Chapter 4: Mr. Nobody - Pack of Mine

My God, this bitch looks even sexier in the daylight. She stares at me with fear, but a bit of curiosity swims in those pretty irises too. The smell of panic on a beautiful woman’s skin… It makes my cock twitch.

I sigh.

I’m not the man you take home to meet your mama. Shit, even my family wasn’t a fan of my company. It didn’t take long to become the black sheep – I was practically begging for it as a kid.

I’ll probably never meet a girl’s parents. I’d be lucky if I got to know them beyond what they like in bed. They grow frightened with the terror, and it turns me on, creating a constant negative feedback loop that never goes farther than sex. I end right where I started again, listening to the devil on my shoulder whispering sweet nothings.

My mother always did her best with what she had, though. She tried teaching me to have manners and be a kind person, but I’ve never been known to keep my mouth shut, my fists tucked, or my dick soft. Neither did my father.

I’m already living with the consequences of bad behavior, so why not fuck around some more? What’s actually rewarding about having a good moral compass? I’m not trying to become the president or apply for college, so who gives a fuck?

Octavia – I learned her name from her phone that I stole out of her bag last night – tastes like a god-given right to me. There’s a pull on my chest towards her. I’m convinced Satan delivered her to my car last night for some sick and twisted reason I can’t explain yet.

Unfortunately, there’s a pathetic man blowing up her phone begging her to come home, which makes me even less likely to drive her there. Finders keepers, asshole.

“So you’re just gonna kidnap and rape me, then?”

Kitty has claws.

She looks up at me after glancing around the room. I’m unsure of what she’s looking for, maybe an escape? Her dark green eyes are completely glossed over and I can hear her heartbeat racing. She’s dripping a few beads of sweat and her sweet pheromones stream out from underneath that shirt.

Although she may claim to not be interested, her body is actually begging for me to touch it. I deeply desire to push my luck, but watching her deny the way she feels is equally as fun.

Intentionally ignoring her question, I push my own agenda.

“Who’s Connor, by the way? He wouldn’t shut up last night, I just about threw your phone deep in the forest to stop listening to the buzzing.”

Immediately, her eyes widen and she turns away from me, like she remembers she has a boyfriend at home and is standing in a stranger’s kitchen with his T-shirt on.

She mumbles out a soft, “Why do you give a fuck?” and stares at the marble countertop, playing with a ring on her index finger.

“I’m just trying to make conversation with the girl I was just knuckle-deep in.”

I brush my fingers through my hair to pull it out of my eyes, cross my left foot over the right and lean backwards deep into the marble countertop.

“Or, here’s a counteroffer: I can take you back to the bedroom and you don’t have to say a word if you’re not interested in talking.”

She smiles slightly, but keeps her pretty eyes away from me. “Ew.”

The quiet fills the air for a few moments and she continues to fiddle with a band around her finger, looking away. Her vibe changes from curious to closed off. I could practically scrape my nails against the imaginary brick wall around her right now.

I roll my eyes, feeling the loss in my chest already. Here it comes, a lack of seconds. I didn’t even get a first with this one.

A girl finally slept in my bed and I didn’t stick my dick in her. Ironic. A beautiful girl, my exact type on paper, stands in front of me and chooses the stupid white-picket-fence guy again.

A bit of rage seeps into my veins and I shove it deep down, the insecurities trying to creep out of my skin. Why do women do this? Am I just a toy to get out of their system and then toss away when the lust wears off?

“Get your clothes in the bathroom, tell me where you live and I’ll drive you there. You should be grateful some other piece of shit on the streets didn’t find you shitfaced last night.” I start to walk away from her, biting at my emotions bubbling up.

The things I would do to just cuddle a girl one time, to be able to set my fury aside and fall in love at some point in my life – I want to quiet the demon of self-hatred in my head and have something real for once.

Sex is great, it’s hot and fulfilling in some ways, but I carry a void in my chest everywhere that I go. I’m trying to fill a true love-sized hole in my heart with pussy.

I’ve never witnessed love, though. Such a funny word. I see it in movies and TV shows, sure. But my parents? Forget it. Whatever they had was the complete opposite of love. My mother won’t look me in the eye anymore, not that I’ve seen her in years to see if she would.

I couldn’t even keep friends around long enough to see them get married or have kids, or get to know them well enough to tell if they even wanted that life. I feel something for my brothers, but that’s not the feeling that I’m waiting for one day.

I’m waiting for someone to fucking get it. I don’t know what it is, but maybe one day, a twisted girl like the one standing in my kitchen will just… get it.

I shake my head and wipe my palm down my face, shoving those feelings back into a bottle at the pit of my stomach where they belong.

My hand digs in my pocket and I place her cellphone onto the counter, snatching my car keys up next to it.

“Go. Get dressed.”

The beep of the car unlocking shocks me back into reality and I carry my heavy legs to it. The dense trees surrounding the property creak slightly with the light breeze going on right now.

I tilt my head back, take a deep inhale and the smell of pine trees and morning dew fills my nose. This is the perfect weather for exactly what you’d expect.

I pull a pack of Marlboros out of my pocket, slide one out and put it into my lips. Patting all across my jeans, I realize my lighter is still in the car and my eyes roll again. God damn it.

What else isn’t going to go my way this morning?

My red 1967 Shelby Mustang glistens in the sunlight, the shadows of the tree branches dancing across the roof of it. I’ve always loved classic cars, ever since I was a kid. Modern cars are so boring now, plus mine already reeked of cigarette smoke when I stole it. Now I don’t feel like I’m fucking ruining it when I spark up.

I open the door and plop into the seat. Nice and clean, thanks to my younger brother who stayed up late detailing it. Tristan would do practically anything for me to look at him longer than six seconds.

Octavia walks out of the front door wearing her clothes from last night. They’re a little risqué for the daytime, but I don’t think she cares that much. She messes with her long black hair, walks over to the car door and swings it open. Her ass slides into the leather seat and she glances over at me, those bright green eyes drawing me in again.

“Spot me a smoke?”

I tilt backward, pull the box out of my front pocket and she leans toward me with slightly parted lips while I carefully place the cigarette in her mouth.

Fuck, those juicy lips.

Finally finding my lighter in the center console, I light both hers and with mine still resting in my teeth, I ask, “Where am I taking you, Kitten?”

“I said stop calling me that.”

“Okay, kitty cat.”

She rolls her eyes and pulls up an address on my phone. I start the engine and she purrs, just like my pretty kitty in the seat next to me would have, if I had my fun with her last night. Her window is rolled down and her hair blows in the wind – it’s a wonderful sight. She looks free.

I don’t get to see any women the morning after, they’ve always snuck out or called an Uber home. I don’t hate this view, really. Is this what the white-picket-fence guys see?

I watch her smile and let the speed of the car drive her wild. She touches the leather around the dash and seat, a smile in her eyes. She likes it, just like I do.

“I didn’t rape you.”

She darts her eyes over to me, a confused and almost disappointed look on her face. She takes another drag of the smoke and tucks her rowdy hair behind her ear.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want a pat on the back for that?” She spits out at me, a playful grin pulling up her cheeks.

“Oh fuck off. You bumped into me on the street, shitfaced and passed out before I could even get you in my car. So, I took you home and cleaned you up. Don’t get me wrong,” I grab my crotch, showing it off to her. “My cock was begging me to do heinous things to you, but I resisted. And that’s not like me.”

She doesn’t say anything, turning to look out the window again.

Okay, Kitty, this predator will bite.

“The first time you feel my cock slide in you, trust me, you’ll want to be awake.”

She shoots me a pissed-off glare, exactly the look I was waiting for, but I can see a small smile creep up her cheeks again out of the corner of my eye. I try to focus on the road while pretending to not sneak secret glances at her.

“Are you gonna tell me your name, Mr. Not-A-Rapist?”

I chuckle lightly.

“Skyler, Skyler Vale.”

“Skyler…” It sounds like she’s tasting my name on her tongue and I feel blood run to my dick. “You’re not too shabby for a guy who kidnaps women.”

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Sassy, I like that.

“Okay, Ms. Sassy, are you gonna tell me who Connor is and why he’s begging for you back?”

I love the banter between us right now.

She giggles, seemingly enjoying it too and I think I’m finally hitting it off with someone, but the smile quickly wipes off her face. There’s a long moment of silence and I think I may have struck a nerve, just as I was starting to do well with her. Fuck, I wish I could punch myself without looking even more odd than I already do.

She rests back in her seat, takes a long drag and sighs.

Hesitantly, she says, “He’s my boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend now, I guess.”

Yep, there it is. Called it.

“And why is your ex-boyfriend blowing up your phone?”

“Last night, we got into a fight and he slapped me across the face, so I kicked him out without thinking twice.”

No…

I punch my foot on the brakes and our bodies fly forward painfully into the dashboard. She screams and we both slam back into our seats as the car comes to a screeching halt.

“Jeez, what the fuck is your problem? It’s not that big of a deal.”

Her sentence stings like a blow to my brain. I can feel the rage building in my chest.

“What did you just say?” My vision starts to blur and adrenaline courses through my veins.

My mother comes into my room after she thought I was asleep and confesses things in my ear. I can smell the dried blood and tears on her face as lays down next to me. I hear the screams and cries through the crack under the door, and see the bruises on my father’s knuckles.

I’m transported to a place I’ve tried so hard to forget, all of it rushing back at an impossible speed. Octavia grabs my shoulder and starts to shake me.

“Move! We’re in the middle of the street!”

I watch my mother crumble under my father’s unforgiving punches, the sound of her head cracking open and bouncing off the floor with every swing. Her skin splitting open and her blood pooling around her is a memory I’ll never forget, no matter how hard I try.

Cars all around us start honking, but I can feel a deep pressure on my gums and the hairs on my neck stand up.

“Get the fuck out.” I practically bark at her.

I don’t bother looking in her direction and stare at the steering wheel in front of me.

“Dude, can you at least pull over?”

She sounds scared and I can hear her heart beating a million times per second, but she’s pretending to be brave. She’s braver than most, already.

I try my best to lightly put my foot back on the gas and pull the car to the side of the road. Gravel crunches underneath the tires and she quickly gets out, slamming the door shut behind her.

“What’s your fucking problem?!”

Her eyes burn at me through the open window. Shit, this is really, really bad timing to have a mental breakdown. My ticker feels like it’s about to pound straight through my ribcage.

I’m fucking up my one chance.

She stomps away from the car, occasionally looks back at me, but picks up her phone to call someone. My fingers are gripping the steering wheel so hard, I’m scared I might rip through it if I squeeze any tighter. The hair on my skin grows thicker and I know I have to go.

I slam my foot on the gas, the tires kicking up a bunch of dirt and rocks towards her and I speed my way to the closest turn.

I have to get out of this car before things go wrong.

The trees surrounding the road are zipping by and I can feel my limbs start to twitch. I see more visions of my father standing over my mother while she begs him to stop, an evil grin on his drunk face as he does it and my foot pushes harder on the pedal.

I want to rip him up here straight from Hell and kill him all over again.

Octavia can get her ass beat by men if she desires, that’s her choice, but I won’t be around to coddle her through it. I can’t fucking support that.

I shut my eyes and see my father lying bloody on the floor, covered in stab wounds and blood seeping onto the tile below him. I can almost feel the knife in my hand again, the wooden handle shaking under my grip. When I open my eyes, all I see is red.

I’m running out of time.

As soon as I see an exit sign, I rip the car onto a backroad and throw it in park, dust flying everywhere around the tires. I sprint as fast as I can into the trees. There are no houses or businesses nearby, thankfully, so I quickly strip all of my clothes off and throw them into my backseat in hopes of not ruining them.

My bones start to break, beginning at my legs and slowly creeping up my back. The pain is unbearable, but I think of my mother – the way she must have felt. The sting of her head against the hard floor, her blood staining the grout a deep shade of red, her brain choosing to be unconscious to hide from the agony.

The hair on my body grows longer and thicker. I scream from the bottom of my lungs as my bones continue to snap and my hands cover my eyes.

My nails sharpen and slowly morph into claws as I fall to my hands and knees, but when I open my eyes, I see paws instead of fingers and toes.

Fuck, why does it take so fucking long?

I shake my head a few times, feel every joint in my body slide around and fuse differently as I scream once more, but this time it’s a wolf howl.

My breaths expand my chest as I pant heavily and my tongue hangs out of my sharp teeth. It’s done, it’s over. Finally, fuck.

Pacing around in circles, I feel my paws dig into the soft dirt below me. I envision Octavia in my mother’s position – getting held down and beaten to an unrecognizable pulp. I envision her coming to lie in bed next to me, her blood on my pillow as she tells me everything is going to be okay.

She’s just a girl from a bar I stumbled into. I shouldn’t give a fuck about her. She’s not different from any other bitch I’ve slept with. I didn’t even sleep with her!

“It’s not that big of a deal.” Her voice echoes in my mind.

I hope she gets hit again and realizes it’s not nothing. It’s what will kill her one day, just like it almost killed my mother. If I hadn’t stepped in, I would’ve buried her body instead of my father’s.

The wind blows in my fur around me and I sprint as fast as I can, skillfully dodging trees and leaping over bushes. It’s euphoric – feeling every muscle in my body launch me forward at this speed. It’s like redlining a car, but your heart is the throttle and there are no fucking brakes.

Slowing down when I reach a clearing in the forest, I howl my heart out and hope that it’s loud enough. I need to talk to my brothers. I’m craving a bloodbath right about now.

A stick breaks and I see an older man in his early forties approach me, naked and soft dick flopping about. Valentine wears a dark brown leather bag around his right thigh that has an elastic band – it survives his transformations, so he has storage in either form. He coughs and brushes his hand through his salt-and-pepper hair as he walks up to me, my head at his nipples, and gives me a pat between my ears.

We sit at about four feet tall on all fours and weigh around two hundred pounds of pure muscle and rage. While you may think wolves this size are cute, we should all wear a “do not pet” vest.

“What’s got you all riled up this early in the day?” Valentine puts his hands on his hips.

There’s a running sound way behind him, followed by a loud crash and a light whimper.

“Still learning to run, Tristan?” Pathetic.

A yellow-blonde wolf walks up slowly behind him. He’s covered in dirt and small leaves, and he sits next to me to lick the side of my face.

“Good to see you too, Skyler.”

I pace in circles around the two of them, unable to sit still.

“Who’s ready to eat some breakfast?”