I loved a werewolf

The moment was a bloody red. Even the full moon stared at Rori's immoral face before making an awkward look and leaving. It didn't feel as bad as she had imagined. Sleeping with the husband of her sister who was the head of a werewolf pack was a desire she thought she could avoid if she was given enough time to think it through. But, she didn't get enough time. All the moments she spent considering his offer were not good enough for her to come up with a decision that would favour both parties.

"Rori!"

She turned as she heard Mark's voice. His accent was as black as anything she had ever heard or seen. From Jazz to Soul music, he was as black as Sudan-born model Nyakim Gatwech.

"Yes!" Rori answered as she turned around a little bit.

"I am sorry," Mark's voice was pure and simple. "I didn't mean to flow with you the way I did. I thought you loved it when I go hard on you."

Rori looked away.

"I am sorry," Mark continued. "We can work things out. Sandra doesn't need to know about what happened this night. Do you hear me?"

Rori did not answer. She was deeply hurt, and her pain was stronger than whatever feeling of hate she was going to get if her sister found out that she had slept with her husband.

"I am going," she managed to say slowly. "I am going back to my apartment."

"Wait!" Mark raised his voice as he ran towards her, holding his belt firmly with his right hand in order to prevent it from falling from his waist. "You know I love you. I care about your well-being, Rori. You are a source of my inner joy. You feel me?"

Rori's eyes flashed slowly. "I don't understand what you mean, Mark," her voice was persistent and strong. "You told me we were going to play a board game. The next moment, you were on top of me, kissing me and fondling my breasts. What do you expect me to do at that point?"

"Enjoy it," Mark's lips pressed together. "I expect you to enjoy the moment as you did."

"Are you seriously joking?"

"No, I am not. Look," Mark held Rori on her shoulder. It was a gentle touch. "I know you like me and you have always thought about this night. I know you want me to spend quality time with you. I have eyes, Rori. I observe you whenever I see you in public. I see the way you look at me. Your eyes are always eager to know where I am going, what I am doing, and if I am going to get your attention. Everyone in our pack knows you love me. You don't have to deny it, Rori. Even your sister knows that you like me. You must be a dreamer to think that no one knows about the special connection going on between us."

"Leave me alone," Rori said, gently.

Mark pulled his hand from her shoulder and placed both of his hands on his hip. By now, his breath was growing cold.

"You can't talk about me like that," Rori continued. "I am not your bitch. I am not a street prostitute you just meet on the road, pay a dollar bill and order her to offer you all the fun you want in the world. I am a woman, Mark. Have a little bit of respect for me being a woman if you can't respect my sister."

Mark laughed. His laughter was like that of a man who had beaten his son on a fifty metres race. He grinned.