CHAPTER 1

ADAM VAUGH

            I first open an eye and after a few seconds the other one, the lights bother me, my head throbs as if a heavy metal band was playing an inferno guitar solo on my temple.

            I’ll never drink like this again, getting wasted definitely doesn’t agree with me, I spend thirty five years without getting drunk once and now I can figure out the real motive: I’m an intelligent guy, I was right in being sober.

            The wet umbrella taste in my mouth, the sore muscles as if they had been crushed in a grinder. Anyway, all this torture after a drinking day, it’s definitely not for me.

            I get up towards the bathroom, walking like an eighty year old man and when I look at the clock beside my bed, an adrenaline rush takes over my body like a feral attack of a thousand eels.

            I’m late, FUCK, I’M FUCKING LATE!!! I scream out loud, and a few more quite original swear words.

            HOLY SHIT! I was certainly heard by all my brothers in our house, that is surprisingly quiet during the first hours of the morning.

            I take a quick shower, put on my uniform adjusting the holster on my belt and go to the kitchen.

            I rest my gun on the marble counter and I angrily stare my brother Hunter, that by the looks of it either woke up early or just got home now.

            A night owl, the son of a bitch, that’s what Hunter is, I don’t know how he can live in this shit, women, drinking, potent Harley Davidsons, not necessarily in this order. This little shit, two years younger than me was watching me with a ridiculous grin on his bad boy’s face. 

            “Old man, you look terrible, man!”, he gives me a coffee mug and a piece of toast with peanut butter.

            “Good morning to you too, Hunt.” I return his scornful look with a frown.

            “A great day, my brother. Do you want an aspirin?”

            And he gives me a pill, I struggle in admitting my morning misery, but I accept.

            “Hunt, I’m late to work, do you believe it? I was never late.”

            He agrees nodding his almost shaved boxer big head and completes it:

            “You also have never gotten drunk before, can I help you with anything?”

            “No, it’s alright, I’m going.”

            When I almost at the door, Hunter yells, making me go back to him:

            “Open your hand, Damy Boy.”

            I open my hand still frowning, Hunt know I hate this ridiculous nickname, anyway, am I the older brother or not in this shit family?

            He showed me his tongue and behaving childlike as if he was a big ogre baby, he hands me my fucking gun and my badge.

            My head is really shitty, he smiles and I thank him.

            “Thanks, man!”

            He bumps his fist on mine, in a masculine greeting and smiles clumsily.

            “I try to support my brother now that he’s becoming an old forgetful person.”

            I raise my middle finger in answer and run towards the Portland Police Station car, parked at our door.

            Traffic is fine, in twenty minutes I get to work.

            Peter Cumming, my only friend and one of the most competent policemen in the District, kindly gives me a cup of coffee with cream from BT Cake and throws himself in the chair in front of my desk.

            “Good morning, Sheriff Vaugh, what’s up with the face?”

            “Thanks for the coffee and don’t annoy me, Cumming. Hunter is already filling the position well enough to fuck with me. What do we have for today?”

            “After such a long calming period in this small town, we have an investigation ahead of us, a breaking in, let me see…”

            He stops and looks at the police report on his hands, finishing his thought:

            “Mrs. Thompson, at 1240 Kruse Oask Boulevard, near Lake Oswego.”

            “Okay! Let’s get to work, but before that I have to have my coffee, I just need a good dosage of caffeine and I’ll be ready to another one.”

            Peter watches me curiously, we were always friends and the complete opposite. While Peter can’t resist to the perfect combination of a good whiskey bottle and a huge pair of breast.

            Me, ah… What can I say, I allow myself at most an afternoon fishing and a Budweiser once in a while to relax from work.

            Excesses, irresponsible behavior, was always things I despised, but recently, the weight of conducting my small and secret pack of wolves, has made me want to forget sometimes that I’m the older brother, the one responsible in keeping the order inside and out of the house, the alpha male of this pack.

            Whiskey didn’t bring the answers I need to find peace, it only makes me forget briefly. It wasn’t the solution of my problemas, but it’s something, forget, to just rest my head on a pillow without dread, without sleepless nights, without anger taking over my body, only the most complete and tasteful forgetfulness, even if is just for one night.

            “What happened, man? Did a truck ran you over or were you drunk last night?”

            “Nothing spectacular, I had some Bourbon and it didn’t agree with me.”

            Didn’t agree with me… At the moment so many things aren’t agreeing with me: the bitter memory of the accident that took my parents and the premature death of my younger sister, Onika. having to gather strength of only God knows from where and gather what is left of my family, the huge amount of work I do to keep us in Portland without suspicions.

            There are so many little details that make me sick… To list them all it’s practically impossible.

            We parked in front of Mrs. Thompson’s and the first thing I noticed was that her house wasn’t one of the best.

            The wooden floor was really wasted on the porch, the door was in a decrepit state, it made me think for a few moments, why would anyone try to rob such a simple house?

            I rang the door bell and after an eternity, I was surprised on the crack of the door by the most beautiful pair of blue eyes I’ve ever seen in my life.

            Scared and supplicant, they stared at me for long and unbearable seconds, I caught myself holding my breath without any logic reason.

            “Mrs. Thompson?” I asked after a ridiculous long time.

            She opened the door a bit, correcting me.

            “Miss, I’m single.”

            I responded something incomprehensive and Peter poked me on the ribs. What was happening to me after all? I put on a smile and respond in an automatic way.

            “Hmm.”          

            Fuck, what I meant with this pathetic “Hmm”? A woman called us to report a crime, she wasn’t a piece of meat to be appreciated with moans and growls.

            “Forgive me, Miss Thompson, I’m Sheriff Vaugh, may we have a quick talk?”

            “Okay, just give me a minute, please.”

            The door opened right after and a young and small woman revealed herself behind it, holding shyly the door knob.

            Small, scared and… annoyingly beautiful.

            With light blond long and straight hair, irregular bangs covering her forehead, with little freckles on her cheeks and nose, that made her a frail and curious package of femininity wrapped in flesh and bone.

            Her skin was very white and pale in contrast with the huge and clumsy black coat that covered her to half of her thigh.

            Trying to disguise it my interest and not being able to, I admire her milk creamy thighs, the well shaped legs, the feminine and round hips, the smooth curve of her small breasts.

            Till I’m captured by her look, she caught me inspecting her.

            “You may come in, Sheriff Vaugh.” She stretches out her hand in a smooth shake and I take my time to let it go from her thin and warm fingers, her eyes go towards my companion.

            Confused, I point at my partner and he saves me from the embarrassment of my sudden silence.

            “Pleased to meet you, Miss Thompson, I’m officer Cumming.” Peter nods and gives her his best smile, like an Irish Don Juan.

            Miss Thompson points to the couch so we can be comfortable, but without covering her nervousness she remained standing, wrapping the tip of the coat with tense fingers, letting it be revealed a big chunk of her deliciously pale thigh.

            I try to control my breathing and my heart beating, that are totally out of compass, I look down at the volume compressing the zipper of my pants, I raise my eyes and I’m facing Miss Thompson watching my male misery.

            What kind of man is aroused in front of a woman in a delicate moment? To be aroused in front o her is absolutely unacceptable, I look away and get a notepad in the uniform pocket, without being able to look at her.

            “Could you tell us what happened in the break in of your house, we are here to help you, Miss Thompson.” I informed her, without success, in the attempt of calming her down.

            Pacing, she told us all the important details, since her arrival at the door of the house, when she noticed that it was broken in, till the cigarette butts that the criminal left on her living room ashtray.

            It wasn’t an argument, actually I was talking out loud, but something made me extremely intrigued, and I asked Peter to take note of this observation too.

            “It’s weird that the suspect stopped to smoke in the middle of the robbery, there was a robbery, right? What have you missed in your house, miss?”

            She stopped her pacing and turned to me, bitting her nails.

            “Now that you mentioned, I don’t miss anything.”

            “Very weird, it’s like the suspect had no hurry in leaving the house, he calmly smoked two cigarettes, and he didn’t take anything, that’s not typical for someone who wants to sneak in, it seems like some kind of warning.”

            Miss Thompson’s pale face transfixed itself in a terror mask. She held the backrest of the couch and went quiet, her big blue eyes were even more wide and, as always, the shiver on my neck that’s never wrong told me instinctively: she’s hiding something.

            “Do you have an enemy? Someone that wants to scare you, threaten you for some reason?”

            Her silence told me more than a thousand words, she has something to hide and for what I can see it’s going to he hard to be reveled now.

            That’s no problem, I’m an innate tracker, the wolf that lives in me loves to sniff the truth, her secret won’t be hidden for a long time, I’m sure of that.

            Nervously she twists the tip of the coat and denies it vehemently my question, looking away and changing the subject discreetly.

            “No, why would a waitress have enemies? It must be some crazy person that decided to break in my house, I won’t give too much credit to what happened, I think it would be better if I withdraw my complaint, it wasn’t anything really, I’m sorry for taking your time with something silly like this, I’ll accompany you to the door.”

            Peter and I got up and went to the door, accompanied by a Miss Thompson in an hurry to let us go, practically kicking us out of her house.

            I held the door, putting a foot down to keep it open and to warn her that the investigations would go on.

            “We’ll keep investigating and if you remember any detail even if you don’t think it’s very important, this is my card, it has the station number and my cellphone, call at anytime, I’ll be ready to hear you. But this crime won’t go unpunished, there’s something really weird in the break in of your house and I’m going to find out what it is. Good afternoon, Miss Thompson.”

            She reached her hand and got my card, our hands were united for some seconds, the heat of her frail fingers moved my body, leaving me with an aching hard cock, in a way that not even a thousand stripers would want to come close.

            I imagine these little fingers wrapped on my neck, covering me with wet kisses, her soft voice whispering and moaning in my ear while she cums hard.

            This little hand around my penis, making me mad… My God, I’m investigating the break in of this woman’s house, it makes no sense for me to get aroused by a scared figure.

            But I can’t explain the reason my body reacts this way to Miss Thompson, I only know I want to see her agin, I want to look at these scared little bunny eyes, her small and half opened mouth with mine. Instinctively I wan’t to have her around me again, I don’t know why, but this is the truth.

            She awakens me from the sexual reverie by releasing my fingers and looking away to anywhere else.

            “I don’t think it’s necessary for you to waste your time with something silly like this, but if I remember something, I’ll call, thank you and good afternoon.”

            Having another cup of coffee from BT Cake, a diner downtown Portland, Peter and I talked while the waitress serves our table.

            “I thought it was really weird that the suspect wasted his time smoking two cigarettes in the house and didn’t take absolutely anything, what do you think, Peter?”

            “I agree with you, and I also think that miss Thompson is the most delicious and scary thing that rocked your wall, my friend! That’s the only thing that can explain that ridiculous scene with you mouth wide open, fucking with your eyes the poor thing when she opened the door.”

            The best thing is to deny and that’s what I did even though I knew that Peter knew me long enough to know I was lying.

            “Me? No, no way, I was just distracted, she is quite beautiful, but, geez, not this way and…”

            Peter laughed with his mouth full of doughnut and I got even angrier.

            “And… She shook you, man, that’s the truth, that’s good, it’s been long time since I’ve see you reacting to a women that way, you should look for her.”

            “Are you mad, I’m investigating a break in at her house, this won’t happen, Cumming.”

            Peter shrugged and went on with his coffee, enjoying a doughnut after another, he didn’t swallow my excuse and to be honest, I didn’t believe it either in a word I just said.

            I want to meet Miss Thompson, she weirdly awakens in my a neediness to comfort her in my arms, to take care of her at any risk, to protect her.

            Where did I get an idea like that, I don’t know, I’m not a regular guy who asks a woman to a date, asks her to marry and give her children.

            I’m a fucking wolf, a hunting and bloody beast under this normality mask, of an exemplary citizen.

            The correct and balanced Sheriff Adam Vaugh is an alpha wolf of a little pack of stragglers, my brothers.

            My duty is to keep my family and my specie safe, to that, there’s no other way than renouncing, keeping distance at any situation that can put us at risk of becoming vulnerable and being discovered.

            That includes lovely dates with scared girls.

            Therefore, I won’t be the lucky guy who’ll take Miss Thompson to a date, surely the last thing she wants is to get involved with a weird guy like me.

            No girl wants to have sex with a weird guy that from one minute to the other transforms into a wolf over seven foot long, ready to kill.

            My life changed drastically when my parents died, sometimes I thing that being a lycanthrope, a wolf, is at the same time a blessing and a curse.

            Mother Nature gifted us with sharp senses, making us a strong, dominant and lethal specie. The fact that my brothers and I remain together in a pack, even though straggler from the other ones, it was determinant for our survival after the loss of our parents, because even though they were really young, our animal instincts kept us safe from the dangers that surround the lives of wolves like us, in constant danger of being hunt.

            But, behind all this gift, there’s a high cost to pay, these animals, the same instincts that keep us alert, make us eternal hunters and frail prey to the hunters need, of owning, of desire of protection and domain.

            The animal that lives inside us fights constantly with the man, with the human that needs to adapt, to fit in community and not always in this fight, the man wins.

            When the beast wins, there’s nothing to stop us, to tame us, what move us is the visceral and animal need of having our most primitive desires completely satisfied.

            And that’s what I fear the most, having to face a woman one day that indices and frees my tamed wolf, and desiring her so much in a way that the man loses the right against the male, the uncontrolled beast, unrestrained, insatiable.