The Loup Garou of New Orleans

4

Johnny:

"Cheers! To our youngest Ledoux turning 21!" I held up the beer in my hand, toasting my little cousin on his birthday. Boudreaux's was crowded as usual, and my pack took up majority of the space. Setting my beer down on the bar behind me, I let my eyes scan the place as I breathed in deeply through my nose. Booze. Sweat. Stale cigarette smoke. Her. My gaze zeroed in on Sylvie Breaux, her head down as she scrambled to keep up with the crowd. She held a tray above one shoulder, balancing the empty glasses with skill as she headed towards the back. When she neared me, she froze, her eyes shooting to mine. I smiled darkly in her direction. The beast within me purred contentedly as I watched her breath catch. "No..." she whispered. I frowned and moved towards her. She took a hasty step back. "Sylvie..." I called out to her, but she hastily set the tray down on a nearby table and took off through the crowd. I watched her dark head bob and weave as she scurried towards the back exit of the bar. I growled, a little louder than I realized because several patrons turned in shock. It both hurt and angered me that my mate was running from me. Ducking out of the front door and double timing it around back, I cut Sylvie off as she rounded the corner. She gasped and slapped her hand over her chest. "Just me, catin." I rumbled. "I-I'm not you're doll." She stuttered and backed away slowly. I followed. "Why do you run from me?" I asked bluntly. "I... you.. I can't.. Mama-" I cut off her rambling. "I know your Mama would never approve of anything related to Magique, chér, but I'm not sure you know the whole story. Do you remember much about your father, Sylvie?" I asked. It's fine for my Fated to know the truth, to embrace her destiny. She couldn't fight it forever. Sooner or later, it would all catch up to her.