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don't let me bleed

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Being a werewolf was hard, anyone with half a brain knew that. Being a werewolf in a band was even harder, but that was a lesson that took Lindsey years to figure out.

When she joined the band she'd been young and arrogant, an Alpha bitch without a Pack to call her own, and it'd made her reckless. The band had been all human, except for her, and she was a Wolf, a predator, and they were beneath her. She loved what they were doing with their music, and so they formed an uneasy truce.

You couldn't be with the band and not let your guard down, though. They all had a way of getting under her skin, drawing her close, making her laugh, and Lindsey had a hard time remembering that they weren't Pack. And if they weren't Pack, they meant nothing to her.

At least, that's what she told herself. She mostly believed it.

It was hard being a Wolf on tour, because the crowds were sometimes nothing but the scent of sweat and blood, and when the Moon was close to full, Lindsey wanted nothing more that to jump into the crowd and hunt.

Sometimes she'd find a willing guy and take him out into the woods, make him run from her as she shifted into Wolf-shape, chasing him down, tackling him, teeth bared, blurring back into Lindsey-shape at the last possible moment. Feeling the body under her twitch in fear as she left a bite mark on his throat satisfied the Wolf, a little. She was always careful never to break skin, as much as she wanted the copper taste of blood on her tongue.

Sometimes her 'victim' would be hot and hard against her, aroused by the fear coursing through his blood.. She'd pull out his cock, riding him fast and rough, knocking away his hands whenever he tried to touch her, because she was in control, she was Alpha, and she only allowed him to touch when and where she wanted it.

She'd get back to the bus glowing and sweaty, and Steve would poke at her, trying to find out who she'd fucked, and if he'd been any good.

"Why, you wanna fuck him, too?" she asked with a grin.

Steve just laughed at her, while Kitty rolled her eyes. "Not his type," Jimmy said. "Steve likes his boys skinny, like me." Jimmy stood up and started thrusting his hips at Steve.

"Fuck off," Steve said, throwing a book at Jimmy's head, and missing.

Jimmy was careful around her, too careful, but she knew he was worried about provoking her by being too Alpha around her, making her Wolf come out. He was the frontman, but they were a band, and Jimmy was canny in ways that Lindsey wouldn't appreciate until years later.

She was careless. She didn't need a Pack; she was content to run solo and watch her own back. Steve, Kitty, and Jimmy were bandmates, friends, but she wouldn't let them be more than that. Couldn't.

Then the day came and she found herself wounded by a Hunter and his silver knife, and if it hadn't been for Jimmy she would have been killed. The Hunter would have skinned her, killed her, and used her fur to shift shapes.

She woke in a cage, skin sticky with blood, the scent of Jimmy thick in her nose.

If Jimmy had died, she would have, too, executed by the law.

Jimmy was tough motherfucker, and he didn't die.

The first time Lindsey saw him afterward, scarred and still healing, she turned and walked away, hitchhiked back to New York City. She lost herself in the crowds.

She couldn't face what she'd done, how stupid she'd been. It almost cost Jimmy his life, her refusal to accept the band as her Pack. Which just went to show how unsuited she was to being an Alpha.

They sent Kitty to find her, because she and Kitty had spent time wandering the city, showing each other their favorite spots, and Kitty knew her, soul deep.

Pack or band, the name didn't matter. What mattered was the way Kitty hugged her, rubbed her back and whispered the forgiveness she didn't deserve into her hair.

When she saw Jimmy again, using a cane to compensate for his still-healing leg, she wanted to turn tail and run. She was Alpha, though, so she lifted her chin. "I'm sorry," she said, and she was.

His grin was crooked. "Bitch."

It made her laugh through her tears, and when Steve swept her into a group hug, she didn't complain, just breathed them in.

Being a Wolf was hard, and being on the road was certainly a challenge. But playing with her band made it worth it. Pack. Hers to protect, hers to place her trust in.