Wolf Tamer by Avery Song
PROLOGUE: KIDNAPPED THE RING LEADER
"Now what made you think kidnapping me was a good idea?"
Five pairs of eyes landed on me, as I continued to chew the thankfully fresh lemonade bubblegum I'd plopped into my mouth - seconds before these masked men decided I was a lovely target to scoop and toss into their large, metal money truck.
The leader was failing at this whole "tough guy" persona, but I was going to imagine he was a scary, bulky, tattooed beast instead of the scrawny, slightly trembling, dude that couldn't even hold his gun properly.
Not to forget the safety was on.
"Stop talking and cooperate!" he demanded.
"Why?" I stared at him and shrugged my shoulders while trying to ignore the slight irritation I was mentally enduring with my wrists tied. "Can't concentrate because I'm simply trying to entertain myself?"
"Listen," the guy to my left began. He seemed to be the smartest one in the group, and surely I would have made him the leader simply because his hazelnut eyes were kinda cute.
That's probably why I don't do the whole appoint positions and lead shit because whoever was the prettiest in my book would be the leader of whatever game we were playing.
"Give us their information regarding the Phoenix Heir and we'll let you go!"
I pouted my lips and blinked my teal eyes innocently.
"I've told you guys already," I whined. "It's me!"
Five long seconds of absolute silence, and they laughed like I'd told them I was the Virgin Mary. "It's me!" I repeated. "How many times do I have to say it?"
"Sorry, but you ain't the heir," the guy further back shook his head.
"And why not?" I demanded. "What makes me not look like the heir?"
The guy to the far left sat down on a bench as he placed his AR on his lap.
"First off, you talk too much."
"You're not serious," I whined. "I'm supposedly shy to everyone else unless I'm nervous, or in a bad mood, or getting kidnapped by random people asking if I'm the heir of the Phoenix Royal Pack and won't listen to me when I say I am!"
Another round of laughter echoed against the metal walls, and my shoulders sank as the guy with blue eyes sighed.
"Second of all, your hair is boring."
"Boring?" I gasped in horror and tried to get a glimpse of my long black locks. "Listen. I'm a fashion designer. It's not like I can flaunt a rainbow in my head and be taken seriously!"
"That's the thing though," a guy with red hair began as he walked over to sit next to blue eyes. "If you were truly an heir, you wouldn't give a flying shit about rules having to follow the bland hair color guidelines of your employer."
"Not to forget you got no tattoos or piercings,"
"I got nipple piercings?!" I sat up like I'd finally won at something, and the other three who gathered closer to their sitting comrades laughed.
"Not with that perky attitude, honey," the leader noted. "C'mon, there's a handbook on how to be a badass bitch somewhere, isn't there."
"I...read the old edition?" I reasoned as I looked at them. "That counts, right?"
"No," one barked out. "The old one is like ten years old."
"Well, it's not like I try to be a badass or anything! Again, I'm a fashion designer. Sometimes a celebrity stylist when I have some free time. Listen, if you guys aren't going to believe me, can I at least smoke a joint before you kill me."
"You're not serious?" the only bulky guy in their unit tossed.
"I'm dead serious," I reasoned. "You guys should be giving some damn pity. I've been working for fifteen hours on two hours of sleep and five cups of coffee with an additional shot of espresso," I explained.
The poor group actually pitied me before the leader rolled his eyes and huffed.
"Yo! How much longer to the warehouse?"
"Three minutes," the driver called out.
The leader looked back at me and signaled the bulky guy to actually get me a cigar.
"Damn! Y'all actually going to let me smoke one?!" I practically squealed.
"She reminds me of Harley Quinn," red hair noted.
"Ugh. Why does everyone compare me to her?" I complained. "Do you see me with multicolor hair with a dose of bipolar tendencies and complete obsession with a psychotic evil mastermind that just uses me whenever he sees fit?"
"Do you even have a boyfriend?"
"No, but I'm taking applications?"
The five of them just stared at me before the leader sighed.
"We so took the wrong person."
"Well, what we gonna do? We already have her."
"We can throw her out of the car?"
"Hmmm."
"Don't do that," I pleaded, grabbing their attention. "Guys. I'm a stylist. We deal with the craziest shit in NYC. I know celebs who work in the mafia, motorcycle clubs, gangs, and I've even been down at the underground pathway six feet under the White House. Beautifully decorated, by the way. This term's First Lady is just sensational. She knows exactly what she wants in life, but I mean, if you're fifty-four and don't know what you want in life, there's a serious problem."
For some reason, the four of them looked over to the bulky guy and he grunted.
"Fuck off! I'm trying here."
"You're fifty-four?" I inquired.
"He's sixty," the leader noted. "Still living with his mama."
"Fuck you!" he cursed. "Why are you laying my dirty laundry out like that?! Haven't I been loyal to your ass?"
"Loyal ya, but that's a damn embarrassment, man."
"I told you, bro, come live with me!"
"You live in your parents' basement!" he argued.
"But it's a pretty fancy basement. Separate entrance, a small little bar, and an entertainment system, and I got a full bathroom with a bonus room for the gym. Air-conditioned nice and cozy during the summer."
"That sounds pretty good," I praised.
He bobbed his head as if he were so proud. "If I wanted to put that shit on the market, I'd be a millionaire."
"Well, real estate is a good investment," I tossed. "You'd be good for an agent. Your eyes are nice. The whole blue aesthetic. Buyers DIE for that. Add in a suit, either black or white, but white stands for victory. That's when you know the blessings are coming your way."
"I was actually thinking of doing real estate," he admitted. "Better than this shit."
"Got that right," bulky declared as he lit the blunt and neared my mouth. "Hurry up, stylist."
"Thank you!" I inhaled and took my sweet time enjoying the intense aroma of the blunt, watching the flickering cinders at the other side. The mere sight made my body grow hot with impatience, but I felt the cooling nudge of my wolf in the depths of my consciousness.
"Patience, firebird. We have to keep playing the game."
Yes, yes, the game. Tick tock, tick tock.
Blowing out the smoke, I said in relief. "Fuck. That hits the spot. I haven't had one of these in a hot minute."
"Why were you at that douche bag's building?" the leader decided to ask as he moved to sit on the other bench with his comrade, leaving only bulky standing.
"Why? Need the goods?"
"If you got them, it'll probably spare your life," he noted.
"Reasonable," I admitted. "Can you untie my hands? Or at least put them in front so I can smoke this?"
They all exchanged looks and I pouted. "C'mon guys. I ain't going anywhere in this metal box."
The leader signaled blue eyes to do the deed, unhandcuffing me just so I could stretch my arms and rub at my wrists.
Placing them in front, I placed them together like I was saying a prayer. "Okay. You can put them back."
"Seriously?"
"I meant it. Just want to smoke that and talk. Did you really think I'd have something up my sleeve?" I innocently questioned.
"Probably," the guy muttered and did what I'd requested as he snapped the cuffs back on my wrists but didn't make them as tight as before.
Bulky offered me the cigar and I easily took it and gave myself a solid minute to enjoy its effects. I always wondered why people in the fashion industry were so addicted to smoking, but after doing it for five solid years, I understood why.
The calming effects it carried alone were hard to replace, especially when it was a pinch of tranquility versus the stressful environment of deadlines, errors, judgment, and people screaming your ear off when someone isn't 100% perfect.
"The douche bag needs a special designer suit made, but he only has 48 hours," I got to the point. "He wanted to hire me for the job, but sadly, I declined."
"Why did you decline?" The leader was intrigued.
"He's too messy," I stated like he was some sort of disease. "Why would I bust my ass off to make you a plum purple suit with golden accents when you can't even pick up after yourself and you have empty delivery wrappers all over your entrance floor?"
"He's rich, though," bulky noted.
"Exactly!" I stressed like it was a true crime. "He's fucking loaded! Cars, planes, jets, like fuck. He's the CEO of one of the richest airplane corporations, and he can't pick up his McDonald's wrappers from his extremely expensive Italian textiles? It's a no for me."
"Do you know he's head deep in trouble?"
"I wouldn't be surprised," I offered like it wasn't a big deal to me. "Seriously, half these douches with plenty of money and disdain for the working class are doing a bunch of illegal shit. That ain't new. Next."
"He's the reason why we're all fucking unemployed," bulky muttered.
"He suddenly closed down his factory for no reason. Just sent the notice when we all clocked in for us to clock right out." blue eyes seethed with anger.
"That's why I hate rich people," the leader tossed. "Don't give a fuck about the poor."
"It's tricky for sure," I agreed as I further leaned into my chair and lifted one leg up to rest on the other.
"No different from my job."
"What do you mean?" one of them asked. "You're a celebrity stylist. You have money."
"Who said that?" It was finally my turn to laugh. "Oh, you mean the chump change we get after they request six yards of pearl beads that cost ten thousand per yard? Then add the rhinestones they want me to apply in the in-between portions of the pearls so they can have a glamorous rich aesthetic yet still project a classy flawlessness? OR better yet, the silky lining they will want and not just any type of silk cause they aren't about the china silk life. No. They want their silk imported from Italy, making sure it's one of a kind and of a creamy complexion that's not too nude, but just an inch short from cream. Finalizing the Christian Louboutin heels because celebs don't want to wear anything else right now, because we go by trends, followed by the real diamond accessories, and oh. Don't get me started on the hair. If they have short hair, you're in luck, but those long extensions shit. Oh, your whole day is taken away from you to make sure it's silky smooth like a Pantene commercial so that they look extra expensive and are now the model of us poor people's dreams," I summed up.
"So..." the leader seemed to struggle to keep up. "How much do you make for that."
"After all the expenses...just roughly five hundred."
"What?" they all gawked in shock as they stared at me with horrified expressions.
"That doesn't even cover two hours of my labor costs, and I've been working for fifteen hours," I reasoned and looked too bulky. "What time is it?"
"Close to midnight."
"See," I began and shook my head. "I have two hours to sleep before my two in the morning appointment to get started for this press conference in the morning for Oprah Jr. You know Oprah's secret daughter just started a show and all, so I've been invited to style her while her hair gets done. She's getting extensions and those take extra time even though I suggested she use a wig install because it's far faster, and she can just whip it off and do something else for her next appointment two hours after her show, but you know. No one listens to me."
"Damn..." blue eyes whispered. "You're life's kinda harsh.
"It's a tough cruel world out there," I sighed as the truck came to a slow stop.
"Security checkpoint," the driver announced.
The others gave each other looks before I smiled. "If you guys really need the money, it's in my back pocket. It can be for the nice cigar and just listening."
"Seriously?" bulky looked over at me.
"Ya. There are five of you, so a hundred each. It ain't a big deal. I already paid my rent for my studio apartment, so I don't need the money. I probably won't eat anyways until this appointment is over with and if y'all kill me, well...the money is just gonna be pocketed by the autopsy chick, so use it."
"Fuck," the leader cursed. "How about this? We take your money. Get out and don't go to the police or we'll find you and kill you."
"Really?!" I beamed. "But..." I trailed off as my shoulders sank. "We won't see each other again."
Bulky laughed. "You don't wanna see us again."
"I do. You guys were really nice. I may not be worthy of who you're looking for, but what if I can get intel for you?"
"Nah," the leader shook his head. "We're just doing this to get revenge. Bro, unlock her."
Blue eyes were back and he unlocked the cuffs.
"But...isn't there anything I can do?" I offered to look around at them as I worked on finishing the cigar. "What if I could grant your heart's desire?"
They laughed.
"Mine would be killing this douche."
"Same."
"Same, right here."
"Same, and put his whole damn building on fire."
"Kill him with my bare hands," the leader declared as he stared into my eyes.
I bobbed my head and smiled.
"I could make that happen," I reasoned. "Now my question is, should I?"
They laughed once more, taking my words as a joke as usual. The leader sighed and walked up to me until he stood before me as I rose up from my seat. He took the cigar from my grasp and inhaled deeply.
Blowing it out to the side, he smiled.
"Do it," he whispered. "I dare..."
He didn't finish, as he slowly looked down to see what not only embolized him but was crawling up his legs.
The others did the same, and when they tried to speak, panicked muffles and gurgles ringed around me. Reaching for the cigar before the inky substance of shadows claimed his hands, I watched his panic eyes grow wider as the first cinders of fire erupted from the tips of my hair.
Spreading faster than what was consuming them, my long black locks were now shocking orange with red highlights. The tips were literally on fire, the temperature in the metal truck spiking to the point the handcuffs that dropped to the floor began to melt just like the wooden chair behind me.
I slowly licked my lips as I moved away from the melting objects and took one last inhale and tossed the cigar away.
Tugging on my dirty black shirt, I revealed my black laced bra, revealing the detailed tattoos upon my back that were surely illuminated with a sickly black glow that resonated with the shadows that were almost finished with their deed.
Turning around, I looked at their horrified eyes, the rest of their bodies covered in black like rotten mummies, but they were well alive, and soon, they would be under my control.
Tugging on my bra just slightly, I showed them one of my pierced nipples and winked.
"I told you," my voice was now thick with seduction while I fought not to lose myself in laughter. "I have two very pierced nipples. The bonus one is down under. If you know what I mean."
Fixing my girls, I snapped my fingers, and bursting out of the flames was a black biker jacket. Another snap of my fingers and my bra was no longer black, but scorching red, and with a brush of my finger along my lips, they were covered in red lipstick.
Slipping the jacket on, I stretched and shook my hips which made my loose pants into black ripped jeans, and I kicked my ratched shoes off to reveal the perfect set of boots with a solid heel.
Spitting the now tasteless gum out of the hidden pocket of my back teeth, I delivered a sly smile. I slowly walked back to the leader, each step igniting flames that began to spread through the metal box. Stopping before him, I placed my hand on his cheek, and he watched how my bare nails were now long, black, and held a onyx aura to their fingertips.
"You know, I liked you guys. A lot. Since you're willing to do the deed I was on my way to commit myself, I'll kindly grant your heart's desire."
My purr surely made them shiver beneath my cocoons of darkness, making me laugh as I licked the side of his face and listened to his muffled scream when his hidden flesh began to burn entirely.
"Go kill that man with your bare hands, shadow puppet," I hummed. "Do that, and I'll think about whether to add you to my collection, or let Lucifer take you."
With a giggle, I waltzed away - their muffled screams making me feel so happy after a stressful day.
I didn't have to open the large metal doors because they opened on their own accord. My walk didn't slow down in the slightest as my flames burst out of my back until massive wings left me afloat in the air.
Landing not a second later, they were gone like fireworks, and I was approaching the man leaning against his massive motorbike while his disciples were lined up along the side of the road - bowing with every step I took.
"You took too long," I complained when I reached him. "They didn't believe my nipples were pierced."
His cold eyes lifted slightly to look in my direction before they lowered slightly to my girls. I almost missed it, but I saw the flicker of amusement in those dangerously red jewels, a second before they were cold again like his damn attitude.
"I have to make you more talkative," I noted more to myself. He passed me my neon red helmet with orange flames.
"Can we go get ice cream?" I asked. He ignored me, so I moved around his damn mega bike to his right side. Arching an eyebrow my way, I smiled and added, "When I talk to the right side of your body, you normally approve of my requests."
A jolt of laughter came from behind me, and I looked over to the second guy on his slim speedy bike. He shook out his neon green locks to give me a playful grin.
"C'mon! Let's get our Ruby Queen some ice cream before the cops show."
I looked back at my coldhearted killer, and he rolled his eyes.
"Is that a yes?" I reasoned and gave him a pleading look. He nudged his head back to encourage me to hop on, and I squealed. "Score!"
Before I got on, I lightly placed my hands on his cheeks and leaned right in to kiss him firmly on the lips. My eyes never left his, watching those red jewels bleed to a black with hints of purple.
Breaking the kiss, I gave him a saucy grin. "Let's have fun later, killer. My nipples' pride is hurt and they need a moment of TLC."
He didn't fight his threatening grin and muttered with that addictive deep voice of his.
"Whatever, RubyLu."
"You better find a better nickname than that," I noted. "Though, this one is growing on me."
I got right on without delay; putting my helmet on as he ramped up the engine. One of his servants walked up to us before bowing specifically in my direction.
"Any additional orders, Queen Phoenix," he nervously questioned.
I pouted my lips as I flicked the front shield of my helmet up. He froze when a gun was now pressing against his forehead.
"What have I said about addressing me like that?"
Another servant arrived, looking as if he could care less if I killed this boy or not. He bowed and began with, "Good evening, Queen Vincent. Shall we do the usual clean-up?"
"Not necessary," I noted. "I'm a bit on the peeved side after a long strenuous day of bullshit. Kidnapping wasn't on my normal agenda of fuckery."
I bobbed my head in the boy's direction as he trembled. "New?"
"Sadly," he calmly replied. "Potential."
"Hmph." I pulled back my shadow gun and it evaporated just like my patience.
"Remember we don't do second chances, but I'm feeling merciful tonight." Turning my attention back to the other servant, I continued. "Let Whitney inform my next client I'll be there at three am."
"Specific excuse, my Queen?"
"Hmm," I thought about it for a moment before grinning and snapping my fingers.
The massive explosion that happened behind us grabbed all their attention. I decided to take a glimpse, watching the flames skyrocket into the air until a giant, phoenix bird silhouette spread along the midnight sky.
"Explosion on the 900. Police blocking both sides. Need to re-route."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Good," I replied, and slipped my arms around my love's waist.
"T-Thank you, Your Majes-AHHHHH!!!" The boy's words didn't finish as his body was engulfed in flames. No one said a word, even after the last bit of ash fell to the floor.
Turning my head over to the last boy standing, I admired his cool demeanor and bobbed my head. "Impressive. Who are you?"
"Snow, Your Majesty."
"Make sure everyone knows the normal protocols of how we run shit," I stressed.
"I'll promptly do so, Your Majesty."
"After that, meet me in the morning. You'll be promoted to personal security. I'm sure you don't need any other instructions than that, correct?"
"8 AM, North side of 5th street building for your appointment at 9 AM with a cup of Starbucks coffee black and ensure your book of designs is available with the special quill pen you use. Whitney will accompany me."
"Oh, I like you," I squealed. "Baby, can we keep him?"
I was surprised he responded but he muttered, "He's loyal."
"Excellent," I purred and looked back at him. "See you in the morning, Snow, and remember."
My eyes bled to black as my grin was priceless in all things sinister.
"The wifi password to Demon Pack is ShadowCrowns. Make sure you don't forget the capital C or else your device explodes."
Moral of the story? One should never kidnap a ring leader.
Especially when they're a demon queen like me.
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