My Possessive And Sexy Werewolf

Yep he's here... with me...

I am surprised by his honesty. And again I hold my hand up, making the pack's signal. 

This time when he strides over to me, I shrink away. The uncertainty of what he will do next frightens me.

He holds his hand by my hand, I flinch away wondering if he'll hit me. I look up at him, and when I do, he makes a small hand gesture. 

I gasp and hold my hand to my mouth. I recognize this movement as the old pack. 

"There's a long story about this pack you come from, do you know it?" He asks.

Wary of this stranger, I weigh the pros and cons of telling him anything. But decide to leave speaking for later and instead just  shake my head, intrigued by what he may tell me next.

Now the only thing on my mind is what the story could possibly be about. Could it be about our history? How old is this werewolf? He looks to be only a few years older than I and still looking better than anyone his age could ever hope to look like.

He pulls a chair out of nowhere and gestures for me to sit down. He sits down in front me, in another chair he pulls from somewhere, and leans in close, his eyes taking on a dark hue. 

"Well then how about I just tell you? No harm in doing that, now is there?" I shake my head warily. Is this man to be trusted? How do I know he isn't just feeding me lies? I needed to get out of here ASAP. Where even was here??

He leans back in his chair, arms behind his head, looking at me smugly. Suddenly, his eyes change to a familiar golden light for a split second that I know all too well. He grins at me devilishly from his chair. 

"Ah I see now. ...so you are the famous werewolf all the others talk about?" I tense, does he mean he sensed my werewolf's scent? I need to work on getting a perfume to mask my scent from now on. Hopefully one that wouldn't give me a headache with these heightened senses.

"Yes, I have heard a great deal of stories about you. Of course, most of the werewolves you will encounter are not as friendly as I." 

He smirks, and stretches his hands out to the sides. I don't understand what that means either. 

Suddenly, I feel a dark presence behind me, and there's no one in the chair in front of me. Strong arms wrap around my torso and a squeak slips it's way past my lips. The deep rumbling returns, as though a giant kitten is right behind me. I try to get free, but when he wraps his arms around me, my arms pinned to my sides in the process. 

Suddenly, the chair and I are both lifted into the air. I almost scream, but choke it back. I will not give him the satisfaction.

I kick uselessly, as he crosses the room with the chair and I. When he reaches towards the doorknob, he takes one hand away. I understand I need to take advantage of this. It's now or never before he hauls me to who knows where.  

As he reaches towards the doorknob, my one arm is no longer pinned to my side. It happens to be my left arm, my strong arm, which I am grateful for. 

I bite into his forearm, exposing my canine teeth viciously. I sink my teeth into his arm, I bite hard, but not hard enough to draw blood. Werewolves have tough skin, but if we share blood, we will be each other's significant other. And I am definitely not wanting to be his at all. Especially since he must have kidnapped me or something super crazy like that. 

Hmm... maybe he was the one who stole Voldemort's nose.... just a second let me discuss this with myself....