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Garou felt no guilt. No remorse. And he was annoying as fuck.
Love you, too, asshole.
Baptiste sat on the ground and rested his back against the fallen trunk of the tree. He missed his big, comfy bed. Missed his apartment. His shower. Food. Foraging in the woods just didn’t satisfy.
Berries and nuts are for prey. I want meat.
His beast side was all carnivore in direct contrast to the man who’d gone vegetarian a while ago. It pissed off his wolf side something fierce.
“I’ll find us something in the morning,” Baptiste promised.
Your liver is looking awfully tasty.
“How many times have I said that isn’t funny?” He should have never watched that movie, Venom. Ever since, Garou had been reciting some of his favorite parts and being a general pain in his ass.
Full moon is soon. Good thing. We’re getting weak.
The reminder brought a grimace. On the full moon, he would shift. He’d have no choice. And if it was like previous times, he’d wake to his belly full of whatever Garou hunted, the blood left on his lips and tongue tasting more delicious than it should.
Meat is life!
“Killing is wrong,” he muttered.
Pussy. Speaking of which, been a while since we munched on any.
“Whoa. Way inappropriate.”
A wolf has needs.
“I’m not in the mood.”
I swear, I will mount a dog next full moon. Maybe that cute mastiff who lives behind that pizza place.
“Don’t you dare hump anything!”
I don’t take orders from you.
“Why me?” Baptiste groaned.
Because you are blessed.
Funny, because it didn’t feel that way, a thought that followed him into a restless sleep.
He woke at dawn, stiff and cold, the fire down to just embers. Time to get moving. With winter coming, food would be getting scarce. Soon a campfire wouldn’t be enough as the deep chill moved in. Then what?
I have a task for you. The feminine voice in his head wasn’t Garou but his inner beast answered, Fuck yeah.
Baptiste shook his head. “Can we not get excited about disembodied voices?” As if he needed more evidence he slowly lost his mind. He rose and glanced around. He saw no one but was reminded of the rumors that this section of the forest was haunted.
As he stomped off, Garou whined. Why must you ruin all my fun?
Because fun was for people who didn’t murder their fiancées.
* * *
As the man and beast wandered away, he missed the sharp wind that shifted the embers in the trunk. The ash stirred and rose, clouding the inside of the charred remains of the tree. When it settled, a very large kernel could be seen. The seed, the size of a beanbag chair, rocked, its motions violent enough it cracked. The sides split apart, revealing a bent form that untangled and rose, the shape very womanly. Her hair, long and white. As she stretched and sighed, in a scratchy whisper like that of a branch rubbing a branch she said, “At last. I’m free.”
Chapter 2
