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Pull Rank

-Arthur-

The demure white wolf raised its head simply and craned it to look at me. Her fur coat had locked itself into tight curls rather than straight threads, extending to her pointed snout. This was of course, due to her prolonged period of non-transformations. But with more practice, I am certain that her fur would become a brilliant flowing beauty again.

"So.. what's it going to be?" I asked, using my charming grin.

Of course, I already knew the answer. The wolf did not have eyebrows for me to analyze any expression Naomi might've been pulling if she was in human form, but I had a strong guess it was somewhere between a plea for help and her growing forbidden desire for Vincent Moonlight. The last part, I knew from our first meeting in the departure hall.

The way her eyes lit up at his name made her stumble in casual conversation and exposed her werewolf identity to me. To leave and forever forget about him? There was no chance in hell.

The white wolf raised it's snout towards the sky, and let out a small whimper. I understood her response. It was supposed to be a deep long howl, but like I knew, she was probably out of practice. I laughed and snapped my fingers. The white fur became pale skin, the hind legs morphed into straight bipedal limbs and her bulbous head shrunk: the snout receding into the round human face and her mane falling back into black long curls of head hair.

Naomi Holt lay naked on the ground. She glared at me as I brought over her mangled blouse.

"What did you do to me?" she almost barked.

"I think the phrase you're looking for is, "Thank you" I chuckled. She was lying face-first on the concrete floor, and I managed to take a small, tiny, infinitesimal even, glance at the sides of her breasts. They were supple and round enough for any man's liking, but I suspected there was a compression effect going on. Her pressure on the floor was mostly compressing those puppies, which means they were even larger, and rounder than what I was visualizing here.

Their outward bulge also suggested they were firm pointed boobs, and full of bounce. My analysis took all but less than half of a second, and my eyes moved back to her.

I held out her blouse over her, and she stared me down. This was fun. Now, what would she do next? Be brazen enough to take it from me? I would be treated to a real view and a good reward for running Vincent's errands the past week.

This was the most logical decision for her, and I was pretty sure it would end like that. It's not like she could stay on the ground forever. And best believe, I would not be turning around.

"What exactly are you?" she asked. Her tone was wary, not because of her current wardrobe situation, but something else....That was good.

I crouched over her once again.

"Asks the Werewolf that is also a Professor" I said to her.

"You're avoiding the question."

"Yes, because you talk too much. How about we get inside and get you settled in first? The only thing Bonduras hates more than trespassers is being wrong. And he is starting to look a little pink." Bonduras was still in his grey wolf form; standing beside the doors.

Naomi was silent but then reeled in to take the blouse.

Just a little more.

Something stirred within me, and I paused. My left index finger began to tremble a bit, and I sighed.

No, not now.

I dropped the blouse, turning away.

"Bonduras, get someone to show to the guest quarters," I instructed.

Bonduras didn't answer, of course. He also hated getting assigned petty tasks, in fact, there were a lot of things he hated, and he was his happiest when standing at the doors.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

I waved my hand without looking at her. If I did, I definitely would lose all my focus at once. That won't do. He was the one summoning me after all.

"We'll meet up later" I replied nonchalantly.

When I got to the Brass gates, there was already a black limousine outside. It was him. I could feel it. The gates opened wide without creaking, and I found my way into the back seat.


"What do you have to report?" Of course, the man who had asked such a senseless question was Berjeet. A loudmouth of a henchman with more brawn than brains. Unfortunately, in this case, also my direct superior and commanding officer. I looked around the grey leather seats to also see I had no companions reporting with me, which was strange.

"Well?" Berjeet barked again.

"Well, what?" I replied.

Berjeet looked like he was turning red.

"What do you mean? The report, of course! Why do you think I summoned you?" he blurted.

Also, unfortunately, the Moonlight Pack works a somewhat unorthodox caste system. Sure there were Alphas, Betas and the occasional Gammas, but these classes end up being only a little less useful than a title you write next to your name.

Many years ago, the Alpha abolished the ranking system based on this title system; adopting a more robust system(more like rigid) of hierarchy. Each person was classified based on their potential rather than real-life achievements. What does that mean? Well, whatever the hell the Alpha wants it to mean at the time. It could mean that Wolves that could shift 5 times in 5 minutes were ranked higher than those that could do only a measly four.

It could also mean that wolves that could run seconds faster will quickly move up the ranks than those that perform slower. In my case, those that had larger werewolf forms became bosses of the ones with smaller forms. I have no problem with some of these criteria, but obviously, there is a great neglect of technique and practical intelligence in these requirements. Which is why a werewolf that never sees daylight becomes the boss of me, who travels and wrestles with great opponents to get critical information.

To make matters worse, these commanding officers were assigned a special mark that could cause their subjects(in this case me) extreme discomfort and a sense of pulling as a means to summon them. Which just happened when I was ogling the beautiful Naomi.

"Oh" I pretended to clean my ears "Well, you should have just said so in the first place."

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