Wanton Hearts - Chapter 1

New York, 1820

Zac Logan suddenly lifted his head. The fine hairs on his nape started to stand. This meant an enemy was nearby. His nose twitched. The smell was overpowering. The stench was that of rotting human flesh.

And it was familiar...

She is here!

His sharp eyes roamed the crowd. It was nearing dusk. There were many people walking on different directions. He squinted at an old woman. Her face was downward. She wrapped herself with a thin shawl. She was limping while walking away until she was gone.

"Hi!" A young woman appeared before him. She was smiling seductively.

"Hi," Zac replied distractedly.

"You look hot! Care to cool off?" It was a blatant invitation. Her intent clear in her eyes.

Zac looked at the woman. She walked towards him unhurriedly.

"Where?"

"My place." Her red lips smacked the air and blew the kiss towards him while jiggling her bosom in her slinky red dress.

He was without a woman for weeks. He had a perennial hard-on.

It was her fault! That damned witch!

Zac followed the woman automatically while he continued cursing the witch mentally.

The witch was Olga Quintanar. She became his nemesis. Everywhere he went, she was there. He moved with his pack from San Francisco to New York in the middle of the night. Hoping he would lose her...

It had been a week now. He had seen no shadow of Olga Quintanar. The stench he smelled earlier might be a dead animal under the pile of garbage nearby.

Zac Logan was leader of his pack ever since he was a teenager. He had defeated the old alpha on a one-on-one fight. The alpha's wife was Zac's mistress, who had incidentally bit him while they were sleeping together. He turned into a werewolf on the first full moon.

It was excruciatingly painful. His muscles and joints were stretched and shrunk until his arms and legs became the limbs of a wolf.

The old alpha was egged on to challenge him. Zac was forced to fight.

He was young and wily. He had adjusted fast to his new form and fought with all his might. He had won hands down. The old alpha was banished to be alone.

The wife of the old alpha was banished, too. Zac rejected her to be his partner. He did not need a permanent woman. He wanted many partners and on just one night to one week only.

The tradition was the alpha had a stable relationship. Zac was too stubborn to follow convention. Every time he was challenged by his pack, he would throw down the gauntlet. He was too strong to be defied by aspiring alpha for long.

But now, he was starting to change his mind. If he had a steady girlfriend or a wife, he would not be tempted by the witch. Olga Quintanar masqueraded as a beautiful woman. Young and fresh as budding rose, she failed to screen her bad fragrance. His fierce sense of smell saved him from the clutches of the wicked Olga.

Zac sniffed the air while following the woman to her apartment. Not a whiff of putrefying odor. Her perfume was a bouquet of lavender and roses. He followed his nose inside.

"What's your name?"

The woman smiled mysteriously. "Just call me Gorgeous!"

"Gorgeous," he repeated while his sharp eyes roamed the room. He was fastidious. The woman was neat and tidy in her flat as she was on herself.

'Good.'

"Wait here. I'll just take a shower." Her slinky dress went flying to the hamper. Her smooth back and shapely thighs were on display as she rolled down the thin pantyhose.

His body roared mutely. He gritted his teeth to control himself.

Zac walked around slowly to calm down his body. He observed the small room. It had a single bed at one corner. The corner shower room cum toilet was tiny. The kitchen counter was even tinier because of the table with the bottle of wine.

The woman did not pull the curtain while taking a shower. She let him watch her while she watched him. Her eyes never leave him. She had her hair inside a shower cap to avoid getting wet.

Zac pretended to explore the small room. He saw a large painting of a forest with full moon at the right top corner. The frame was simple for a big painting. It was life-sized. It covered the whole wall.

"Do you like my masterpiece?" The woman strolled towards him. She was damp with beads of water. Her shoulder-length blonde hair and made-up face were dry. Her perfume wafted around him.

"You are a painter?" They had a small talk while Zac was pretending to admire the painting. He made no move yet. He sensed something was not right but could not put his finger on it.

"Yes," she whispered huskily. She was comfortable moving around. Her body was wrapped with a towel. She bent over the table. She poured red wine into two glasses.

Zac accepted the wineglass but just held it. He noticed that the woman was not drinking.

"How long are you painting?"

"Just recently. That was my only work." The woman seemed restless suddenly. "You look uncomfortably hot!"

Rivulets of perspiration were rolling down his face and neck. They pooled on his hairy chest. The checkered polo was damp with sweat.

"Let's open the windows." Zac had a reason to put down the wineglass. He unbuttoned his polo. He opened the two wooden windows. "Ah, cold air," he inhaled fresh oxygen in gulps.

She embraced him from behind.

"Hmm... I like your smell. Musky and crisp!"

His body begged to be free. Her fingers groped the buttons. She seemed an expert on disrobing a man.

"Wait--"

Zac nuzzled the soft skin. He could not help but sniff her. She was so fragrant. Like a bouquet of fresh roses...

He walked backwards and, when the back of his knees felt the edge, he let himself fall with the woman.

Gorgeous mapped his face with her mouth.