What I've discovered over the last few days is this. My mom is a wolf . My dad enjoyed hunting, only not the kind of hunting people know about. He was a warewolf hunter. I inherited both genes at birth. My warewolf half didn't allow hunter gene take over because wolves and hunters are inherently hostile to one another. Given my proximity to what people refer to as "a monster," the hunter gene has started to manifest itself ever since Marc and I had sex.
If all of it weren't enough, It seems like Marc felt the same things I did when I was around him: a a desire to mate. That's how my werewolf half is responding to him being there. He concurred. Our current location is a witch's home. Mom and Ash are attempting to find a means to restore our life.
The reality can seem overwhelming at times. But when faced with a challenge, my natural reaction as a physicist is to find a solution. I don't typically waste time contemplating how serious the problem is. Observe an issue? Think. Reflect more. Fix it. I've lived by that since I was a young child. With a pen and paper, I can solve my problem; with kicks and punches, though, that's a whole different ball-and-court game. If only my issue didn't include supernatural beings.
I punch Marc harder, who is now in charge of my training. We have been here for two weeks, and there is no news of the outside world.
"How much longer are we going to stay here?" I ask Marc to defend his kick by launching a
"That depends on how long it takes you to beat me." He said. Block me again, kicking my legs so that I lose my balance. He is now on top of me on the ground. I am pinned under him.
I lean into him to kiss him, and he responds. I take this chance to turn him over and have him locked under me. "You mean like this?"
"Sure. You can't trick the other opponents with kisses." He smiled. I have to get used to seeing him smile. Having known him for a year, I didn't realize he could be this relaxed. Tobias killed his parents, threatened to kill his sister, and is now after all of us. Yet here he is, calm, with a smile plastered on his face.
When he moves out from beneath me, I swiftly roll away while attempting to rise. I'm not tricking you, he asserts. Then, turning to his wolf self, he remarked, "Let's see if you can block this. A towering, human-like beast with a lot more body hair now stood in front of me. Werewolves aren't actually wolves, I've discovered. They do not move around on all fours. He appeared larger than before as he stood upright. This is still weird to me. Instead of defending, I lower my arms and take a step back.
He lunges at me with an enraged snarl. He turns to face me as I step to the side. "Enough!" I yell. Now that he is no longer visibly furious, he turns around. His trousers, which had barely protected his manly legs, are now ripping in multiple places, and his t-shirt is also in tatters. He softens and assumes a shape that is more recognisable to me.
"You are going to get used to this," he says.
"I will." I said. 'Will I?' I wonder.