>CLICK<

Found a huge stash of tapes that I'd recorded over the years. After listening for a few hours, I decided to pitch them. Not who I am anymore. Sure, I'm still the same loud mouthed punk that gets drunk sometimes, but things are taking a turn in my life and I feel like I'm settling down a bit. More than a bit. Something's happened and I've never felt so at ease, peaceful inside.

Everybody has a soul mate. And I know I've found mine. Even though we're opposites in some ways, in more ways, Paris and I are completely the same. We can sit quietly for hours and simply be there. Not that we do that, very often. Laughter and soft moans, that's what fills my house now.

I guess I should start from the beginning. So there I was, sitting in the Market, eating a sandwich after visiting with Sadie and the crew from the Deli. Out of the blue this guy, this amazing, hot guy walks by. I couldn't help it, I pretended to stretch and my hand hit his arm. We both said sorry, and the guy started to leave. I couldn't just let him walk away like that!

So that's how we met. Chased each other around the Market for a while. Ended up kissing in a changing room in some clothing store. He kisses like no other. Found out he was a virgin. I couldn't believe it. But it's true.

I can't get over how he makes me feel. Finally comfortable with myself, very comfortable with him. It's like we can talk about anything. We're getting serious, but we don't take each other too seriously. I love having him in the house. He's just, amazing.

He's pureblood and it doesn't bother him that I'm not. He says I'm lucky that I can hide easier from hunters. I can't imagine what it was like for him, being chased before. He's not afraid, no. Just wary of those that would do either of us harm. As for me, anybody touches a hair on his head to harm Paris is a dead man.

>click<

>CLICK<

We're on our way to Peru. I brought Paris with me, of course. Ever since I met him, we've been inseparable. It's so funny that just a few weeks ago I didn't even know who he was. Now I can't imagine a day going by without him in it. He's amazing. I'm learning so much from him. About the culture of our kind, and patience. I'm definitely learning patience.

But, he didn't make me wait for too long.

There was an incident at the airport. We got checked in and Paris started growling, trembling. I thought a steak dinner would help ease his anxiety. But we didn't stay long enough at the restaurant for our food to be brought to us. Paris wasn't in a good place and I was going to make damn sure he got the hell out of there before something bad could happen.

In the parking lot, Paris bit me. Not hard, but just enough to cause me to bleed. It was incredible, the feeling of feeding the one I love so much, with my own blood. Lots of people say they'd give their lives for the ones they love. But would they really' We got into the car and I offered my throat. Paris, in his feral state, could not resist. He fed freely, and I allowed it.

When he was done, I had nearly passed out. He lay me on the the backseat of the car and drove to a hotel nearby. I really don't remember much about getting there. We had steaks for dinner, and that helped me to feel better. As the evening wore on, I felt better and better.

Paris told me he loved me. I was so sure that he would keep me waiting, just to hear him say it. And then we made love. I gave myself over, fully. Even in his inexperience, he was amazing. Naturally rough, his feral side emerged and I've never experienced such pain in all of my life. But it was fantastic!

Then we slept. The damn receptionist or whatever the hell she was, called to let us know we were supposed to check out. Woke us up. Told her we're staying and hung up. While Paris was taking a shower, I made a few phone calls and planned an entire day for us.

The day was spectacular. Every minute I spend with Paris I fall more deeply than I ever imagined that I could. He's so refined, yet so feral. I keep using that word, but none other describes him. When his eyes turn from green blue to almost solid dark green so dark it's nearly black, and he snarls and growls, claws and bites....truly something beautiful to watch.

Asked him to marry me. Coward that I am, I had it set up with the restaurant that he and I went to. There were very few people there, and we really didn't stay long. And he said yes! A ring on his finger, and we're going to pick out one for me later this week. How truly blessed am I?

Got to go. Paris just turned off the water, done with his shower. Will report back in Peru.

>click<

>CLICK<

Didn't take me long to find Paris. And, really, I'd have found him a lot sooner if I'd just paid attention to what was going on in Peru. I had left there on another photoshoot, but kept an eye on the news there, just in case. Sure enough, there was a news report, then another, and then another. Bodies mangled and slashed. Hearts torn from bodies. The locals were on a hunt for a werewolf. I didn't even finish up the photo shoot. Told Marcia I had a family emergency and left.

Got to Peru and it was worse than I thought. People were scared. I couldn't understand a single thing that they said, but I could see it in their eyes, smell it in their sweat. They were terrified of the "monstruo terrible de lobo." I checked into the same hotel that Paris and I had stayed in and waited for night fall. Then I packed up my alice pack and headed out into where they said the attacks were concentrated. The smell of dried blood and rotting flesh almost caused me to pass out. I tried to keep the sadness from welling up inside of me. This might have been prevented if I had only stayed and looked harder for Paris. These people's bodies, their blood, all on my hands.

Still, Paris is and always will be a hunter. Who are we to deny what and who we are? He has the fortune of not having been a human, not having a conscience about harming another human being. Do unto others, they always say. It was what I was raised on. But in the heat of a hunt, the adrenaline, sweat, fear, blood and tears of the fleeing prey; even I forget that I'm partially human. There's a certain freedom that comes from letting go of that human side and just being what I was destined to be.

Anyway, off topic. So there I am, in the woods. All sorts of blood and rotting flesh, as well as leaves, stagnant water. What I'm trying to say is that I couldn't have caught his scent even if I had tried. I must have walked in circles for hours, yelling at the top of my lungs for him. When dawn was about to break, I made a small meal out of a couple of rabbits, set up my tent and crawled on my cot for some sleep. I didn't get much sleep, because just as I was drifting off, the zipper of the tent ripped opened and in stumbled Paris.

I didn't realize it was him at first. He was still in his natural form, and the wolf before me was shaking with excitement, adrenaline, snarling and advancing slowly. He had the thrill of the hunt in his eyes, that feral look that I spoke of before. But this time, it was directed at me. I don't think he realized it was me, as well. I mean, I had been stomping through some nasty mud and such during the day and wasn't exactly smelling like a fresh daisy.

He kept moving towards me, snarling, snapping his teeth. It wasn't until I reached out, yelling over that snarling, and touched his nose with my hand. I couldn't think of anything else to do. I mean, first instincts were to become what he was, a hungry wolf, ready to kill for the thrill of blood and the taste of flesh that will never be satisfied. But Paris, by the look of him, had been at it for far too long. And if his sanity were to be saved, he needed to step out of it. This is what Paul taught me, before we parted ways. The longer you remain feral, the more of your mind you lose.

It seemed to work. Paris backed off, he looked so confused and whimpered a little. He kept snapping at me, though. I could feel him calming down, slowly but surely. Eventually, he lay down and fell asleep. I don't think he'd slept for days. I think he was exhausted, because he must have slept for more than half of the day and into the night. I stayed with him, making sure he was alright. While he slept, I brought in water and rags and did my best to clean the blood from his fur. I watched out for him, as I know he'd do the same for me.

When he did wake up, we did not talk about what had happened over the last few days. I saw enough headlines that read "monstruo terrible de lobo" to know that he killed at least six men, all in two and a half days. If he chooses to talk about it, I will listen. Much to learn from him, hunting styles and techniques. Much to be admired. For as gruesome as the papers make it out to be, I know in my heart that he made the hunt last as long as possible. A true hunter, a true monster, a true killer. And I am so happy that he is mine.

>click<