To Escape a Possessive Mate

True Colors

It was difficult to tell the difference between Vincent and Jason.  Right now they were both in their wolf forms, fighting in what appeared to be an angry ball of fluff.  I know that Jason’s wolf form is a lot larger than Vincent’s, and his fur should be a little lighter since his hair is.  But right now, because the only light that allows me to see is the fire, I can’t tell which wolf is which.

The wolves were snarling at each other and biting and clawing.  One of them kept swiping, actually slashing the other’s face, making it yelp with pain.

And now, thanks to Jason, I was so frickin’ confused!  I kissed Vincent!  On my own free will!  And it felt... satisfactory.

That’s the word I can use to describe it.  It was a nice kiss, but I didn’t feel that giant spark that the movies all say that I’m supposed to feel.  Instead, I felt something more like a dull pulse in my core.  It was almost as if, instead of the atomic bomb I was meant to experience, I wound up having something similar to the intensity of a firefly.

And here’s Vincent, my firefly fighting Jason, the wolf that I had previously chosen to have as my mate.  Truth is, I still have this desire to run off and just live without any werewolves in my life, but after kissing Vincent…maybe I could keep him as a pet or something.

The wolves were now circling one another, like in one of those bro offs.  I could now tell who was who, thanks to Jason’s significantly bulkier form.  He made Vincent look like a twig, it was so striking.

Vincent snarled and bared his teeth at Jason.  He was the one who had been slashed in the face.  There was gnarly  looking scar on his face, starting at his forehead, running over his right eye, and ending on his cheek.  Every now and then, he’d shift his glance over to me and gently cock his head to the side, telling me to get out of there.

But I didn’t want to.  I could lie and say I was concerned about the welfare of the men fighting over me, but in reality, the fight was pretty entertaining.

I shook my head at him and firmly planted my feet on the ground.

Vincent rolled his eyes, his right one bloodshot from being injured.  Then I noticed that he was carefully moving his stance in a circle, which made Jason move so that he stood facing him.  Vincent kept maneuvering, coming closer and closer to me, until he stood directly in front of me.

Vincent let out a low growl and shifted his stance so that instead of being in stack form, he was in defense form.

Vincent was shielding me!

Or another way of looking at it was that he was preventing Jason from taking me away.  I guess it all depends on the outlook one has.

Jason realized Vincent’s motive and bared his teeth in response.  Then he sprung from where he was, launching himself in the air.  Vincent barely had time to react and was tackled to the ground.  The two struggled against one another until Jason’s weight was on Vincent’s, keeping him pinned.

Jason leaned down closer to Vincent’s face, growling.  Then he made other sounds, as if his words were being spoken in some kind of werewolf language that I was incapable of deciphering.  Vincent’s eyes widened and he turned his head briefly to look at me, a slight whimper escaping from him.