A Black Werewolf in Texas

"Wild dogs," Sheriff Dale cried out, and then the radio fell silent. I paced back and forth in my little cell, wondering how long these small-town hicks were going to keep me locked up. Seriously, I wanted, no, needed to get the fuck out of Ranger's Hollow. Yoshida and his cronies wouldn't take long to find me here. A werewolf's senses can track prey across huge distances...

"Hey, Omar, that sounds urgent, maybe you should call your replacement to come in so you can go check it out?" I suggested, and Omar shot me a look. I raised my hands and smiled. Seriously, bro, I'm just trying to be helpful, I thought. Omar paced back and forth, and he took out his cell phone and even tried to call Sheriff Dale on it, but couldn't reach her...

"We're a really small town, lady, there's only four of us, and Deputy Leander is on vacation in Dallas for the next three days, and Deputy Vincent is hospitalized," Omar said, somewhat angrily, and I looked at him. Suddenly it dawned on me how much shit this poor sap and his colleague were in. Damn, and I thought I had problems. Outside, a wolf howled, and my heart sank...

"Damn wolves have been getting on my nerves lately," Omar said, and I shook my head. Mortals are wonderful creatures, but they're so limited. To untrained ears, a werewolf's howl and a normal wolf's howl sound the same, but not to mine. I know my species, at least give me credit for that one. A second howl joined the first one, and my inner werewolf threatened to burst out of me...

"Those aren't wolves, Omar, you need to let me out," I said, and Omar ignored me, then went to look outside. The howls came closer, and it sounded like there were a lot more than two. Shit, I was expecting Yoshida and his gal Friday, Nubia the black female werewolf, but no suck luck. The surly Japanese werewolf who'd hated me for ages had gone and gotten some reinforcements...

"Wild dogs, Sheriff Dale was just talking about that, must be a ravenous pack in town," Omar said, and he pulled his pistol out of its holster and cocked it. I closed my eyes, feeling like one of those people trapped in a movie where the serial killer or monster or creature and the stupid cops refuse to heed my warnings. Dammit, is Omar trying to get himself killed like the black dude in practically every horror movie? Sorry, but you know I'm right...

"Omar, those things outside aren't wild dogs, or normal wolves, they're werewolves, and they're here for me," I said, and Omar turned and looked at me like I had two heads. I sighed, and then broke the first and only rule that all werewolves, the golden ones and the mundane ones, actually live by. Mortals cannot know about us. Well, to hell with that...

"Behold," I said, and I willed the transformation to occur. It could only occur partially, since the full moon hasn't risen yet. My eyes turned pitch black, and my teeth became fangs, and suddenly, I became a tad bit hairier than your average female will ever be. Omar stared at me, looking like he was ready to piss his pants, or faint, or something...

"Par le ciel, un monstre," Omar said, in admirable French, and I smiled at him, not the most reassuring gesture on my part, but I had to commend him for not doing the things mortals usually do when facing the supernatural. This brother was alright. In fact, if Omar opens the door and lets me out, I just might have some fun with him, assuming we live through this...

"Emmanuelle, we know you're in here," came Yoshida's voice, and my blood ran cold. Outside, the howling instantly ceased. Omar looked at me, as if questioning his own ears. I nodded, letting him know that I'd heard the man's voice as well. Omar went to the window, and much to my surprise, he opened it just a bit, which was definitely ill-advised...

"Whoever they are, I think they want to negotiate," Omar said, and I shook my head, and pleaded with him to let me out. I inadvertently morphed back into my human form. That's one of a few weaknesses of my species. We can partially transform in moments of danger, but we cannot sustain it. The full moon is like a battery, super charging us. While it rests in the sky, we can stay morphed and free for hours...

"Omar, get away from the window," I pleaded, and he ignored me. Outside, Yoshida laughed, and I saw him standing perhaps ten meters from the window, and he wasn't alone. Flanked by Nubia and a couple of others whom I didn't know, the Japanese werewolf held Sheriff Dale by the throat, and upon seeing that, Omar just about lost his mind.

"You've got a choice to make, officer, I just want Emmanuelle, give her to me and I will return your boss, and let you both live," Yoshida said, and Sheriff Dale whimpered as he playfully licked her face with his prehensile werewolf's tongue. Ah, the benefits of partial transformation. I looked at Omar and he looked at me. The brother shook his head and sighed, and I closed my eyes, hard. For I knew what was coming...

"We don't negotiate with terrorists," Sheriff Dale cried out, and Yoshida smacked her, hard. That's when Omar drew his pistol and shot Yoshida twice in the chest. Howling in pain, Yoshida went down. As soon as he let go of her, Sheriff Dale made a run for the door. Omar swung the door open to let her in, but unfortunately, the good sheriff wasn't alone...

"Hello again, bitch," Nubia said, and the Amazon-like African-American female werewolf stepped into the building, a gun in each hand. The injuries she'd sustained during her last fight with me had healed, just as I expected. Omar aimed at her but Nubia was much, much faster. The bitch shot him twice in the chest. Omar fell to the floor, and lay still...

"That's what you get for shooting my pack leader," Nubia said, and a moment later, Yoshida walked in, his wounds already healing, and his acolytes flanked him, guns at the ready. A tall, red-haired white female in her early thirties and a towering, long-haired Native American guy, both of them armed to the teeth, with guns filled with silver bullets. Dammit, this time, Yoshida did come prepared...

"Thank you, Nubia, when we're done killing Emmanuelle and removing the Strain of the Golden Ones from the lycanthrope gene pool, you can have her pelt," Yoshida said, and Nubia purred like a kitten, and aimed her gun at me. I looked at Omar Robillard who lay there, his eyes closed, and sighed. The only man who'd been kind to me in recent memory had fallen, and it was my fault...

"You're going to pay for that," I said, and I looked at Yoshida, who smiled, and then I watched, amazed, as Sheriff Dale picked up Omar's fallen pistol, and handed it to him. I gasped in surprise, and Sheriff Dale smiled, and then, amazingly, she kissed Yoshida on the lips. I was surprised, for many reasons. Firstly, I thought the good sheriff played for the other team. Secondly, what the fuck?

"Sheriff Dale here is one of my recruits, she's got cancer, you see, and we offered her a deal, she becomes one of us and lives eternally young and strong if she gives you up," Yoshida said, and Sheriff Dale nodded. Nubia smiled wickedly, and Yoshida winked at her. Next thing I knew, Nubia morphed, and bit Sheriff Dale savagely, drawing blood. The policewoman howled, and Yoshida laughed.

"Welcome to the club, redneck woman, now, let's finish the golden bitch," Nubia said to a fainting Sheriff Dale, and she flicked her tongue over her curving fangs. Yoshida nodded, and next thing I knew, every gun in the room was trained on me. I was toast, unless a miracle happened. Outside, the full moon rose, and I willed myself to transform. It was now or never...

"Shoot the bitch," Yoshida cried out, and then he stopped abruptly, as the light of the moon shone through the building windows, bathing every person present. Immediately Yoshida began to transform, as did everyone else. Almost fully transformed, I hurled myself against the bars, and tried to smash through the steel rods. Even when fully transformed, there are limits to my strength...

"Emmanuelle, I got you," Omar said weakly, and he opened his eyes, and jiggled his keys, which were on his belt. I took the keys and fumbled with them as my hands morphed into a wolf's paws, and somehow, I managed to open them. Once out, I paused to look at Omar, who lay in a pool of his own blood. His chest rose and fell weakly, and I knew he wasn't far from death...

"Thank you," I said, and I launched myself at my enemies. As a golden werewolf, I am much larger and stronger than your average werewolf. That's why the mundane werewolves hate my kind. We are to them what a wolf is to a coyote. We're superior in every way. Only through sheer numbers have these bozos manage to overwhelm us...

"Die, bitch!" Nubia bellowed, and she morphed into a magnificent, sleek she-wolf with ebony fur and bright yellow eyes. I roared and came at her, and this time I went for her throat and not her chest. Nubia lashed out at me, her claws swiping dangerously close to my face, but with my superior speed I dodged her. When I struck, Nubia wasn't fast enough, and I caught her on the skull, crushing her brains...

"You first, bitch," I said to Nubia's corpse, and Yoshida roared and came at me, flanked by a brown-coated werewolf and one with a sleek, silvery pelt. Caterwauling and leaping here and there, I waded into my enemies. They came at me like the pack animals our species progenitors probably were, but I was no beast of prey. As a fully transformed Golden One, the very peak of werewolf evolution, I could have taken on a Nile crocodile, or an African lion...

"Your strain will die with you," Yoshida cried out as he leapt at me, and I looked at the caramel-hued, muscular yet sleek werewolf as he came at me, fangs bared and claws extended. I lashed out with a single massive paw, my seven-inch claws being strong enough to crack open a U.S. Army tank like a can of sardines. I decapitated Yoshida with one blow. His head and body fell in opposite directions...

"Have mercy on us," said the silver werewolf, backing down slowly, and when I looked into her eyes, I recognized the blonde-haired woman who accompanied Yoshida earlier. The last two remaining werewolves backed down into submissive postures. They looked at me plaintively. I wasn't fooled for a minute. These wretches have been hunting my kind for ages, overwhelming us through sheer numbers. Fangs bared, I came at them, and showed no mercy...

"Emmanuelle," came a voice, and I turned around, to see Omar Robillard was still alive, though barely. The handsome black policeman's khaki uniform was soaked with blood. I looked at him and saw no fear in his eyes. Whenever I assume my true form, the few mortals who glimpse at me hate and fear me on sight, for they know I'm unnatural. Omar actually patted me on the nose, like a man would pat his dog...

"Don't speak, Omar, you've lost a lot of blood, I'll call an ambulance," I said, as I forced myself to resume my human form. When you're a werewolf and the full moon is up, trying to stay in human form is like trying not to take a crap when you've had some seriously bad sushi and you've been holding it in for hours. It's uncomfortable as hell and your body most definitely lets you know it...

"You're beautiful, such a magnificent creature," Omar Robillard said, and he smiled, then began to fade. I looked at him, and wondered what to do. I haven't known this mortal for long, only twenty four hours, but his kindness and bravery have touched my heart. If he hadn't freed me from the cage, Yoshida, Nubia, that treacherous bitch Sheriff Dale and the other two would have killed me...

"You're too unique for me to let you die, hope you won't hate me when you wake up," I said, and I took Omar's arm, and bit into it. Gently, just a nip. That's all it took, almost a century and a half ago, when Blair Bineau seduced me and bit me, turning me into the rarest of werewolves against my will. I hated the bastard for it, and actually rejoiced when I heard that the mundane werewolves had gotten him. Would Omar feel the same way when he woke up?

"Oh fuck, I feel strange," Omar said, and I watched as he opened his eyes and looked around, then clutched his chest where, mere moments ago, there were bullet wounds. Now the wounds were gone. Omar looked at me, and I waited silently, bracing myself for his reaction. Becoming a werewolf is a traumatic experience for most people. How is this Haitian-American cop and all-around do-gooder going to react to this most severe of changes?

"Welcome to a whole new world," I said to Omar, and I offered him a hand, and pulled him to his feet. Last night, he did as much for me. Tonight, I'm helping him. Karma is a funny thing, I guess. Omar stood solidly on his feet, and looked at the carnage in the Ranger's Hollow Sheriff's Department. There were corpses all over, and one of the bodies was stirring...

"Treacherous bitch, I ought to kick your ass," Omar said, and he looked at Sheriff Dale, who was slowly rising to her feet, then at me. The sheriff's eyes shone bright yellow, and I could tell she was well into the change. I nodded, for I knew what to do. Picking up one of Yoshida's fallen guns, I cocked it and then I casually shot Sheriff Jennifer "Dale" Dalton in the forehead with a silver bullet. The tall policewoman-turned-nascent-werewolf fell and lay still, this time for good...

"It's done, only silver can kill us, because we're werewolves, Omar, that's what we are, you and I, do you understand?" I asked, and Omar looked at me and nodded. I paused, and tried to explain to him that his old life was over. There's a civil war going on between the Golden Ones, turbo-charged and super-strong werewolves like myself, and the mundane ones, ordinary werewolves who hate us and fear our power...

"Am I going to become a Golden One too?" Omar asked, and he felt his teeth with his fingers, which I found comical. I smiled and nodded, and for some reason, I drew closer to him. For Omar was already changing, and the brother smelled less and less like a human male and more like a Golden One, the strongest and most powerful of all werewolves...one of my own kind.

"Oh, you already are," I replied, and I looked at Omar, whose eyes turned pitch black, and his teeth grew longer and sharper. The moon bathed the tall, handsome black policeman in its light, speeding his transformation. Omar had always been handsome but now he looked simply...magnificent. I drew closer to him, drawn to him by a most primal need, then I paused.

"Thank you for this gift," Omar said, his voice deepening, and then he grabbed me and kissed me. I kissed him back, and embraced him with all of my might. The woman in me wanted the strong and caring man he was, and my inner werewolf was reacting to his presence as an alpha male werewolf. We tumbled on the bloodied floor, and made love among the corpses of our enemies...

"Make me yours," I whispered as Omar kissed me, and caressed my breasts, and I welcomed his touch, both as woman and as wolf. I shuddered as he lapped away at my breasts with a tongue longer and much more prehensile than any ordinary man's tongue could ever be. When he spread my thighs apart, and began licking my pussy, I closed my eyes and surrendered to the intense, pleasurable sensation.

"Oh yes, you are mine," Omar grumbled, and he took me on all fours, gripping my hips tightly as he thrust that hard, dark dick of his straight into me. I clenched my vaginal muscles around his dick, loving the feel of him inside of me. I felt Omar's claws dig into my hips, and welcomed the bittersweet pain. I howled in pleasure as he fucked me with slow, deep strokes. When he smacked my rather thick bum and pinched my nipples, I cried out, absolutely loving the deliciously hot pain.

"Thank you," I whispered, hours later, as I lay on top of Omar, after riding the hell out of his dick. Omar and I lay there, surrounded by dead men and women, and as the sun rose, our werewolf forms faded, leaving us human, albeit temporarily. Omar kissed me on the forehead, a tender gesture best reserved for lovers who'd known each other forever, but I welcomed it. For it had been over a century since I'd been with one of my own kind...

"We're going to have to leave, there will be too many questions," Omar said, and I nodded in agreement. I got dressed, and so did he. We exited town, in Omar's old pickup truck, and hit the road. Twenty four hours ago, I came to this town, pursued by my enemies, and I was damn near death. Right now, I feel refreshed and happy for the first time in, well, forever...

"Sounds like a plan, Mr. Robillard, the whole world is ours, we are after all the only ones of our kind, against mundane werewolves and hostile humans," I said wistfully, and Omar looked at me and smiled. Clad in a black leather jacket over a red silk shirt, blue jeans and boots, with a cowboy hat on, the brother looked good. Really good. I think becoming a werewolf agrees with him, and it's a wonderful thing...

"Sounds like a challenge, Emmanuelle, I like those," Omar said cockily, and I smiled and playfully slapped his thigh. Omar laughed, and then turned on the radio station. The local news were awash with experts and lawmen and others commenting about the rash of attacks on law enforcement this week, first at the hotel in Marionville, and now at the sheriff's office in Ranger's Hollow. Abruptly, Omar changed the station...

"Oh damn, you like country music," I said, laughing, as the lyrics to Cowboy Troy's Cowboy Stomp came on the radio, and Omar Robillard started singing along like his life depended on it. Omar winked at me and shrugged, and I rolled my eyes. Seriously, he's really into that stuff, and I don't know why I'm surprised...

For over a century, I wondered what it would be like to have a companion, someone to share eternity with...and I went and got myself a sexy Haitian-American cop/werewolf who likes country music. I smiled at Omar and started nodding to the rhythm of the song, which was quite fun and energetic, actually.

Yes, the handsome and charismatic do-gooder known as Mr. Robillard is alright. If he insists on listening to country music, I'll have to teach him La Marseillaise one of these days. As the truck barrels down the bumpy road, I smile at my new companion, energized by his sunny disposition. We've got werewolves and cops after us, and Omar is still cheerful and optimistic. Cool guy, with a cute ass, too. Looks like Omar and I are going on a grand adventure. Life is definitely full of surprises, isn't it?