much about combat. Leo, for sure, but Gemma seemed to be one that used her mind as a weapon, and everyone else as a pawn. 

Still, he wasn't going to pass this opportunity up. "No more swords though, please," Heath added, knowing he should move away from her to get into position, but was unable to do so. Not when she was still touching him. 

[wolfmanheath]

thequeengem:

It was only a matter of time.

The wolf was no different than Gemma’s past conquests. Usually they baffled, they bent, and eventually, they broke. The wolf’s case, though particular, remained the same. He was a boy alone in a world where if someone weren’t already out to get him, then they would be soon. She knew the allure of a home and a happy place would cause him to cave eventually. He just needed a harsher tug to relinquish power over his soul.

And so he did.

Gemma would make sure he’d make it through the night. In fact, preparations had been underway the moment she’d come across his scent. The basement of their building, the seat of their power, had been reconstructed to house a wolf in his worst state. Reinforced steel, thick concrete, and a lifetime supply of silver loitered the place to make sure nothing escaped– not even sound. It’d be his home for the night and every full moon onward. And Gemma would stay with him every second of the process.

Maybe it’s survivor’s remorse. Maybe it’s some sick interest in witnessing a werewolf’s transition. Maybe, maybe, maybe…but Gemma made sure the werewolf inspired panic room would keep him contained while she could look on through impermeable glass. It was a long list of “why’s” that she’d never be able to answer truthfully because in the end…she just didn’t want him to be alone.

Not as his most vulnerable.

“We have a deal,” she spoke in a triumphant tone. Her hand stretched out to grab his in a finalizing handshake. “Gemma. Gemma Cabello. And yours, wolf?” Exchanging pleasantries had never been her forte but it was the least she could do, after signing his life over and all. 

“You should grab whatever’s important so we can leave. I’ll replace anything that isn’t. Be quick about it, I want to get to the pet store before they close so we can get you a collar with your name engraved on it.” Gemma flashed him a subtle smirk before grabbing her crossbody to leave. Though she was joking, now the idea of getting him one with ‘property of Gemma Cabello’ printed on the back of it sounded like a good Christmas present. She’d put that in her ‘save for later’ pile. “I kid. Sort of.”

This deal was for their benefit, Heath reminded himself, especially his. He was in over his head, he had no idea what he would be doing for the full moon, and really, what other options did he have? Still, the werewolf had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when she finalized the deal aloud.

"Heath," he said shortly, shaking her hand long enough for it to move up and down once, before pulling away. From the way Rosalie had talked about vampires, Heath expected his skin to crawl from the mere touch of one. Instead, he still found himself annoyingly attracted to the woman. That was something that was going to have to change, if he was to wait on her hand and foot.

It was almost amusing how she told him to grab whatever was important to him, as if implying he had assets to begin with. His studio apartment was basically empty -- the dirty couch and mattress on the ground were the only real pieces of furniture he had, both left behind by whoever the last tenant had been. The only stuff he had really bought for himself was food and some clothes from the Salvation Army. He had splurged and got himself a burner phone, but that was only after the werewolf realized his job would need a way to contact him. Heath hadn't owned material possessions since he lived at home with his family -- it had been weird at first, when he lived in the middle of nowhere with the rest of the pack, but now he was just used to it. Even if he had wanted to change things -- which he did want, eventually -- it had only been three and a half weeks since Heath left the pack. On his own, he was dirt poor.

"We can just go," he told her, deciding to ignore the collar comment. Reaching into his pocket, Heath pulled out his cell phone. He paused for a moment, wondering if he should bring it or not. But for what, for work to call him and wonder why he bailed? He had a feeling when working for the vampire, he would have no need or no time for another gig. Not that he was particularly sad to see it go. Without another thought, he tossed it on the kitchen island. Wouldn’t be needing that, it seemed.

He was going to take advantage of her comment about replacing all his stuff, starting with a decent phone... even if he did have nobody to call. No, better fitting clothes would be the first priority. After the full moon --- Heath could hardly see past the full moon yet.

[wolfmanheath]

thequeengem:

Gemma had spoken from her heart. Or rather what remained of it.

Laid bare for the wolf to dissect through and through, there was no part of her that didn’t think she had him hook, line, and sinker. In the past, she had formed less impressive speeches, strung together words that weren’t half as convincing as she had for the wolf just to wind up getting what she had so greatly desired in the end. So when the young boy opened his mouth Gem knew, she knew, his following words were ones of defeat. He was hers.

But then he kept talking. And talking. And talking.

It took her a moment. A shaking of her head. The widening of her eyes. The refocusing of the moment only to realize that…he was negotiating. This damn oversized furball had the nerve to negotiate with her. The clenching of her jaw was a sign that Gem could be moments away from having him up against the wall, clawing at the hand encompassing his throat, gasping for his last few breaths of life. Immortality instilled little temper tantrums like that. And yet, she’d willed her eyes to close, her body to take a few breaths. Patience.

It was never her forte but it had to be now. Giving up after making it this far was not an option. It couldn’t be. Gemma would never admit it to him, but she was desperate. The exposure of supers had turned New York for the worst. It was only a matter of time before the empire she’d spent decades building would begin to topple over. If she didn’t reignite some form of hope ( while also instilling some fear ) then who knew what would become of her and Leo. Who knew what would become of their throne.

“You must be ballsy, wolf.” She seethed through clenched teeth. It was both a concession and a warning as she matched his stare. “I already stated that I wouldn’t dare touch you. And if you make sure to never commit a treason against me worthy of a death sentence, then I promise you’ll be able to terminate your service with your head and heart intact.” A small smirk made its way to her face at the double meaning. Just because they couldn’t kill him doesn’t mean they couldn’t make him hurt. Their empire was like the mafia, you don’t get to leave without losing some part of you in the process. Even if that part of you wounds up chopped into fine pieces and force fed down your throat.

“As for the compulsion,” A mild eye roll was thrown in for emphasis on the vampires part. “It’s not really my cup of tea. If I wanted to come in here just to compel your loyalty I could have. And yet, did I? No…I crave true loyalty, wolf. The choice to be by my side is yours and yours alone. It has been from the start.” It was true about her dislike towards compulsion. While a gift that came in handy, it proved to make almost every situation too easy. Gemma was a girl who liked the thrill, the gamble that just once something might not go her way. Maybe that’s why she was growing to enjoy tempting the wolf in front of her. He was a challenge. A thrill. He embodied the empire she wanted; one of loyalty and love so ingrained that it beat within every pump of her undying heart. “I’ll even have one of my witches conjure up an anti-compulsion ring. Like our daylight rings,” Gemma held up her right hand to show the lapis lazuli ring nestled on her middle finger. “And how they protect us from the sun, the ring would keep your mind protected from people like me. So you’ll always know your mind is your own. Free of charge.”

“Now the killing part…” Gemma reached to remove a piece of invisible lint off of the boys’ v-neck. “I can’t necessarily agree. You might not be a killer now, but you will be. With time. You won’t be ending lives for, what is it you said…‘small disagreements’? Oh no, that’s what Leo is for. He’s the one I send when I want a town to lay in ruin, drenched in blood, just to leave an impact. No, you wolf, you will be my Executioner. And you will kill when I tell you to kill, because whomever I tell you to kill is a threat against me, thus a threat against you. I will be yours. Your Queen to claim. What do you think will happen to you if something were to happen to me? Enemies would gladly rip you to shreds for fun so, again when I tell you to kill: you will kill. And you will be good at it. Great even.” A smile of a true born predator turned angelic features to the true sadistic nature that lay resting beneath the facade. “Hell, you might even grow to enjoy it. I know I did.”

“Now, those are my terms. Take them or leave them, wolf. And I suggest you make a decision soon…” A quick glance at the clock confirmed her thoughts. “You’re running out of time.”

He had caught her off guard, that much was obvious. What, did the vampire girl really expect him to start kissing her feet right off the bat? Heath was done getting roped into being a lackey without reading the fine print at the bottom. Rosalie hadn’t given him that opportunity to think about his decision -- the bite was about as final as it gets, until he managed to escape by the smallest of chances. Was he really okay with compromising his freedom once more, just for some so called “safety,” and blind belief that the little vampire was telling the truth?

Had the situation been different, perhaps Heath would’ve been worried about pushing her buttons, going past the boundaries she was comfortable with. She was a vampire, after all -- perhaps the only other creature who could really do damage to a wolf, at least according to Rosalie. But he wasn’t worried. The fact that she didn’t attack right away and instead gave him a chance to willingly decide what to do proved that she was a little more desperate than she let on. There had to be a plan behind the idea of getting a werewolf bodyguard, one that likely had something to do with dethroning that brother of hers. Heath didn’t want to know any of it, truthfully, so long as it didn’t interfere with what he asked of her.

And he didn’t think it was asking very much, honestly. His demands were the bare minimum, wanting to make sure he could save his own skin if he realized he was making the wrong choice. Heath had already decided to go with her, honestly, because what other choice did he have? He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and when the rock looked like she did and the hard place meant saying no to a vampire, the choice seemed pretty self-explanatory. Heath was buying himself time, letting the idea of being the white knight she so clearly needed settle in. 

Being with her meant no longer having to hide from Rosalie, for one thing. Any chance of the alpha coming to look for him would end as soon as she stepped onto the vampire’s property. He’d have security, perhaps just as much as he would give the vampire. 

The little smirk that crossed the brunette’s face did not go unnoticed, and Heath realized asking for a safe way out if things got complicated was futile. In the world of the supernatural, safety was a luxury. It was why he had escaped the pack’s home in the early morning, before anyone else could awaken. Escaping a vampire gang that claimed the whole city of New York as their territory would be a lot harder, but if it came to that, Heath was sure he could make it work.

Anti-compulsion ring? Daylight ring? This was the first Heath had heard about anything related to it. Witches were never something Rosalie had spoken about, which he assumed was because of lack of information about them. But the idea of it floored Heath -- what else could witches do? Were there rings that made him no longer have to shift every full moon? Ones that made them impervious to an alpha’s command? For perhaps the first time, Heath realized that joining with this vampire meant learning more about the supernatural world that he knew very little about. When he was a boy he had been fascinated by it all, wanting to know as much about all the creatures people whispered about as he could. But when he became a werewolf it was no longer a concern to him, the lifestyle of the pack and shifts of the full moon taking on his obsession. Now the thought of getting to meet other supers, ones completely unlike him, was actually rather... exciting. And as someone so close to the queen, he wouldn’t have to worry about his safety with those creatures, either. He’d be untouchable.

It was the killing part that made him the most wary, though. Who could blame him? Heath wasn’t a born killer, nor did he really wish ill on anyone. Hell, he had never even gotten into a fight before. This vampire had the wrong werewolf picked out, it seemed. He would never grow to enjoy being an executioner, and his body wanted to recoil at the sinister smile she gave him. But the werewolf stood his ground, his face impassive.

Because again, what choice did he have? 

Against better judgment, Heath’s gaze followed her to the clock. Shit. She was right, there wasn’t much time left. “If you can get me through the night without killing anyone or exposing myself, fine,” he sighed, looking back at her. His eyes narrowed a bit, realizing something. “What’s your name, anyway?”

[wolfmanheath]

thequeengem:

“What do I want?” Her star-gazed eyes glazed over at the thought. “I want a world that bows at my feet.”

Gemma paced back, before finding herself up against a table, which she smoothly slid up on. “Let me tell you something, wolf,” she started, legs crossed and mind elsewhere. “I did not attain my empire easily. And as much as I hate to admit it, I wouldn’t have made it this far without my brother.”

“So you see, we live in a world where women are not taken seriously. Whether the mundane or the preternatural–– it is always a challenge. Now take that and apply it to me: a nearly two-hundred-year-old immortal forever stuck in the body of a teenage girl. The list of supers willing to follow me alone is very, very short.”

“The rallying of vampires far and wide, welcoming cubi both friend and foe. Sanctioning witches, banning wolves, and offering sanctuary for the neutral between was all me. And yet, I have to attribute half of that to a man who could probably care less as long as there’s bloodshed along the way…just to be taken seriously.” Gemma’s eyes shifted downward, a wayward sigh passing through dry lips. “I love my brother. He’s of my flesh and blood. But an empire in New York or a backward’s bar in the bayou, he would not care. I love his willingness to follow me anywhere, but for me, it is also frustrating…I work hard, for us to rule above all. And in the end, I am just a Queen to his superior King.”

Her eyes turned upwards, a newly burning fire within their depths as they locked on his. “I want loyalty. Undying and unbowed, true loyalty. Not something tempted by lust or longing. My brother is my blood but blood can be tainted. I want more:

“And that’s where you come in. With you by my side and together we can be unstoppable. I will no longer be an inferior Queen unless there is a heart clenched in my hands and fury in my eyes. Now, I would be considered the vampire who sullied a wolf as her right-hand soldier–– I would be feared and loved all the same.”

“Can you imagine,” she leaned back as girlish delight toned her words. “The initial horror of it all. Vampires and werewolves have hated one another since the primordial days. Who knows what over–– probably a woman, all the good wars are over a woman.” Her eyes rolled at the thought, such childish reasons. “It grew so deep that our hatred nestled into our bones and was passed from host to host. To think this whole time we could’ve been allies, fighting in the grand war…”

Her voice trailed as she pictured her future, with this wolf by her side. Toned and trained and utterly hers. By choice. Gemma couldn’t fully voice her inner, century developed insecurity of Leo staying with her by obligation rather than free will. But it haunted her day by day. She now understood how immortality could eat at someone’s psyche. Maybe she was overreacting––  and yet here she was, a moth to a flame, giving into a wrathful desire. “I can give you, anything you’ve ever dreamed of, wolf.”

“Shelter, protection…a home. Tonight and every night onward for eternity. In return, I’ll train you. I’ll introduce you to arts and literature and politics. I’ll teach you to be strong, to fight, and to hone in on your senses when needed. I’ll educate you about the world, both Old, and New. And in the end, I’ll make it so your most finely used weapon of all will always be your tongue. All you need to do is say yes.”

“Side by side we’ll rule. We’ll have the heavens raining blood and the seas trembling with holy water tears. Vampires will bow, witches will serve, and every wolf that symbolizes the pack that, for whatever reason, made you think a life of isolation was better than a family, will forever whimper and whine at your feet for m e r c y. I will never be second-guessed again. I will be seen as the vampire who bridged an existence of hatred and molded it into a fearful weapon. And you…you will be that weapon. My weapon, my soldier and dutiful knight. Mines. All you have to do is say yes…”

“…and if you do, we’ll seal it with a kiss.” Dark humor laced her tone as her natural beauty shone through like any other time she spoke of wrath and world domination. “And if you don’t, well–– to show that my offer is serious, about you, about keeping you safe, then I’ll leave. I’ll walk right out that door and never turn back. But you’ll be alone and without shelter, in a world where everyone either hates you or fears you. Take it from someone who knows what it’s like to be different wolf: being alone is a wound only bound to fester. We always need someone. Someone you can trust. And these are dangerous times for our kind. It’s best to take care of yourself…you have your options. Which will you choose?”

Well she was certainly a vampire who liked monologues.

But unlike how the last one had been full of filler words that meant nothing to him, this time Heath listened. Though she only offered up bits and pieces of information about her life -- her brother in particular stood out, and Heath was very glad did not join her on the werewolf hunt -- the werewolf drank them in, his mind whirling to both hear and comprehend it all.

It brought with him a million questions, none that he shared with her, seeing as she was on a roll. But they still spun around in his head... and though the tidbit on werewolves being banned was a big one, the one that kept orbiting back was the fact that she was over two hundred years old. Obviously Heath knew vampires were immortal beings, but the idea of a teenage girl (albeit one who held herself and crafted monologues like she had been doing for centuries, which she had) being so old was startling. It was vain, but in a way Heath could understand why gathering enough supers to fall into line for her would be difficult.

Then again, those people had never heard the girl speak. Either this was a plan the girl had had for quite some time now, and had rehearsed this speech until there was a wolf stupid enough to make themselves vulnerable on her territory, or she was a speaker that could rival Caesar. It was likely both.

Power. To her, Heath was power. The entire idea of it made him nervous, purely because of his last experience with power tripping females. But there was something about the way the vampire spoke... the transparency in her words, all her cards (seemingly) showing on the table. The deal sounded simple enough; he would be the guard dog as she worked to rise to her own power, and in return she would make sure he was good for this full moon and many more to come. But though her words seemed very black and white, Heath knew there were shades of grey to them -- there always were. Did she expect him to kill for her, simply because someone didn't want to listen to her? How far would his loyalty to her have to go? She spoke as if the two would be equals, side-by-side, but Heath knew enough about her type to know better. Mine, she had just said. He would be hers. The last thing he wanted to be was someone's property once more.

However, there were shades of grey. As dangerous as making a deal with a vampire was, it was the best option the werewolf had for him at the moment. Even if he managed to get out of the city before the full moon tonight... what about the next one, or the next? She had him backed against a corner, with a deal that was too good to pass up. And even if he did, perhaps she wouldn't be as okay with it as she let on.

Her last words still resonated in the air, speaking of trust and the dangers in being alone. That was the hardest part Heath was trying to wrap around his head, in truth. Silence clung in the air for less than a minute, but it felt like a lifetime had passed by the time he spoke up.

"I have some conditions," he said stiffly, his chiseled jaw still clenched. "Seeing as I know nothing about you other than your words, forgive me if I'm not ready to completely pledge my loyalty right away. I... Should I work with you, and find that it is in my best interest to leave, I want to be assured that I'll be able to do so without anyone ripping my heart out."

While they were on the subject of free will... "And I was told that... you people have... abilities that can make you, uh, make people do things." Like Rosalie had over him, with her as his alpha. "I don't know if that's true or not, but I don't want anyone messing with my head and making me do shit I don't want to do." Swallowing hard, he slowly added, "And I'm not a killer, either. I'm not ending any lives because of small disagreements."

Hesitantly Heath took a few steps closer to her, just far enough for her knees to not brush against his body. He made sure to look the Angel of Death right in the eye as he said his last bit. "Those are my demands, you can take them or leave them." It was a gamble, negotiating with a vampire -- especially when they both knew how vulnerable he was right now -- but he was a wolf, not a dog; he wasn't going to just roll over at the first person to give him options.

[wolfmanheath]

thequeengem:

The wolf’s answering growl was like music to her ears. Any vampire with common sense and relatively sensitive testicles would think twice about igniting the temper of a young wolf. But not Gemma. The girl could credit it to her many decades of experience or the convincing nature of her tongue, but mostly––  mostly, it was the thrill. And Gem’s answering smirk could only show just how much she loved a thrill.

“Oh calm it, Cujo,” her voice a taunting command. “You’re not the only one here with a lethal bite.”

At the thought, her gums began to ache as her fangs demanded their presence be known. The vampire within her was coming out to play. Just as humans had survival instincts, so did the immortals. Usually, Gemma was able to resist, to hold back and maneuver herself out of hostile situations byways of manipulation. Leo was the maniacal Cabello, the one ready to rip off heads and hearts whenever someone had dared to even glance at him wrong. But in times like this, when her dead heart began to spike and warning bells began to sound in her head, even the most reserved vampire had hard times of ignoring what their basic instincts demanded.

Every inch of her rotting soul wanted to show the pup the true monster within. The elongated double fangs that extended from either side of her upper jaw ( the canines and first bicuspid transforming themselves into sharpened weapons on both sides broke that irritating stereotype of vampires only having two fangs–– they always had four ), the darkening of her irises until her whole eye was as sable and empty as a black hole, and the deep, protruding veins that spread from her temples down to her cheeks. It was truly a sight for sore eyes. But if Gemma wanted to walk out of this apartment––  with a live wolf, he’d need to feel secure. To feel unthreatened. Trusted.

It definitely took the fun out of the whole situation.

So, with every ounce of dwindling self-restraint the girl had within her, she pushed that hidden monster down and down, deeper and deeper until she knew she had control over her actions again. Her thoughts were her own, her emotions, on the other hand, were questionable. But it was the best she could do in this game of cat and mouse. The wolf was smart. He had to have known who was really top dog here. If not, well…Gemma had no problem releasing what rumbled inside.

“What do I want?…I want a lot of things,” Gemma mused, eyes trailing back to the window once more. “I want for people to stop coming to the theater only to talk and be on their phones the whole time. I want for someone in this god-forsaken world to figure out how to reheat french fries–– I mean, c’mon, if we’re meant to have Jetson level technology in a few short decades then someone’s got to start popping out something that’s relatively impressive. I want, Taylor Swift to just croak already. The woman’s in her thirties and still miserable, maybe she’s just better off six-feet under. I want for whoever came up with kiddie leashes to fulfill their destiny and come up with kiddie muzzles; save us all from the ongoing plague that is children. I want…should I continue or just skip to the end?” 

There was a pregnant pause before she turned to look at the defensive wolf nearly halfway across the room. “Because most of all: I want you.” The slow, sauntering steps were in sync with the beat of her speech. “I’ve wanted you since I came across your scent in Central Park three weeks ago. Be happy it was me by the way, any of my vampires would’ve hunted you down and ripped out your spleen for sport. Ten years ago I might’ve let them…but not now, not after everything that’s happening with our kind.”

Gemma’s steps stopped short of a couple feet in front of the wolf. “The way I see it pup: you need me. Less than five hours until the full moon reaches its peak, even if you do make it out of the city in time, who’s to say you’ll be able to stop yourself from hurting someone? Tonight or the next month and so on. You seem smart, resourceful, but even you know that one sighting––  maybe even strange sounds like…industrial chains being drilled into hardwood, might set someone off. Next thing you know, you have government officials or human radicals on your doorstep. And in this day and age, I honestly cannot say which is more frightening.”

“That being said, I’m willing to offer you a deal. One that you probably don’t deserve after trespassing on my territory for so long, but I’ll let bygones be bygones. That is–– 

––  if you give me what I want.”

Standing completely still was the only way for Heath not to let the chink in his armor show; he refused to let the vampire see how nervous and terrified she made him. Could she hear how quickly his heart was beating, or feel the terror practically radiating off of him? For Heath it was too hard to tell, knowing virtually nothing about vampires other than the fact that they were known as vicious and bloodthirsty creatures. But this girl did not appear to be bloodthirsty -- no, if anything, she was enjoying herself a little too much. It was like the two were playing a game of chess that Heath was only just aware of now, and she knew just how well she was winning.

So small and still damp from the rain, Heath still had a hard time really wrapping his head around the fact that she was a monster. Other than the pure authority in her voice, she could be any old teenager off the street, if any old teenager was devastatingly beautiful. The sight of her triggered a memory of Rosalie, when he had first come across her in the woods, after months of seeing the "Lost Girl" signs for her posted everywhere. She had always been cute in school, but in the woods she had been absolutely enchanting, enough to lead a human boy into such a trap. But had she have asked him to willingly change for her, he probably would have.

After being brainwashed by an alpha female who was skillful with weaving words the way she wanted them, Heath had developed a hatred for filler words and slowly stalling. He was a don't-beat-around-the-bush kind of guy. But the only response to her rhetoric question about getting to the point was a slight bristle from him, shifting in his stance a bit, though still on high alert.

As the vampire neared him, Heath could feel her scent getting stronger, but slowly... well, it began not to bother him. It was a peculiar smell yes, but it wasn't as horrible as he would've believed it to be. Just different, from both human and werewolf scent, almost like an in between. But the scent matched with the slow, hip-swaying movements of the brunette nearing him made him all the more captivated, his body and animal instinct betraying him. He was a teenage boy, after all -- seeing someone that looked like that talk about wanting him made his mouth bone-dry, and though he was still on high alert... well, it made the exchange feel a little less life-or-death like.

That also could have had to do with the fact that Heath knew that if she wanted to kill him, she would've done so already.

When the young woman stopped in front of him, mere feet separating them, the young wolf had to practically hold his breath to ignore the scent radiating off of her, now entirely distracting. After being manipulated before by a pretty girl with pretty words, Heath hated to admit it, but he knew the vampire had a point -- she had him practically cornered, a corner he had put himself in by coming to New York in the first place. Of all the places for a wolf, New York should not have been one of them. But it was too late now, just as there seemed to be only one correct answer to her deal.

Still, Heath couldn't fully wrap his head around it all. For one thing the vampire spoke as if she owned the town, calling the entirety of New York her territory (which was actually almost comical, as Heath couldn't imagine anyone strong enough to own an entire city, much less this girl who he had practically a whole foot on) and claiming other vampires as her possession. He could've asked about that, but really only one question deemed important enough for him to speak.

"And what is it you want?" Other than him, which she had made painstakingly and abundantly clear.

[wolfmanheath]

thequeengem:

Gemma was the thunderstorm. The lightning her viper strike, the resounding crash her lion’s roar. Every moment it spurred and intensified, the more the wind claimed destruction along with every crack and boom, the more the beautiful resolve across her girlish face slipped. Something crawled through those sea-colored eyes the second light was snuffed from the apartment. For a quick moment, all those decades of rotting malevolence and ill intentions flashed in her hues and were on display for the world to see. Only a moment; a lightning’s second.

In it, the wolf saw he wasn’t the only one with a bite worse than their bark. What could Gemma say? She was theatrical.

Then the darkness crept in again — and her mortal facade was center stage. An eyebrow rose at his increasingly erratic behavior. The shifty eyes and fidgeting fingers, even the slight sweat above his brow indicated something suspicious. If Gemma wasn’t a step ahead of him, she would’ve thought he was a guilty convict off the grid…or just really strung up. That would need to be fixed later on, the wolf would have to learn to control his nerves if he were to serve by her side. “Yeah— I knocked on a few doors on the second floor. No one was home.” She lied convincingly. Gem had to, considering the family he was talking about was home. And they were helpful to her cause. So helpful that all of them, including the little infant brat who wouldn’t shut the hell up, now provided gracious sustenance which now flowed through her veins. “What’s the rush? It’s storming, you really going to leave during a blackout?” She asked boldly, but curiously, as her footsteps matched his. “Let me guess— you have some S & M Con to go to? I heard industrial chains are hot among that particular group.” Gemma paused before turning her back to him. “I happen to like rope myself but..different strokes, different folks.”

The gloves were off. Though Gemma hadn’t blatantly scrapped her character, she could tell every moment passed in this apartment the more her true self-began to shine. It wasn’t her fault she loved the attention, the thrill of almost being caught. Maybe if her brother had paid more mind to her rather than his flavor of the week she wouldn’t feel the need to play with her food. Before devouring them.

“Hmm, a gentleman in both generosity and hospitality, such great attributes to have. Noted.” she hummed to herself, as she approached the large windows. Though in need of a clean desperately, her eyes were still able to be engulfed by the storm clouds. “I’m not really hungry.” The young girl turned back to him, now leaning against the window for support. “Thirsty that is…I’m always thirsty. But,” she sighed in a dramatic fashion. “Unless you’re a major hematomaniac psycho who has a secret stash of blood hidden under your impressive amount of silverware— which is poorly hidden by the way, then you can’t help me.”

“Of course—” she started, a slow smirk starting to make its way upon her heart-shaped lips. “You could always slice open an artery or two. I’ve always liked my meals hot and fresh as opposed to…reheated leftovers.” The girl took a moment to shudder at the thought. “Nevertheless, I’m getting ahead of myself. You know my name, yet I do not know yours…I will need it if we are going to continue on with our game little wolf.”

Heath glanced up at the girl through his lashes as she took a few steps closer to him, keeping whatever space he had tried to make between them small. With her so close, it was hard to ignore her particular smell, one he was so unfamiliar with that his nose scrunched up for a moment as a knee-jerk reaction. He opened his mouth to answer her borderline rude question, but as soon as she mentioned the chains, his gaping mouth was closed in an instant. If it weren’t for the fact that she had somehow miraculously spied his laundry-covered floor chains, Heath would’ve been just as perplexed at the sound of a teenage girl talking about S&M. But right now it was talk of the chains that made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck.

It took a moment for his brain to work his way to his mouth, and by then she had begun to walk around his open studio, the sound of the heels of her boots more prominent than the heavy rain falling outside. “I, um... You should probably go--” Just as Heath went to turn to the door, the brunette began up once more, and it was hard not to notice the tone of her voice changing. The wolf’s heartbeat picked up, and he could feel his adrenaline beginning to flare, that fight-or-flight feeling that made him holding back a shift all that more difficult. 

The girl may look like an angel, but Heath was fairly sure he had invited something wicked into his home. 

I’m always thirsty. Heath was only half processing her words, finding the sound of his pounding heart in his ears combining with the physical restraint to sprouts claws a little distracting, but there was no missing that. How had he been so stupid? While he had never exactly met a vampire before, he wasn’t an idiot -- Heath knew they existed, just as much as he knew they were very dangerous. Vampires hated werewolves, according to Rosalie; they were natural born enemies. 

Is that why she was here, to attack a lone wolf at his most vulnerable moment? If so, it wasn’t very wise. Though Heath had tried hard not to turn while in the city -- in his apartment building, no less -- all it would take is for him to let go of his self-control to attack. Vampires were dangerous, but if Rosalie had been telling the truth, all it took was one bite from a werewolf to kill them. Heath was no killer, but he was a survivor. He had to be.

“I’m not really into games,” he finally spoke, his voice coming out as a low growl. His human and wolf self was beginning to collide, her bringing out the beast in him. “What do you want?”

[burningmaddoxrpg]

Heath was only nine when supernaturals were revealed to the country, but he remembers the moment vividly. The news shook his own small town, and although they were in New York instead of Pennsylvania, he remembered his mother and her friends talking about it as if it happened in their backyard. That could’ve been us. The world was shaken by the news, causing both humans and supers alike to lash out in unexpected ways. Heath remembered hearing about the protests that were livestreamed in Maddox, and hearing about protests going on only an hour away from him, in New York City. His mother made it clear if she ignored the issue it wouldn’t be real – turning the television off whenever news came on about it – but Heath was obsessed. He followed the news stories for years. He didn’t always understand what was going on, but it was the idea that there was something greater beyond humans on this Earth that really shook him. If vampires and werewolves could exist, why not aliens? And did that discredit what he was taught at Sunday School or not? With the only news of supers being tucked away on the television or internet, it felt completely surreal to him. With nothing else to do in Heath’s small town but to roam the woods and plan his escape, the idea of something bigger than him out there felt pretty good. Around the time he got into high school, whispers were arising of talk that there was a super among the town, finding patterns of events happening that had once occurred in Maddox. Destruction of property, animal sightings, and then a child went missing, a teenage girl only a few years older than Heath. Townies were blindly pointing fingers at their neighbors, accusing them of being monsters for such trivial reasons. Mrs. Groves didn’t attend book club, which is so unlike her, so something must have happened to her. Mr. Parker had never been a good neighbor, I knew there was always something wrong with him. Round and around the accusations would go, but never did they get anywhere. Instead the number of missing teenagers rose, and Heath’s town went into a spiral of depression. It was the first time Heath realized maybe supers weren’t as great as he once thought, and that something bigger than him also meant something dangerous. Heath was walking back from his friend’s house late one night when he saw something that made him stop dead in his tracks. It was Rosalie Carter, the first missing teenager, alive and without a scratch. Her back was turned to him, but he knew it was her, and within seconds she disappeared into the forest surrounding the neighborhood. Without a second thought Heath followed her, heart thrumming wildly in his chest, wondering if he had stumbled upon the solution to the mystery of where the kids had disappeared.  After walking for what felt like forever, Heath noticed a cabin just beyond where Rosalie walked. Before Heath could turn around and alert the police, the blonde haired girl turned around and smiled directly at him, sending a chill down his spine. Within seconds he was surrounded by all the missing children in his town, and Heath knew he was the next of them to go. That night they turned him into a werewolf, one of the creatures Heath had read so much about while unaware that a pack was right under his nose. Rosalie was building her own pack out of teenagers in town, whether they wanted to become one or not – she never gave them a choice. Heath wasn’t given the choice either, but looking back on it, he couldn’t imagine anything else. Before he became a werewolf he was nothing more than a small town boy destined to become a small town man; now he could do whatever he wanted, as being a super was as much powerful as it was feared. Rosalie had made him join her pack, threatening to kill his loved ones if he did not submit. And as his alpha she was impossible to disobey, making him nothing more than another slave to her beck and call.

Being a part of Rosalie’s pack was helpful…until it wasn’t. The alpha helped Heath and the others learn about what it meant to be a werewolf – how to shift, what happened during the full moon, how to apply their abilities to their human form. Rosalie was nuts, but she was a great teacher, and Heath couldn’t help but admire her for it. The power that radiated off of her was undeniable, and Heath felt drawn to her, a bond forming between the two. Whether the feelings were really Heath’s, or if she convinced him to believe them, is something Heath still thinks about to this day. The two teenagers became romantically linked and Heath became the alpha’s mate without even realizing it. It wasn’t until Heath found out he wasn’t Rosalie’s only mate that he truly began to reevaluate his choices. He knew if he wanted to fully taste the freedom of being a werewolf, he couldn’t stay in the pack. So early one morning before anyone was awake Heath crept out of the pack’s cabin, running as far as he could until he was certain no one was on his trail. Then he got on the first bus he could find, which turned out to be heading to the Big Apple. After living nearly two years alone in the woods with nobody else but his pack, Heath had a hard time adjusting to the real world – especially when city life was astronomically different than his hometown. But he fit in well there, happy to be one of millions, knowing the chance of getting found by his pack or exposed as a werewolf was unlikely. It wasn’t until his first full moon in New York when he realized he hadn’t figured out what he was going to do to cope. He couldn’t be running around the streets of New York at night – somebody would see – or kill – him for sure. That’s when Gemma Cabello came into his life, knocking on his door and appearing right when he needed her most. She offered her protection for his first full moon and every other he’d need in return for the two of them to be allies. Apparently werewolves weren’t easy to come by in Manhattan. Heath wasn’t sure what a vampire needed from him, but he wasn’t in any place to turn down help. That night he allowed her to chain him down in the basement of her building, and the next morning while he was incredibly sore, he hadn’t moved from that basement. There was a comfort in being with Gemma – much like there had been with Rosalie, but unlike with the alpha, he knew all his feelings were real. She was devastatingly beautiful and had a power about her that brought Heath to his knees. He swore his allegiance to her and for the past ten years he stayed right by her side, even during the move to Maddox. Gemma promised him everything he had wanted from becoming a werewolf, and she has yet to disappoint. Throughout his time with Gemma, Heath has transformed from werewolf to warrior, acquiring skills of combat while working closely with the vampires. Many are surprised to know he’s not a vampire himself – with his quiet demeanor, hungry eyes and a taste for danger, Heath fits right in with them. Only his short temper and unwavering allegiance to loved ones hails from his werewolf side. But in spite of his immortal allies, Heath truly loves being a werewolf, although his experience with Rosalie (along with Gemma’s constant berating of other wolves) has made him wary of his own kind. The Volatire pack offered for him to join them when he first came to town, but Heath refused. He hated the power Rosalie had over him and never wishes for an alpha or anyone else to have that much of a pull on him again. But Heath’s blind to how much of a pull the vampire ruler has on him, and how far his loyalty to her truly goes.

GEMMA CABELLO: She is his queen and Heath is her knight, loyal and completely devoted to her. He’d move mountains if she commanded it. Gemma was the person that brought him back to life after being secluded from others for so long, but it was through her his prejudice towards other wolves came to be. He is completely in love with her and everyone knows it. As much as he loves being a werewolf and everything that comes with it, if Gemma asked him to become a vampire, he’d spend eternity with her in a heartbeat.

CALEB VOLTAIRE: Caleb had invited Heath to join his pack when him and the rest of the other supers came to town. Ever since turning it down, Heath’s felt an caution between them that’s impossible to explain. It’s clear Caleb doesn’t like him and Heath truly doesn’t care, since he doesn’t like the alpha much either. But Gemma usually sends Heath to talk to the alpha when issues arise with the pack, a constant reminder that though he’s loyal to the immortals, it’s Caleb’s people he shares the werewolf bond with.

GABRIEL MUELLER: The two met the morning after one of the full moons. Heath was content with ignoring the other wolf but Gabriel struck up a conversation, as if they were friends. The next time they ran into each other it was Heath who started a conversation, and slowly a hesitant friendship grew between the two. He’s the only wolf in the Voltaire pack Heath talks to, but it can be refreshing talking to someone of his own kind for once.

DIANE MASS: Already suspicious of anyone new coming to town thanks to the brief visit by the government, there’s something about this woman that makes a warning signal go off in his head. Gemma is so concerned about an imp threatening her empire that her or Leo aren’t concerned with many of the other visitors, this woman included, which makes Heath believe it’s his job to figure out what’s really going on.

HEATH VASILE is portrayed by SEBASTIAN STAN and is SLIGHTLY NEGOTIABLE. He is currently OPEN.

[wolfmanheath]

thequeengem:

Gemma tried to not let her irritation show as the wolf kept her waiting. Being impatient was always an Achille’s heel for her, even as a human she’d left destruction in her wake whenever someone tried to test it. But thankfully it was only a few moments before the door opened again – wider and inviting. 

Dainty hands graciously accepted the towel and phone, making sure to let her skin brush his in the process. Ice cold against flaming heat. Gemma didn’t look at him as she passed him into the studio, yet she knew his eyes followed her frame as they burned holes into her back. Her own were assessing the setting around her. Though the apartment wasn’t large, the few vast floor to ceiling windows slightly tinted with grime added an open presence to the place. A mattress on the floor with tangled sheets– no bed frame, clothes decorated the ground, and various takeout containers were stuffed in a rather tiny garbage bag; it all screamed bachelor pad, even the various…scents that lingered helped add to the aura. Well, at least he knows how to get around, she thought. The last thing she needed was some anti-social, emotionally damaged were-pup on the verge of a psychotic break. Most omegas tended to be that way since their sudden departure from the pack was a traumatizing experience on its own. Some never recovered.

But she could tell his story was different. Just the fact that she was able to fool him so easily proved that. A werewolf who’d never come in contact with a vampire before? The thought seemed unheard of. Yet here she was. Unsuspecting and somewhat trusted in the lion’s den.

Her focus was on running the towel through her drenched tresses while she turned to answered his question. “Yeah,” she let out a breathy chuckle as her eyes trailed down his form appreciatively. “The storm just came out of nowhere. I tried to beat it but…now my shoes are all squishy.” To enforce emphasis she added pressure as water seeped out onto the hardwood.

“I wasn’t even supposed to be out today.” She clarified the lie as she moved to stroke the towel up against her legs and thighs ( she might’ve made her movements more precise once she noticed his eyes flash a bit once her dress hiked up further to reveal creamy skin ). “But I had some last minute errands to run and my brother left for the weekend. Probably not the best time to be a ditz and lock myself out.”

Gemma tried to flash him a pained smile, one of a girl with a complicated family and rambling problem. “Let’s hope he answers,” she said encouragingly as she dialed her ‘brothers’ number. “You know how you guys are once distracted by beer and Fifa.” The phone rang and rang and rang…which it was supposed to do since she called one of their many dead-end phone numbers. On occasion, Gemma and Leo had to leave places without a trace. Sometimes that meant giving a “trusted” individual a form of contact that didn’t leave a paper trail back to them. There were many deals gone down where in the end they disappeared without holding up their end of the bargain. That’s just how the Cabello’s worked.

The young looking girl put up a front of feigned embarrassment. Especially once she called a second, and even a third time before giving up completely. It was a sneaky process though, as he did take his eyes off of her for a mere moment, she took that chance to use her slight of hand and remove the battery from the phone altogether. Didn’t need any unwanted calls disrupting her. She managed to slip it in her purse in a millisecond, completely unnoticed. “Um…he’ll probably call back eventually. When he does, can you tell him that it was his sister Gemma?” She said, almost hesitantly before handing his phone and towel back. It was added helplessness since she wasn’t as drenched but her clothes still stuck to her in obvious discomfort and her eyes held such emphasized grief. “Thanks..I’ll just wait the storm out–”

As if mother nature were on her side, a particularly loud clash of thunder rang out…all was silent before Gemma let out a small scream of surprise. And the power went out with it.

“…or not.”

Despite offering her up his belongings, Heath hadn’t planned on letting the girl into his home. Although he had hidden the chains (just barely, but all the same), there was still so much in his apartment that traced back to who and what he was that it made him uncomfortable having people around. Sure, he hosted one or two hookups in his apartment, but those were purely the straight-to-bed-and-out-the-door-in-a-few-hours type, not even taking the time to exchange pleasantries over a beer in his kitchen. His small studio was his wolf’s den, just one of the few things Heath was territorial over. But when the girl slipped through the doorway it seemed impossible to argue, so he slowly closed the door behind her. But his eyes stayed on her like a hawk, wanting to notice right away if the brunette caught sight of something that could possibly incriminate him.

With her eyes boldly sizing him up, it was hard for Heath not to do the same -- but as soon as he saw a flash of exposed thigh from her attempts at drying, the werewolf man quickly found himself very interested in the time on the clock. Only five more hours until the peak of the moon; he had to get out of there as soon as possible.

But it seemed the girl had a different idea. As Heath silently took a seat at his kitchen table, he watched as the brunette tried and tried again to call her brother, with nothing but the voicemail that his wolf ears could pick up. With every new dial Heath found himself losing a little more patience, getting antsy in his seat. “Sorry,” he mumbled the heart-hearted apology, unsure what else he could really do or say at that point. Rising back to his feet, Heath went to retrieve the phone and towel, ready for the beautiful teenage to be out of his apartment already --- until the lights backed out, as soon as the towel touched his skin.

“Shit,” he growled to himself, glancing up at the lights before over at the girl -- Gemma -- right in front of him. All he wanted to do was help her... but now, what other choice did he have? 

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to kick you out right away, but...” Heath paused, glancing at the chains attached to the floor from under the pile of clothes, before looking back towards her. “--I was just about to leave, actually. I have some errands to run. But, uh, the people to the floor below me aren’t so bad, I’m sure they can help you more than I can.” Running his fingers through his hair, Heath backed up a bit, trying to sort out his current thoughts. He’d ditch the girl, ditch the city, and flee to Long Island. Hopefully the raging storm outside would serve as a nice distraction for a werewolf to roam the island. It was all he could really hope for.

“Do you... I don’t know, want something to eat, before you go?” he offered up after a moment, feeling guilty about kicking her out like this. Especially when had it been any other night of the month, he might’ve been more interested in getting to know the beautiful girl in front of him. “I don’t have much, but...” Heath’s voice trailed off awkwardly, a reminder to himself that there was a reason he didn’t invite anyone into his apartment.

[thequeengem]

@wolfmanheath

Gemma Cabello was the embodiment of both sin and savior shrouded in an angelic light as she ascended the rickety staircase. A rundown apartment building in Queens is where her current presence was being graced, right smack dab where high crime and neanderthals must’ve settled when society made its place in the new world. The smell of intense body odor, smoke, and a few other unmentionables made its way up her nose and into her core. Usually, she wouldn’t be caught dead south of the Brooklyn Bridge since it was home to more…eccentric supers and humans alike. Not everyone conformed to her and Leo’s rule once they established their new empire over a century ago. Though no one would be as stupid to form an open rebellion, not while they amassed such a following, it was still unknown just how deep-rooted the resistance was in the outer borough territories.

Today was different.

The petite queen dressed in her finest white, embroidered dress that had fine detailing in how it structured her figure and flowed an inch above her knees, same colored flats that were trimmed in silver, while her hair bounced with each step forward into dangerous territory. The beat of her heart thrummed with newly ingested blood– a couple of street urchins were very generous donors to her cause. Not only did she want to limit the number of eyes around the territory, but the energy gained was needed for the amount of compulsion required. Everyone in the building needed to be rewired, forged anew. Their memories shaped, thoughts rearranged and erased for her benefit. And the benefit of another.

Gemma Cabello was bounty hunting. She’d followed a trail throughout the city, that eventually led to crossing territories. It was a particular…scent that left an impression; one she hadn’t come across in decades. Not without a price.

Wolves were a rare species. Rare in these lands at least. With no vast woodlands, swamps, or ruins for them to claim for their own, most packs were located in less populous cities. Ones where ‘animal attacks’ were easily passed as a regular occurrence. While New York already had a high crime rate, trying to pass off a bear or mountain lion roaming the streets would be a migraine in itself. Gemma would know; her and the coven she ruled kept a strict set of commandments about their feeding habits. No deaths. The humans had grown in their intelligence since the 19th century. And now with the ability to tell how, when, and practically why someone had died, the usual trail of bodies they’d leave had to be swept under the rug and locked away with the rest of their skeletons in the dark. 

Humans finding out about their existence didn’t help either. While vampires could still hide their activities with compulsion and minor feedings, werewolves were a bit more…exposed. Strange gypsy families and unknown towns practically living off the grid were now hunting grounds for the moronically, ballsy humans who feel safe hiding behind guns. That’s why when she came across the scent a couple of weeks back ( one which lingered in Central Park, almost as if this pup visited regularly ) the vampire jumped at the opportunity. The opportunity to do something much more than eradicate. Than to add to the already growing pile of K-9′s across the country. But rather to obtain.

It was a ridiculous feat, her brother Leo had made that evidently clear when she’d done her first attempt almost 20 years back. Too dangerous to walk that fine line of training a mortal enemy. But Gemma had vision, and having a werewolf on her side would turn the tide in her favor no matter the opposition. They were strong, blood-thirsty beasts, with an undying sense of loyalty other immortals couldn’t obtain unless previously established before their turning. Gemma always held secret fantasies of having one to herself and molding them to her liking. A personal warrior at her beck and call ready to bend the world to her will– the thought sent a thrill down her spine. It was more intoxicating than the high of a fresh kill. 

While her first trial run failed ( let’s just say trying to persuade a pack wolf only bred trouble; the kind that ended in mass murder ) she learned that maybe it was an omega, a lone wolf that she should be targeting. And thus– here she was.

The queen’s cerulean eyes drifted over multi-stained carpeting to the yellow colored walls. She’d made it to the top floor, where she knew from brief interrogations ( which were immediately erased from their minds, just as her presence and the hidden wolf in the attic were moments afterward ) that it only held one room: the loft. The shallowed drunk who smelt of cheap beer and desperation on the first floor let her know the loft had remained vacant– until a few weeks ago. A woman whose arms were marked with bruises and eyes were hazy and heavy let her know about the occupant: she didn’t see him much, Gemma’s eyes glowed at knowing it was a man, and that he was young, kept mostly to himself, and was rarely here. A hoodlum who loitered outside let her know that he stayed in the apartment directly under the tenant and that he swore he’d heard some work going on one day. Like hammering and drills going on day in and out; the sound of chains, heavy chains hitting the ground. She’d had an idea about that. The wolf was probably preparing for the full moon– to the best of his ability at least. Wherever he came from, he’d probably been with a pack and had a more bulletproof plan to how he handled his transformation. Endless woods or underground cells of the strongest silver infused steel were usually their go to. But now, being in the big city surrounded by potential victims…he was panicking.

Which was why Gemma chose the day of the full moon to find him.

Sure, she could’ve sought him out the day she’d come across his scent. Threatened him, beaten him, the like. But no, she wanted to play a different hand. One where he needed her, more than she did him. She needed the wolf scared, desperate. Hopeless.

Her glides forward quickly changed from steps of ignited purpose to the soft, delicate steps of a small girl as she now stood in front of his door. The strong coyness of her eyes and the sly, fox’s smile shifted to innocence. Gemma became the unsuspecting sheep in the wolf’s den. If only he knew of the devil rotting her core.

Her dainty hand knocked on the hardwood, while her eyes skittered to the ground to feign nervousness. Brushing wet tendrils of hair behind her ear ( thank heavens for the recent rainfall, now her drenched form would only elevate her pathetic stance ), the enhanced gift of hearing let her know those previous brief movements stalled the moment she’d knocked. A few seconds passed before she heard the groaning of slow footsteps across the floorboards. The boy hesitated, she could hear his accelerated heartbeat, before she heard a muffled “who is it?” on the other side of the threshold.

“Your neighbor,” Gemma chimed back, her voice as clear as ringing bells.

A sigh was released ( of relief perhaps? ) and something thumped on the floor. Something heavy…probably a weapon. Big mistake, she thought. Because she was a weapon herself. Locks unturned and chains were released before the door cracked open. The first thing she noticed was the blue eyes. Her neck had to crane just to see them. The boy was tall, slightly disheveled dark hair and a 5 o’clock shadow were prominent against his tan skin. Smooth muscle wrapped around his neck, down to the beginning of his chest which poked out of a v-neck shirt. The only thing more prominent than his stench was his eyes. Blue, just as blue as hers, but…icier, by nature. While his form could’ve passed for a man, it was his eyes that still withheld the gullible sense of childhood. They raked her form, took in the dampness on her skin and the white dress that clung to her bones from the harsh rain outside. In the time it’d taken him to answer the door, she’d wrapped her arms around her torso almost as if she were holding herself together. His nose flared as he took in her scent. Another reason she’d taken time to interrogate fellow humans was to help mask her scent with that of their mortality. It rarely lasted, but Gemma only needed the aid to get her in the door.

Gemma ‘fake’ chattered her teeth as she rubbed her hands up and down her forearms. Her skin was icy as it had been since she’d turned. But he didn’t know that. “I-I didn’t mean to disturb you…” she stuttered a whisper. “I forgot my key..and my phone died. I’ve seen you around,” she gulped. “And you’re probably the only one in the building who isn’t a criminal or contagious.” Or both, she wanted to add. Humans were tricky and unpredictable like that. Doe-eyes were enhanced as she licked her lips. His eyes followed her tongue with that movement. Bingo. “Do you have a phone…I could borrow. Maybe a towel…? I’ll only take a minute, I swear.” 

[wolfmanheath]

The day Heath had decided to escape Rosalie’s pack and get on the first bus he could steal a seat on inadvertently turned out to be the best day of the werewolf’s young life. When the Greyhound let its patrons off at Port Authority, the blue-eyed teenager could easily be mistaken for any other eighteen-year old kid from the middle of nowhere America that decided to try to make it in the big city -- because in a way, it wasn’t wrong. Only instead of being a midwesterner with a dream of going into show biz or finding love, Heath just wanted a new start being able to be his own person.

And for the first two weeks, it was good. After spending a few nights sleeping on subways and pickpocketing for cash, Heath was able to scrounge up enough money and resources to rent his own place. Sure, it was the shadiest part of Queens, so far outside of Manhattan that Heath found no reason to stray from his borough. Because other than Central Park (which he visited twice a week at least, enjoying the feeling of escaping the city life even for a few hours), what else was there for him? The jobs he worked, drinks he bought, and girls he met were all within Queens -- quite possibly the only part of New York City he could even afford to step foot in, financially. 

Heath didn’t plan on staying in Queens forever, though. As exciting as the hustle and bustle of New York was compared to the secluded cabin in the woods, the wolf inside him was getting more and more antsy by the day. The full moon had been nineteen days away when he had first come to New York -- for him, it was nineteen days to figure out how he was going to hide a monster in a city with a population density the highest in the country. It sounded like a lot at the time, but as the days got longer with work and scouring like a city rat for food, the faraway date got closer and closer. 

Two days before the full moon and Heath could already begin to feel the signs: temper flares, bursts of frustrated energy, difficulty staying in his human form. There were ways to handle this when he had been in the pack, typically taking a run in his wolf form or letting his frustrations out with Rosalie in the bedroom. But with no place for his wolf to be let off its leash (and not wanting to accidentally turn one of his late-night booty calls if his inner wolf got too frisky in bed), Heath found himself shutting down. After calling in sick for work, the eighteen year old put himself on house arrest, with no chance of leaving his apartment until he knew how he was getting through the Full Moon.

Nearly thirty-six hours later, and only one thing was certain: Heath was screwed.

Sure, he had a plan. He had multiple plans, really -- none of them just seemed like enough. The most realistic option to the werewolf seemed to be simple: get as far out of the city as possible. All he needed was a car and he could hop onto the LIE and find the most abandoned part of Long Island to spend the night -- or he could go the other way, and give Pennsylvania a spin. Now was his chance to not only leave Queens but leave quite possibly save his life, knowing a werewolf in the city was a recipe for disaster. 

There were only two problems with that plan. Heath wasn’t ready to leave the city, if he was being honest. He hated hiding who he was, but even in a city full of strangers, he felt the most at peace than he had in his entire time in the pack.

Even if he wanted to leave, there was something even more important: he didn’t have a car. 

And while he had made quite a few friends in the local bars and jobs, there was no chance of borrowing someone’s car for an entire night. So he took to buying chains, hoping the movies and television shows of werewolves being held back by silver chains were enough to save his life. The night before Heath was up til midnight drilling into the walls and floors, but it wasn’t until early the next morning that the thought dawned on him. What if his neighbors heard him? All it took was one noisy neighbor to hear the sound of a rabid dog to come up and investigate themselves -- or worse, draw their own conclusions. As soon as one of the neighbors cried wolf, Heath was out of a home.

By the time Heath heard the knock on the door, he had just about given up hope. The only other option seemed to be getting out of the city by foot, but the sky was pouring buckets of water outside his window, tempting the wolfman to decide whether it was a move he truly wanted to make. He had been so focused on his own thoughts that he hadn’t even heard the footsteps of the figure -- but as soon as he heard them, he could smell them. The rain covered a scent that, even while barely potent, made the hairs on the back of Heath’s neck stand up. It was one he had caught whiff of a few times in New York, but never tried hard enough to figure out. Whatever it was, it wasn’t human, nor was it wolf.

There was no way in hell that thing was his neighbor; Heath could recognize the scent of every apartment in the small building, even if he hadn’t met any of them in person. Still, something compelled him to walk over to the door and undo the two locks, leaving only the chain one done. And as he opened the door, the small space that the chained lock allowed him to open gave Heath jut enough space to see what he wanted. 

It was a girl. It had been obvious by the sound of her voice, but he had been so wrapped up in what it may be that he hadn’t thought about who. She was cold and shivering on his door step, doe-eyed dressed in white. All she needed was the red cape and she could’ve easily been a character out of a fairy tale, showing up on the Big Bad Wolf’s doorstep like a tasty little snack. 

And the wolf in him wanted to devour her instantly, perhaps in more ways than one. But he kept it in check, even if the aggravation caused by the full moon was beginning to creep back in him.

Despite the strange smell that surrounded her, it was impossible to detect any real threat in the form of a teenage girl. Heath’s mouth curled in automatic response, getting ready to tell her that he didn’t have a phone or was just about to step out. But... well, what could he say? Sometimes the Big Bad Wolf tried to be the knight in shining armor. He could dream, at least. 

“Just... give me a minute,” his words came out a low growl, though there was no agitation in his voice. When he closed the door he redid the locks once more -- more out of habit than anything -- than quickly dashed to clean the place up. It wasn’t so much that his apartment was messy (considering he didn’t have many, but rather trying to hide the chains that had been drilled into the floor of his studio apartment. In a panic, Heath knew nothing better to hide it with than tossing clothes on top of them, creating four piles of laundry on the floor. While it wasn’t the nicest apartment to be walking into, at least it looked like a teenage boy lived there.

By the time Heath opened his front door again (unlocking all three locks this time), he was already holding out his burner phone and a towel. “It’s raining that hard, is it?” he clucked his tongue at her appearance, though didn’t stare too long at the girl. There was something about being face to face with her that made him feel suddenly anxious, and that wasn’t even counting her weird scent. But whatever she was, Heath really couldn’t care less. The sooner she was dry, the sooner she would leave -- and the more time Heath had at making a final decision on what the hell he was going to do.