Predator

An Intoxicating Scent

A/N: Hello Everyone! I've been working on this short story for a while now, but have been so busy that I couldn't dedicate much time to it. I've finally finished it though and I'll be posting within the span of the next few weeks. Please let me know what you think!

The taste of blood still lingers on my teeth and lips. I moan as I lick at it, eager to have more. How did my life come to this? Dependent on the thrill of the kill. I couldn't help myself. My human side would argue with my wolf, trying to make him feel some sort of compassion. Telling him not to do it and that it isn't right. But in the end, it's my wolf that always wins. He is the devil on my shoulder. He is a predator. He needs to kill. He longs for it.

Even now as I stand in the middle of the woods. The moon shines bright and full above, intensifying my wolf's cravings to hunt.

I know I must submit to him at times, especially under the moon. It makes me sick but I can't keep him bottled up. If I do, his desires increase. His appetite intensifies. His rage builds up so much that it will eventually burst on the slightest temptation.

I would be powerless against his repressed impulses and that could get an innocent person killed...

It has gotten an innocent person killed...

As a result of learning from my past mistakes; I frequently take very long walks, or even a run, depending on how I feel, out to the middle of the woods that surround my house. I go to where no one else could possibly be around. And I hunt.

I hunt anything that satisfies my wolf's blood lust. Deer, rabbit, beaver, rodent. Even bird. Whatever I can catch and sink my teeth into, I let my wolf take it's life.

It keeps him at bay enough to where I can control him comfortably and not have to worry about his hunger becoming too strong that he lashes out again.

My wolf's whining pulls me from my thoughts. He's waiting for me to open his cage inside my mind and let him out to play. He wants me to willingly grant him his little bit of freedom to use the body we share.

I, reluctantly, begin to give him the control he wants so that he may ease his urge to kill. This process takes some time, though. I do it slowly that way he understands that between us, I am the dominant one. That when he is in charge of our body, it is because I allow it.

My ears are the first to shift. They can sense all the different sounds of the woods from miles away. The running water of the nearby stream. The rustling leaves as the wind rushes past them. The chattering of animals that have not found sleep yet.

I listen to my surroundings, focusing my hearing on what creatures are here with me tonight. Figuring out which ones will not be here by morning.

I then let my wolf take control of my nose, a sensational intake of all the various scents flood my nostrils. I smell the family of bunnies a mile from my left, the badgers resting 30 ft to my right, a few deer walking away a few miles behind me, and...

What's that? I quirk my head as a new smell touches my nose. I hear my wolf whine louder as I take a deeper inhale of the intoxicating, familiar scent that we haven't been around in what feels like ages. It smells wonderful. Not like any animal that is my usual prey. No. It emanates a variety of delectable odors that no animal can mimic.

I can smell the Old Spice Pure Sport body wash he uses that contrasts with the Axe Shock body spray he wears. I can detect the smell of pizza he ate for dinner, lingering in his breath. The salt from his sweat coating his body. The Tide and Downy that he no doubt uses to clean his clothes. Except for his sweatshirt that has his specific, boyish scent embedded into it.