Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Silve Flash: Scent of a Wolf #1

Happy Wednesday! Hump Day, which means it's time for another bit of flash fiction, brought to you by the friendly authors at Silver Publishing! This week's prompts are all courtesy of our lovely leader/Prompt Diva Ryssa Edwards:  "We can't let this continue." or Use the following elements in your story:  a rainy day, an all you can eat cheeseburger buffet, a bulletin board with only two words on it

This week, because the prompts didn't work out with Lust Never Sleeps, I started something new, but never fear - Darryl and Sawyer return next week! This week, meet Jareth and Cameron in The Scent of a Wolf. I hope you enjoy it!

Scent of a Wolf #1

Cameron Lowell turned up the collar of his light-weight jacket. He knew it wouldn’t help. Water seeped inside anyway, dripping down his neck, chilling him. He didn’t mind getting wet, not if it was a good honest warm rain, but this cold drizzle stole into his bones and only served to plaster his long red hair against his skull. Definitely not a good look for him. It had all begun when he’d walked past the bulletin board which served as information central for his dorm. He’d glanced at it from habit—his restless mind demanded a constant influx of new data to process in an attempt to offset boredom. As he glanced through the assortment of ads which ranged from the ridiculous to the inane, everything changed before his eyes. He watched as every single word on every single note on the corkboard arranged and rearranged itself, until only two words remained—beef feast. Words that only he could see, but he knew what they meant, and he could do nothing less than obey the beast within which demanded that he be fed. Being a poor college student meant he had to seize every opportunity which presented itself to him. And this was one of the best.

Marco Polo’s was running its on-again off-again catch-it-when-you-can all-you-can-eat cheeseburger buffet. Like catnip tossed to a cat. Like a red flag waved before a bull. Like a piece of meat thrown at a hungry dog. That latter analogy was the closest to the truth, although Cameron was no dog and he’d be insulted if you even insinuated such a thing.

No, Cameron was a self-respecting werewolf. A great deal of difference between the two.

And if he had to run the risk of getting his fur wet—figuratively, not literally, as it wasn’t the night of the full moon—in order to satisfy the hunger of the beast within, then so be it.

There was one advantage to this infernal drizzle—it discouraged a great deal of the mindless throng who would otherwise be crowding him off the sidewalk. Not that Cameron was one to let himself be pushed around. But his innocuous appearance belied what he truly was—a werewolf of the greatest magnitude. Someone not to fuck with. Despite the pale complexion, the ridiculously long hair, and the soft dark chocolate eyes. You messed with this lone wolf at your own peril.

He could smell it before he approached it—the scent of cooking meat. Personally, he’d a penchant for having his meat raw, but he could certainly enjoy it in its various incarnations, from rare to medium-rare to medium. Anything more than that was burnt in his book, and therefore inedible. Meat fit only to be thrown to the dogs.

Pun definitely intended.

The aroma slapped him in the face when he opened the door, following his nose quite happily into the interior, his stomach making happy growling noises.


The building was composed of weathered brick, sandwiched in between others of its kind, nothing to distinguish it from its brethren. Lying as it did in the heart of the downtown area, it was perfect for business purposes.  Its proximity to the vast array of restaurants which spanned the adjoining blocks assured that no one who worked within walking distance would ever have reason to starve. Even the pickiest of gourmands could find food to his liking.

There was nothing on the three-story building itself to indicate its current tenant, but on the frosted glass of the faded green door letters had been etched which also gave no clue as to what business entity resided therein. Solarism Inc. Nothing more.

The man who emerged, briefcase in hand as he carefully locked the door behind himself and his companion, seemed out of place. He could have easily held his own on a business GQ cover, and still have stood out. Impeccably dressed in a grey-checked business seat, complete to gloves, he drew attention simply by existing. His jet black hair was immaculately coifed, every hair in place. He ran a quick hand over it, but the gesture was unnecessary, simply born of habit. His dark eyes were intent, almost to the point of being humorless, and his pale lips did nothing to dispel the illusion, not being upturned in any sort of a smile.

His companion was a marked contrast to his darkness. Dirty blonde hair with bronze tips, warm brown eyes and a ready smile, he was more casually garbed. More in tune with his surroundings.  “My sister keeps asking about you, Jareth.”

Jareth Hammond grimaced in annoyance as he stepped out into the lightly falling rain. The weeping clouds obscured all signs of the sun, giving the appearance that it was much later in the day than it truly was. “Of all the days to not bring an umbrella,” he muttered, half to himself, as the two men fell into step together. “What was that, Shaw? Oh yes, your sister. You know that she holds no appeal for me. At least you should by now. Tell her something that will satisfy her apparent need to couple with me, and get her off my case, will you please?”

“Like what? You’re getting married?” Shaw Cross couldn’t resist needling the other man. It was just too easy to get his goat. Mr. Serious.

“I didn’t say lie, now did I? Be gentle, but make it clear I’m not avail—“

Shaw waited for the rest of that word. When it wasn’t forthcoming, he glanced toward Jareth. The man seemed transfixed, nose up, inhaling intensely.

“What the hell’s got into you?” he asked, watching in amazement as the normally staid businessman seemed about to burst with something.

Jareth’s pace increased; Shaw had to trot to keep up. His eyes looked almost glazed. Was that the beginning of a smile?

Abruptly he stopped, Shaw almost running into him.

“Here!” he announced, pointing at a small restaurant before them.

Marco Polo, the window read.

 to be continued

Don't forget to check out the other fearless Flashers:

Sui Lynn     m/m
Ryssa Edwards     m/m
Catriana Somers     m/m
Lily Sawyer         m/m
Victoria Blisse      m/f
Chris Quinton       m/m
Freddy McKay     m/m

Hope  you enjoy our weekly offerings! Have ideas? Suggestions? Comments? Feel free to leave them, we'd love to hear from you!

Until next time, take care!

♥ Julie


  1. Okay, that was just mean to end like that. lol Yes, I definitely want more of this one.

  2. Lol when the timer says 1000 words, what can you do? I could blabber on all day!

    Thanks, West, glad you like it!

  3. nice beginning. I like the way your writing flows.

  4. Thanks, Lily! Glad you like it! You'll be seeing more of these guys!