On The Prowl


By Aura Wilming Sep 14 · 4 min read

You recognized them by the eyes. Everyone knew this. Hell, it was a full-blown cliche by now. That didn’t make it any less true. There were more signs; quiet confidence, fluid movements, a sense of being in control, superhuman charm. But it was always the eyes that gave them away.

And even if you knew it, looked for it, expected it, you’d never really got used to it — that cold chill running over your back when you looked into the eyes of a predator. That rush of adrenaline hitting your system.

Of course these days, people were so unfamiliar with a proper fight-or-flight response, they mistook the rush meant to prime the muscles for the action of either struggling for your life, or running for your life, with enticement. Sexual excitement, to be exact. People just weren’t raised to trust their gut. A fact of modern life. A fact Soleste had learned to use to her advantage.

She was at her peak, physically, mentally, and — let’s be honest — in the looks department as well. Her responses and body language were so honed it was almost an art form. She knew how to stand, how to smile, how to glance, that her target would be intrigued but not intimidated. She would appear wilful but never demanding. And it never took her longer than an hour before they would be on their way to the dwelling of his choice, be it home or hotel room. Home came with its own advantages, but Soleste preferred hotel rooms. Easier to slip away unnoticed.

That’s how she found herself entering an upscale apartment on the arm of a man. In his mind, he had picked her up. Soleste allowed him to think that.
She had to be careful now. Because even with all the signs pointing to her being right, she still couldn’t be sure she had the right target. There were many types of predators in the world. Soleste hunted for one very specific sort of beast.

This is where the tools of her trade came to her aid. If she played it right, she would soon know one way or another. And if she was wrong….The corners of her mouth curled up in a little smirk. There were worse things in life than picking up the wrong target once in a while.

He had noticed her smirk.

“What’s going on in that pretty head?” he asked.

Soleste let out a seductive little chuckle that was more moan than laugh. She knew how it sounded. She had practiced it many times. She gently pushed him into a chair. It was the perfect sort of chair for her purpose; a high back and no arm rests — almost a dinner chair. She made sure her purse was close by and sat astride his lap.

“I was just thinking about the things I am going to do to you,” she replied while playing with his chest hair.

“Oh? Like what?”

“Well,” she reached down to pull something out of her purse, “first, I am going to tie you up.” When she sat up straight again, her pair of fancy Gucci handcuffs dangled from her index finger.

A broad smile stretched over the man’s face. “Kinky.” He placed his arms around the back of the chair, as she had hoped. He seemed very comfortable with the idea of being in handcuffs. Events hardly ever went this smooth.

Soleste opened the cuffs so she could close them around both his wrists at the same time. She leaned against him, head close to his ear, so she could reach behind the chair as well. “Once I have you restrained, I am going to have my way with you,” she whispered.

The man started to laugh. Soleste slammed the handcuffs closed and the laugh turned into a surprised howl of pain. She jumped up and back.

“Pure silver, you bitch! Burns, doesn’t it?” she yelled triumphantly.

She quickly pulled a second pair of handcuffs from her purse and managed to get them closed around his ankles before he recovered from the shock of the sudden pain.

The creature fell off the chair and trashed about on the floor, snarling and growling. Its face contorting as it tried to take on more canine features before shifting back to human, the silver handcuffs preventing it from transforming or using its supernatural strength. The smell of burned hair filled the room. thin ribbons of smoke rose up from the creature’s hands and feet where the silver handcuffs burned its exposed skin.

Soleste watched the werewolf flail and howl until it was too exhausted to move or cry out. Commissioning silver Gucci handcuffs was possibly the best move the organization had ever made. Even if they did orchestrate the most bizarre cover story for their creation. Or maybe it was less cover story and more happy coincidence. The organization liked necromancers as much as it liked werewolves, after all.

She took her phone and dialed the only number stored in it.

“This is Gemini. I found your lost puppy.” she said when her contact picked up.

“Copy. Wait for Aquarius to collect.”

Soleste put her phone away and squatted in front of the bound creature. She smiled. “Up for a walk at the docks, boy?”

The man, half naked, drenched in sweat and with a pained snarl on his face, didn’t respond. He just stared at her. For all the hate that filled his eyes, they no longer sent a chill down her back.

One thought on “On The Prowl

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