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Bestial Bonds

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Part One

 

If Loba thought she was having a bad day before, then she was having a really bad fucking day now.

Let’s start with the worst of it: her hair. It refused to stay neat and tidy in her braids, the amount of flyaways astounding despite the copious amount of hair spray she used. Then, while struggling with her hair bands and bobby pins, she chipped a nail. Granted, they grew back fairly quickly, but still, breaking a nail on a bobby pin? Off to a great start, Loba Andrade.

In the grand scheme of things, however, Loba supposed finding herself on the floor, a knife to her neck and multiple stab wounds in her side was probably a lot worse than hair and nails being messed up. 

Marginally.

 

 

That day she hadn’t planned to do much. Nothing but hunting down her parents' killer, at least, but that was an everyday thing so really it was as mundane as, say, going to work; where you were so used to the routine that you didn’t bother considering it an event of your day. The real shake up came from how she was going to hunt her parents' killer, and it involved a woman and a bit of meat. 

Now, Loba liked it when things involved women and some meat, but this wasn’t for pleasure, because if Jaime was right— and he usually, annoyingly was— this woman had been recently turned, and that made her dangerous. It wouldn’t be the first time Loba had gotten into a fight with one of Kaleb Cross’s underlings, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but experience never eased the anxiety she felt. It killed to be complacent, and Loba wasn’t in the mood to get killed. 

So, when Jaime had finally provided her a location to the woman, Loba prepared how she normally did. She eased off her wolvesbayne for the week, let herself go hungry for a few days, and painted her nails with the silver-infused polish she kept around. It never really felt like enough, but confidence was everything, so she told herself that she was ready to go and soon enough she started to believe it true.

—And honestly, what were they even thinking with adding a love triangle? I mean come on! ” 

Jaime’s voice flitted in and out of her ear piece as she trekked through the trees. Her car was parked somewhere miles off, in a well-hidden offshoot of the main road. She could have gone further down that path— it would lead directly to the house— but surprise was everything, and it would do her no good for the newly-turned woman to hear the roar of her engine from a mile away.

“Well, how else are they to boost their ratings? Sex sells. More sex sells more.” Loba chatted idly, brushing aside a plant that would have otherwise whacked her in the face. The trees and brush here were packed thick, the land having not been tended to in years. She was glad she opted for something other than heels this time around, otherwise the copious amounts of roots would have tripped her by now, and Jaime would never let her hear the end of it if she face-planted while on the channel with him.

Yeah, but, really? With the mailman? How clichè could you get?”

“Very. How far out am I, Jaime?”

She heard the click of a mouse on the other end, “ Five minutes.

Loba looked forward, squinting. The massive trunks of trees and thick foliage kept her from seeing anything remotely resembling a house. Looks like there was a strategic reason for having such unattended land— aside from willingly creating a massive fire hazard.

“Any movement outside the house?”

Nope, but her car’s out front. She’s inside.”

Simple enough, a locked door was never enough to stop Loba Andrade. She reached into her hair, lip twitching in annoyance as she felt the mess of her braids, before removing one of the bobby pins keeping them in place, careful to not let her nails scrape her scalp. She twisted the bobby pin into a more desirable shape, and put it between her lips as she tied her braids around each other to create a bun.

“Has she left the house at all today?”

There was silence on the other end, no doubt Jaime checking through his drone feed. Loba let out a soft sigh, rolling her neck and shaking out her hands. Ideally, she’d get through this without having to use the wolf, but things didn’t always go to plan— especially with just how hungry she was. Loba slung her bag off of her shoulder, unzipping it to a built in cold pack and a wrapped slab of bloodied venison sitting inside. She stared longingly at it, but ultimately when it was removed from the bag it went to either side of her neck instead, masking her scent to resemble that of a deer. It wasn’t completely effective, as a werewolf’s nose was strong, but it would cover it long enough for her to get in before the woman might detect her.

Nope. She’s just been inside. She went out a few times but she wasn’t doing much. All yours.”

“Great, thanks, beautiful. It’s time for me to go quiet, though.”

Got it. Good luck with it, come back so we can finish up that show, yeah?”

Loba smiled, rolling her eyes, “Darling. I always come back.”

Today was a little different.

 

Five minutes was more of ten; Loba had to route herself through the trees and undergrowth, after all. Eventually, a reprieve did come, and it was in the form of a small bungalow with a pristine surrounding yard. Parts of the walls were painted over, other parts appearing to be in the works, and up the paved driveway sat a motorcycle leaned onto its side, a mechanics box next to it. How charming.

‘Well, that’s not much of a car, is it, Jaime?’ Loba thought to herself, pursuing her lip. She had approached the home from behind and aside from a back door there were no other entry points. No patio doors, a disturbing lack of windows, not even a chimney she could shimmy herself down should she feel particularly humored to.

Door it is, then.

Loba headed forward, not so discreetly sniffing the air. There was prey in the woods, the scent of fresh grass trimmings, the metallic scent of paint, and of course the stench of another wolf on the inside. It made her lips curl, and along her back she could feel fur stand on end. She could smell it all over her, Kaleb Cross’s mark, and it twisted her stomach. 

It was the same scent she herself carried.

Loba pressed her bobby pin into the lock, pausing as she listened in. She could hear the sound of a tv on the inside, loud enough to mask the scraping of the locks. None of Cross’s underlings ever exercised a modicum of caution, and after years upon years of hunting Loba was glad to see that fact had not changed. With one more wiggle she heard that telltale click of the lock being undone, and she couldn’t help the smile that pulled across her lips.

‘Got you.’

Thankfully, this door was well oiled, as pressing it open hardly produced a noise. Inside, she could smell something cooking; something garlicky, no doubt, and the sound of boiling water barely masked by the TV made her ear twitch. Cooking? Why would she be cooking?

Loba shut the door behind her, crouched low. The bungalow was bigger on the inside, and it had that old-style sectioning of the rooms that made sneaking around ever-more-annoying. Right now she was looking at a wooden dining table barely big enough to house the two fold-out chairs pressed next to it. The dining room door was open, and further out she could see the TV on, but the pleather (pleather? Pleather?!) sofa in front of it was unoccupied.

‘Kitchen, or bedroom, then.’

Loba focused for a moment, and soon after felt a slight stinging in her fingertips as her claws pressed out further. A quick glance around the threshold of the dining room, and she could see the other part of the wall housing the door to the kitchen. Wide open. Loba strained her ears. She could only hear the boiling water, TV, and the new sound of a sizzling pan. Sniffed the air. Garlic.

Loba narrowed her eyes, creeping up on the door. A glance in. It was small. A fridge at the back with a trash bin next to it, wooden cabinets and counters on her left, and no doubt the stove was obscured by the door. For a while she kept herself paused at the threshold, before she glanced behind her. There was another door, no doubt to the bedroom, and it was closed.

The sound of sizzling increased, as though something had been flipped or added to the pan. Loba looked back at the kitchen. She had to be in here, then.

She took a step.

Then another.

Until she rounded the door towards the stove and saw it completely unattended.

“Wha-?”

An arm wrapped around her neck, tugging her back against a strong body. Loba let out a yelp, quickly cut off as her airflow was restricted.

“What the fuck do you think you’re— argh!

Loba dragged her nails along the assailant's forearm, the sound of sizzling flesh joining the rest of the orchestra of noises as she was quickly let go. Loba spun, snarling, hands at the ready.

The woman was tall, lean, and clearly not too happy at having her arm sliced up. She was holding onto it, hissing in pain as smoke rose from the blistering flesh. Loba bared her teeth.

“Kaleb Cross.” She said

The woman reached behind her, and the sound of metal scraping alerting Loba to the knife she now had in her hand, “What?!”

“Kaleb Cross. Where is he?”

“I don’t know what you’re—“

Loba lunged then, swiping at air as the woman dodged to her side. The woman struck towards her with the knife, but Loba danced away, falling back onto the counter. The woman quickly stood parallel to her, dropped into a more defensive posture than before.

Kaleb. Cross .” Loba repeated, a growl lacing through her words.

“Repeating it doesn’t make me understand!” 

Loba bared her teeth again, and the woman’s lips twitched in kind. She tried another pounce, this time going low to the ground and swiping at her stomach. She had expected the woman to jump away again, to express the proper fear of silver that every other werewolf she ever fought had and give her an opening to go for the throat.

What she didn’t expect was the woman to sit there and take it, her nails ripping through flesh and cloth. 

‘What the-?’ 

It wasn’t until Loba felt the knife enter her side that she understood why the woman had stood her ground. Pain exploded through her torso, a sense of cold washing over the new wound as she jumped back, grasping it. Loba pressed her hands to the wound, gritting her teeth. It would heal, yes, but fuck if that didn’t hurt. She leveled a glare at the woman, who was holding her own stomach with a grimace. Smoke was billowing from the tattered cloth of her shirt.

“Fu-fuck!” The woman groaned, “What are those nails made of?”

“Silver, sweetie. Don’t want another taste? Start talking.” Loba huffed out.

The woman’s face twisted, “I don’t know what you are trying to say.”

“You were bitten by a man named Kaleb Cross, and I need to know where he is.”

“Look, crazy, do I look like the type to go around letting men bite me?”

Loba laughed and shook her head, “No, but dodging the question gets you nowhere.”

“I’m not-!”

Loba took a step forward and the woman took one backwards. There’s the fear she was missing! Loba extended her fingers, letting her nails click off of each other and watching as the woman’s golden eyes darted towards them.

“This is going to end in one of two ways. You dead and me as clueless as I already am, or-“

“Me still being dead and you having information, huh?”

Loba smiled a little.

The woman shook her head, “Not happening, princess. One last chance to leave.”

Loba dropped low again.

Eyes narrowed at her. 

“Fine.”

The woman bolted towards her knife at the ready. Loba dodged to the left, reaching behind her, and pulled the coffeemaker straight from the outlet. She swung it towards the woman’s head but she ducked in time and would have put her knife in her a second time if it weren’t for Loba kicking her away. The woman stumbled back, finally letting out a rippling growl that was more pained than threatening. Loba dropped the coffee maker and circled so her back wasn’t to the counter anymore.

She didn’t anticipate the woman making another strike so soon, especially not after being kicked where she had been poisoned with silver earlier. The knife swiped up her face and barely missed her nose as Loba stepped back. She hardly expected the leg sweeping her off her feet, nor did she expect the knife entering her side again several times before she even hit the ground. Pain lanced through her, fire coursing through her blood but her torso having this unmistakable sense of cold as the blood left her side. 

Loba snarled as the woman dropped down on top of her, knife to her throat.

“I’m getting real sick and tired of your ilk showing up.”

A cough forced itself from Loba’s lungs. Her body was healing the punctures, but it was slow. This is not how she anticipated this going.

“My ilk?” Loba wheezed out.

“Werewolves, for fucks sake. I don’t know what you all want with me, but I’m running out of spots to bury you.”

What?

Loba blinked, “What are you talking about?”

For a few tense moments the woman continued to look down at her, knife still to her throat. Then, miraculously, she sighed, put her knife back in its hidden sheathe, and leaned back so she was sitting on Loba’s hips. Loba immediately drew in a fresh gulp of air, thankful for the released pressure on her chest. Normally, she wouldn’t bat an eye at having a pretty woman on top of her, but this particular one was heavier than she looked.

“I’m guessing we have some sort of misunderstanding here?” The woman said, gripping her shoulder so she could look at the claw marks on her forearm. She scowled at the sight of them.

“Perhaps.”

“What were you trying to kill me for?”

Loba’s eyes fluttered shut as she took in a long breath, wincing when it irritated the wounds in her side. Where to even start with this?

“Let me tell you something about a man named Kaleb Cross.”

 

 

Kaleb Cross. The demon. The man who ruined her life. The perpetual nightmare that refused to end. Yes, trying to begin with that ‘man’ was hard. Not a day went by where the thought of him didn’t make her see red and made the wolf within her cry out in fury. Every word she spoke of him was laced with venom, and burned her tongue as though that wasn’t some figure of speech. 

9 years old. 

She was happy, innocent, loved. Her parents had taken her out one day, to a park nearing the outskirts of the city. It was broad daylight. No werewolf should have had the balls. 

Oh, but he loved the challenge.

They were mere pieces of themselves by the time Kaleb Cross was done and, choking and screaming and crying, Loba tried to hide, but he sought her out. He found her in the bushes and approached her, a massive black wolf at least 9 feet in height and eyes that shone the deepest red she’d ever seen, and she thought then that that would be the end of her.

But, no. Of course not.

A sniff. A grin, and then a searing pain on her neck as he bit her. Left her for dead. But Loba of course was too stubborn to die and that day, covered in the blood of herself and her family, she swore she’d find him and make him suffer just as she had.

The woman sat silent as Loba finished recounting her story, slowly wrapping up her forearm in lavender-soaked bandages. Her lips were pursed, brow furrowed. It made her look tough, but in an adorable way, and Loba couldn’t help herself from admiring it, sitting across from her on the living room sofa, bandaging up her own torso.

“Jesus,” The woman said at last.

Loba hummed and nodded, tying off her bandages and putting her shirt back down, “I think you can understand why I want the demonio dead now.”

The woman gave a short nod, tying off her bandaging as well, “Yeah. I do.”

“And any information you have in regards to his whereabouts would be lovely.”

“I don’t know where he is. He’s been sending lackeys after me to try and get me into his pack, but I’ve been telling him to go fuck himself. Not all of them take no for an answer, though, and I think killing them is just making me an even more attractive prospect.” 

Loba frowned. The Revenant pack was definitely one to be wary of, and Kaleb was selective with who he let in. The fact that he wanted this woman in with him so bad— well, it had to mean something, didn’t it?

“How did you get bitten?” Loba asked.

The woman shrugged, gripped the hem of her shirt, and tugged it right off without a second thought, “I don’t remember.”

Loba blinked, then looked around to see if she could find the clouds and pearly gates. None? Huh, that’s strange. She could have sworn she had died and went to heaven at the sight of those abs.

“You don’t?” Loba said and hoped her voice didn’t sound as dreamy as she felt.

“No.”

“A shame. I was hoping this would be more helpful.”

The woman shrugged again, using the roll of bandages to wrap her stomach now. Loba had faced many challenges in her life; trying to keep her eyes off of this lady’s muscles was probably among the hardest she’s faced.

“Who said it couldn’t be? I want to help you find him.” The woman said.

Loba snorted— truly, she couldn’t help it, “Help me? After I almost killed you?”

“Don’t kid yourself, princess, you didn’t even get close. And yeah, I do, I want that bastard dead as much as you do.” The woman tied off her bandaging and rubbed along where the covered wound was, grimacing slightly.

“Really now? For what?” 

A soft chuckle. The woman packed away all her medical supplies back into their bin, setting it down on the wooden coffee table afterwards.

“You’re not the only one that’s had your family taken from you.”

It was a vague statement, and judging by the way the woman’s expression darkened it was a wound still horribly fresh. Loba frowned again. A woman with a story and a troubled past. How interesting.

“So you want to help, then?”

“Yeah. Not like I have anything else to do around here.”

“To be fair, you could paint the rest of your house, beautiful.”

“I’m talking about less domestic tasks. Something that’s actually entertaining.”

Loba checked her nails, wondering if there was still blood and flesh underneath them, “I suppose I could use a hand, and seeing as you are the most recently turned one, Kaleb’s attention will be on you most.”

The woman nodded, “I’d be your best shot.”

At that, Loba dropped her hand and let out a sigh, “Forgive me for being jaded, beautiful, but I’m finding it hard to believe that you are really doing this out of the kindness of your own heart. Is there something you want?”

A scoffing laugh, “I want to watch tv in peace without having my house broken into every other day, that’s what. And I’ll do it with or without you, princess.”

“Oh, please, then let’s make that with , then.” Loba said.

Did she trust her? Not one bit, but she was her best shot at finally getting that bastard, and Loba would be damned if she let it slip out of her fingers. That, and the woman was gorgeous and Loba wouldn’t mind working more closely with her if it meant getting to see more of those muscles.

“Alright, then. First things first, you’re getting that drone out of my airspace, clear?”

Loba laughed again at that. Of course she would have noticed it, the woman seemed much smarter than other werewolves she’s tracked in the past, “Done.”

“And you’re paying for a new coffeemaker.”

“It wasn’t that damaged.”

“…”

“… Fine. Anything else?”

“You’re helping me clean up all the blood in my kitchen.”

Loba rumbled a little, “Having me buy you shiny new things, helping you with some domestic task. Sweetheart, are we dating now?”

The woman’s expression didn’t twitch, “No.”

Loba blinked. That was a bit harsh. 

“Well, could I at least get a name so I know who I am working with, then?“ Loba tried instead.

There was a laugh, and for a moment Loba thought she was going to get snuffed again until she offered a hand.

“You can just call me Bangalore, for now.”

Loba smiled, taking hold of her hand. It was calloused and the skin was rough. The hands of someone who worked hard, no doubt. Loba wondered how those fingers would feel dancing along her cl—

She shook herself of the thought, “Alright, Bangalore, it looks like we are partners.”

“For now. After he’s dead I never want to see you again.”

There’s the catch.”

Chapter Text

Part Two

 

“Jaime.”

“No.”

“Hear me out-“

“No.”

“Look, it’s just a strategic—“

“No .”

“You aren’t letting me finish!”

No.”

Loba let out a huff, slapping her hand against her thigh. In front of her Jaime continued whatever programming jargon he had on his screen, not paying her any more attention than what he had already given her. Loba sat against the metal desk Jaime was stationed in front of, watching his eyes dart back and forth, face highlighted in a blue glow that washed out both his eyes and dyed blue hair.

“She’s a—“

“Revenant member.”

“She’s not a-! Bangalore is not a revenant member, she wants to see the bastards dead as much as I do.” Loba growled out, clinking her nails against the steel of the desk.

“Which is why she hasn’t given you her real name and is oh-so conveniently helping you after no convincing. ~ Traaaap~” Jaime said, singing the last word. 

Loba crossed her arms and pouted. “It’s not a trap. You really think I wouldn’t have verified her for myself? She showed me all the bodies she buried of the ones that came after her.”

“Could have been any random bystander.”

“Now why would she kill random people and bury them?” 

Jaime shrugged, reaching over his desk to grab a rather large slurpee cup. He sipped at the bendy straw stuck through the cap, making an obnoxious noise that grated on Loba’s far-too-sensitive ears. He pulled the drink away, smacked his lips, and let out an exaggerated ‘Ah’

“Cause she’s a Rev member.”

“She is not.”

“Is.”

Loba scoffed, shaking her head as she pushed off of the desk, “This petty back and forth is beneath me.”

Honestly, she didn’t need Jaime’s support, but it did feel nice whenever she had a brilliant idea or stroke of luck and had him there to tell her such. If he didn’t want to play ball this time then fine, he didn’t have to. She knew this would work out, though. Bangalore had that same gleam in her eyes she did when they talked about Kaleb Cross, and that’s all Loba needed to know that Bangalore was someone worth trusting.

Loba shuffled to the back of the crowded room, opening Jaime’s anime-magnet covered mini fridge and fishing out a fizzy drink from it. 

“Wolves aren’t meant to hunt alone. Having her by my side will make tracking Cross much easier, and once I finally put that bastard in the dirt we will part ways, simple as that.” Loba said, sipping and almost immediately grimacing. Ugh, corn syrup. Where could a girl get a cane sugar drink nowadays?

Jaime clacked away at his keyboard, “Worked out just as well with that werefox you met a few years back, didn’t it?”

“Jaime, I was having a phase,” Loba pinched her nose, “Nevermind that, just look into that farm already.”

Of course, Loba wouldn’t have left Bangalore’s home without a little more information. The woman seemed capable enough, and she was quick to disappear into her bedroom and come back with a folder filled with papers and photos. It was an odd mixture of dossiers, flight patterns, and random photographs that Loba wouldn’t have paid much attention to if it weren’t for Bangalore laying them all out and explaining them to her. This was all information she had scraped together on Kaleb Cross, his movements, and where he liked to hang around. Cross never kept in one place, and he was good at covering his tracks, so much so that he even had Jaime stumped as far as potential locations went, and Jaime was good at finding, well, everything .

Evidently, the wolves he’s sent after Bangalore were very, very good at keeping their mouths shut, but the faint smell of hay and pig excrement lingered too much on all of them to be a mere coincidence. It didn’t take long for Bangalore to come across an old farmhouse even further into the woods than she was.

“Already did. Was titled under Mccreed like a century ago, but the guy was a sole member of his family and when he died it was supposed to go back to the bank. Of course, the bank never went after it— probably forgot or something— so it’s just been collecting dust and wolves now.”

“How interesting, I do love a good history lesson, but I’m speaking more of the—“

Jaime held a hand up, “I’m getting to that. There’s definitely been some plane activity in that area, and when I sent my drone out I got a disrupted signal before the feed cut out and the remote system went unresponsive. So, definitely electronic jammers and probably a flight pad out there.”

“Flying their way in and out would make sense on why the Revenants leave no trace when they make moves.” Loba muttered. She leaned back against a table directly behind Jaime’s desk that was stacked with paper cups and styrofoam containers, knocking a few over.

“Rev’s move around a lot, but I think they might have a den established here. Otherwise it’d make no sense to have so many precautions.” Jaime finished, reaching for his slurpee cup and making yet another obnoxiously loud suction noise. 

Loba hummed, checking her nails and immediately finding herself annoyed at the one that was noticeably shorter than the others, “It would make sense why they are going after dear Bangalore, she’s technically in their space.”

“Maybe that’s how she got bit.”

Please , Jaime. Never assume how a woman was bitten. I need to make a call now, thanks for the help, beautiful.”

Jaime nodded at her, still sipping as he switched his tab back to a streaming site. He pulled the drink away with an audible ‘pop’ of his lips.

“Trap.”

“Oh shut it.”

 

 

She had agreed to meet Bangalore at another time this week, in a neutral party territory far from any watchful eyes, and with more information than she had initially left her house with. Loba took a seat, thanking the host as he quickly dashed away to another table that was waving him over. She tapped her nails against the wood grain, thumbing at the sticky menu with her other hand. Her nose crinkled at the distinct amount of vegetarian options presented to her. What did a woman have to do to get a good hunk of meat around here? Her ear twitched at the sound of the door opening, and a familiar scent drifted into her nostrils. She looked and felt a smile twitch at her lips. Ah… now that’s a good hunk.

Bangalore slid into the chair across from her, “Andrade.”

“Please,” Loba purred, moving a little closer, “No formalities, linda. Loba is just fine.”

Bangalore nodded, glancing from one side to the other. The low lighting of the restaurant cast a shadow that cut perfectly across her angled jaw and cheekbones, and highlighted a scar on her temple she hadn’t noticed before. Loba couldn’t help the rumble that drifted out of her lips. 

“You could be on the cover of a magazine,” Loba said.

Bangalore’s eyes snapped back to her, and her face twisted with something Loba couldn’t identify. She smirked, tapping her claws against the table. It was always a challenge spotting a blush on darker skin, but Loba’s eyes were trained and she could spot the faintest hint of one blooming on her cheeks.

“Thanks,” Bangalore said, more sternly than perhaps she intended to come across. Loba couldn’t help her laugh.

After taking a moment to order their drinks once their server came swerving around, Loba had reached into the handbag she had brought, retrieving a flash drive and a sticky note with a password on it. She slid it across the table to Bangalore, who glanced at it before returning her gaze to her.

“This has everything that my contact dug up on your farmhouse lead. It’s encrypted, hence the password. Make sure you put it in correctly the first time; it’s designed to wipe itself clean if you don’t.” Loba leaned back against her chair, picking up the menu and giving it a more thorough look through. Vegetarian, desserts, soups, salads— ah! There’s the meat. Her stomach growled in response to the appetizing pictures.

“Well, I’m not next to a computer right now, aren’t I? Can I get a summary?” Bangalore asked.

Loba glanced over the top of the menu. Mhm, the most appetizing option of them all.

“My contact believes you found a potential den. Lots of planes going in and out, and it seems there is a disruption on any electrical devices; apt for anyone trying to prevent communication.”

“They’re four-seaters. Like repurposed crop dusters or something. I’ve seen a few of them go over my house.” Bangalore said. She nodded her thanks at the server when they set the drinks down, and subsequently waved them off when they tried to get their orders in.

“Makes sense, it’s much more low profile than, say, a helicopter.”  Loba said, taking a sip of her seltzer. 

Bangalore nodded, picking up the flash drive and note and sticking it into the pocket of her black leather jacket. How she could even stand to wear that thing with a werewolf’s elevated body temperature was beyond her, but damn if it didn’t look good on her. Bonus: it was real leather, unlike that couch of hers.

“How attuned are you to your wolf?” Loba asked.

Bangalore paused on taking a sip of her own drink, looking at her past the rim of her glass. She set it back down on the table and leaned back with her lips pursed.

“I just let myself be. Why?”

Loba hummed, “Because, given the territory we are in, or rather looking to get into, we’ll need to make use of our… other half .” 

There was a fair amount of disdain Loba used when she said that. Couldn’t help it; she didn’t like turning. It was uncomfortable and painful and she didn’t have complete control over herself whenever she did make use of it outside of a full moon. It was much easier to keep herself human and make use of silver and wolfsbane than to utilize her transformation. Plus, it cut down on the time it took to shave afterwards.

Surprisingly, Bangalore nodded at that, picking up her glass and taking a proper drink this time, “Figured as much, though I got a few guns I’d been meaning to try out.”

“Beautiful, are you talking about those fine arms of yours?” Loba couldn’t help but to purr.

Once again there was that faint hint of a blush, which Bangalore quickly tried to hide away by sipping again. Luckily for her (and unlucky for Loba) the server came around again and she was quick to request a steak cooked rare. When the server turned to Loba she flashed them one of her award-winning smiles and told them to make it two.

“It’d be best if we tackle it after a full moon. Everyone will be tired from the shift and we can get the drop on them. We won’t know what we are walking into, but if we do any recon beforehand we’ll risk them catching us and counter-measuring.” Bangalore said 

“Recon? Counter-measuring? Beautiful, I didn’t peg you to be so word-savvy.” 

A snort, “Habit.”

Now that was an interesting bit of information. What could Bangalore possibly have been for that to be a habit? Loba tapped her nails against the table, glancing at the dog-tags that rested around her neck. A true mystery, that one was. She might even have to employ Jaime to figure it out.

“Well, there is a small hole in that plan: we’ll be just as tired afterwards. Or, at least, you’ll be,” Loba said, swirling her straw around to her the rest of the liquid at the bottom of the glass.

“I’ll be fine,” Bangalore said, and the look on her face told that she was having the final say in the matter.

Well, Loba did like to argue, “Sweetheart, I know you have that tough girl exterior, but virtually no one is equipped to shift again after a full moon. There’s no weakness in admitting it.”

“I’ll be fine,” Bangalore repeated, more sternly this time.

Loba shrugged. So be it. She’ll have her wolfsbane to keep herself subdued the night before. Ingesting about seven ounces worth of lavender would be enough to combat it for when they make their move, and give her enough strength to drag an exhausted Bangalore around by the neck.

The steaks came not too long after, leaving them both to try and eat as slowly and meticulously as possible so as to not accidentally give away their more animalistic nature. By the time they had finished it was far past the allotted time they agreed to meet for, but Bangalore had made no move to get up. Loba was thankful for that; getting to see the beautiful woman for longer than an hour was certainly a treat. Perhaps even a better one than the dessert options the server had presented to them as they took their plates.

“You said recon beforehand would be too risky, any chance I could change your mind on that?” Loba said, finishing off her second refill of seltzer.

Bangalore shook her head, “No. All it takes is one of them getting a whiff of us in the area before they’ll be on alert. With humans it’s easier to recon; wolves are different.”

“Beautiful, you speak like you have experience with this.”

Bangalore's lips pursed, but she said nothing else. Loba didn’t fail to notice how those lovely shoulders of hers had tensed. Loba tapped her fingers against her glass, glancing down at those dog tags around her neck again. A woman with a story; how charming.

“I just want to be more aware of what we are walking into when it comes to the farmhouse.” Loba tried.

“You look like you can adapt easily. If we get close enough to sniff them out, they can do the same, and they’re aren’t any high wind reports that’ll blow our scent away.”

“We could always mask our scent. Meat works well enough.”

“Negative. I could pick you out through it.”

Loba offered a smile, “Then you must have quite the nose on you, because all my marks never saw me coming with it.”

Bangalore shrugged, pushing back from the table and standing, “We’ll go for the farmhouse after the full moon, meet at my house before dawn. Worst case scenario, we kill a bunch of them and Kaleb isn’t there.”

“Or we just get killed.” Loba said, swirling her glass so the ice clinked together.

Bangalore barked out a laugh, “Yeah, right. Not happening on my watch. I got you.”

Loba froze mid swirl. Oh, great, now it was her turn to blush. That low husky voice? The protective assurance? That stern look on her face? She really couldn’t help the rumble that slipped out from it and she gave Bangalore a smile that she knew looked dopey. Swoon .

“Oh, well aren’t you a knight in shining armor?” Loba said, resting her chin on steepled fingers.

Bangalore snorted, “Yeah, right. I’ll see you soon.”

Oh yes.”

It was settled. This woman was going to be hers.

Oh, and that they were going to attack the farmhouse. That was also important.

Marginally.