“You can’t treat Saadia like your bitch. She deserves a better man than you.”
“I’m not a man. I’m a werewolf. Or have you forgotten dear brother,” Tracker said as he stepped closer to Damon looking him in the eyes trying to provoke him, reminding him of his status in the family as a beta.
“You’re not even a good werewolf. Look at you,” Damon snapped. “No amount of riding that motorcycle and dressing in those black leathers will make you a man or werewolf.” He flung Tracker’s leather jacket across the room where it rested on the limestone floor.
Tracker’s eyes followed the jacket. He loved that jacket. When Damon touched his jacket it was as if he laid hands on him. Tracker took that as an insult. Damon wanted it to be just that.
“If you’re searching for something you’ve missed it,” Damon said with loud emphasis. “You had your chance with Saadia. Now I want my chance to make her happy.”
Damon stepped back realizing in that moment he had over stepped his bounds and he’s wrong. Not seeking a confrontation but he was just pissed. Damon never one to run from an argument or fight, however, this is different.
They are full grown werewolves. When they were pups, the only thing that might have occurred would be a wounded ego or a torn ear.
“What?” Tracker replied in a threatening stance. His legs wide his eyes steely blue. He stepped up to Damon meeting him eye to eye with a furrowed brow. This time Damon didn’t give ground. There wasn’t space between him and Tracker. Damon’s chest close to Tracker’s where they heard each other’s heart beat.
Watching at Damon’s eyes and body language, Tracker’s eyes boiling with anger. His nostrils flaring. Damon could hear Tracker grit his teeth and he could smell Tracker’s breath.
Tracker broke into laughter. “You want to fuck Saadia?” Tracker said. “That’s what you want little brother. You want to fuck her, have her bend over so you can take her from behind. The way no human female will give it to you. The way I can get it from her?”
Damon shuddered with contempt. He flexed his hands. His breathing grew loud.
Turning his back still laughing at Damon Tracker strode to the fridge, opened it, and looked around for something to eat. He found fresh lamb. Picking up a piece of the thigh and leg, breaking and tearing it with his hands, he took a large bite. The blood dripped on the counter. He reached for a paper towel and wiped his mouth and then the counter. Then he watched at Damon as sweat dropped from his nose. It was a sign that he was angry. Downright pissed at Tracker and Tracker knew it and shot him a wide closed grin.
“Did you get a boner every time you got near her thinking about putting your cock in her? Well dream on little brother. You’ll never get a chance to smell her. She’s mine.”
Glaring at Tracker was all he could do for now. He turned away and moved back near the cabinets. He hopped up on the counter and sat there. His eyes never leaving Tracker.
Would he admit to Tracker something that had been obvious to everyone but Saadia? No he wouldn’t be pulled into Tracker’s game. He calmed and took a deep breath. Tracker would enjoy Damon admitting he wished he could sleep with Saadia, and make love to her outside under the stars and in listening distance of Tracker. Those were his intentions and Tracker knew it without him admitting anything.
Damon wished Saadia would give him a chance where he could punish Tracker for his arrogance and ill treatment of her. Make Tracker work for Saadia for once.
“I see it in your eyes. You don’t have to admit it,” Tracker said breaking into another round of laughter. “You can’t fuck her because she won’t let you,” Tracker said his voice energetic and cheerful.
Moving around the kitchen isle and standing in front of Damon as he sat on the counter, Tracker took another opportunity to laugh at Damon. He moved away from Damon realizing that Damon had the high ground. Damon bounded to the floor to leave before the unimaginable occurred in their parent’s home. But Tracker stood blocking the door.
Every time Tracker took a bite of food he let out a chuckle and watched at Damon squirm and pace back and forth looking down, and then up at Tracker with a grim expression. Then Damon’s thick eyebrows made a V over his deep blue eyes.
Damon stopped pacing and glared at Tracker.
“I don’t want to fuck her. I want to make love to her.” Tracker stopped chewing on the lamb.
“You would. Have you used that brain for anything other than to interfere in my life?” Tracker laid the half eaten leg on the counter and peered at Damon.
“Unlike you, I don’t use my dick for my brain,” Damon said. And Damon stepped away from Tracker.
“When I fuck her, there is no one but me. And there never will be anyone but me,” Tracker said with a threatening tone.
He strolled behind Damon. Damon watched to the side although he knew Tracker was there. He didn’t like being approached from behind, and Tracker knew it and continued stalking Damon. Damon turned realizing how close and intimidating Tracker made his approach. Yet Damon refused to yield to his Alpha.
“That’s because she can’t see anyone but you,” Damon said turning with a jerk, “but I intend to open her eyes. I plan to take her from you. Go ahead, leave town and when you come back she will be mine,” Damon said. He didn’t mean for it to come out like that. But it was out and he couldn’t take it back.
“I could leave her a hundred years and come back to Samsaville and she would fall into my bed before she fell into yours. She would fall to her knees and I would give her my cock to suck and she would do it gladly.” Tracker poked Damon on the arm.
Damon looked down at Tracker’s hand and Tracker looked down at him and said, “Look at you. You know nothing about females. I know about females and she’s not for you because I have my brand on her,” Tracker said.
“You appear a little unsure of yourself,” Damon said. “If she was yours and you had her all locked up then why would you take the time to argue with me?” Tracker raised one right eyebrow. Damon knew he was getting to Tracker. This war of words led to something neither one wanted or could avoid.
They stood toe to toe and eye to eye. Two handsome strong willed werewolf brothers with barely any noticeable differences in their looks. Both wanting the same female. Both sporting tattoos on their muscular chests and arms.
Damon getting his tattoos after seeing his big brother’s and after their father and mother forbid Tracker to do it.
Now they’re behaving like strangers and threatening to come to blows over one female. Something their father and uncles had railed against since they were young. “Never fight your brother over females,” Lycell warned them. “That’s a good way to get expelled from this pack. Share her if you have to, Lycell had said. “You can find one anywhere. You can’t find a brother’s loyalty everywhere.”
Damon wondered how that had worked out with Lycell’s brothers sharing his mother. There appeared to be tension all the time.
Now it was the case of Damon and Tracker. Tracker would never share Saadia. Tracker didn’t share. It was all or nothing with him. None of the Samsa men would share their females. Only the first generation of Samsa werewolves did this and that was for a noble reason.
The next generation had no cause to engage in this practice. There were enough pups being born to ensure the Samsa pack would flourish and control werewolves in the Americas and Europe for a hundred years or more.
When Tracker said, “I’ll fuck her tonight before I get on the road and all you’ll have to keep you warm is to curl up with your dogs, but they can’t give you what you need. You need a female and I don’t see any interested in you. Not even Robert’s girls want anything to do with you. I could have them all if I wanted,” Tracker said with a smirk and a wink.
It was those last words by Tracker when Damon lost it. Without Tracker realizing what was happening, Damon had shifted. He was the one son of Lycell’s six sons who never gave a signal when he was angry enough to shift.
His shift came about rapid and smooth. His powerful arms broke through the cotton shirt and it dropped in front of him as his jeans shredded from the movement of his thighs.
Damon’s hands changed into two powerful paws with razor sharp claws in preparation of fighting his Alpha, his brother. He struck Tracker hard across the face. Tracker’s lip broke and blood trickled from it. At the same time he struck, he ripped into Tracker’s arm with his large incisors leaving a long scar and blood trailing down pass his fingers on to the floor.
Tracker’s eyes grew wide with surprise. He glanced at his arm as Lycell entered the kitchen.
“What the fuck is going on?” He scanned Damon and then Tracker, Damon’s tee-shirt torn, blood dripping down on the floor pooling at Tracker’s feet. Damon’s mouth filled with blood from Tracker. Tracker didn’t say a word he was stunned. Maybe he was in shock.