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Meeting A Werewolf


Meeting a Werewolf


Copyright 2017 Sean Eddings

Published by Sean Eddings at Shakespir




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Table of Contents


Meeting a Werewolf

About Sean Eddings

Other books by Sean Eddings





If you only like lyrical descriptive prose stop reading now because I only care about the emotions, thoughts, words and interactions of my characters which means that you even get to decide what they look like.

Chronologically this is the first story in the series, it is followed by Magic Transfusion, Accidental Betrayal then a Decent Proposal. I don’t consider this the best story so if you almost like this you should still try the others.

Sean Eddings.

Meeting a Werewolf

Well that was 2 hours I will never get back. Just because I have a tall, lean, heavily muscled body that is obviously perfect for winning the Olympics in rowing or javelin (if it wouldn’t get me executed for revealing the supernatural world) and a face that could really cash in with endorsements, my boyfriend expects me to work out with him so I have to waste my time pretending to struggle with weights that I could literally bounce off the ceiling with my werewolf strength, rather than just admiring the play of his huge muscles, rippling under his smooth skin. I got hot just from thinking about him which made it even worse that he ditched me after the workout session.

I stared at my latte, willing it to be as good as the sex I had earned and been unjustly denied when my hard-earned situational awareness spotted a man coming, hesitantly to hit on me. He was going to be a perfect target for my frustrations, he had clearly never been to a gym in his life and seldom left anything on his plate, so stretching and flexing of my muscles combined with derisive laughter and pointed comments at his body should see him slink away, trailing a delicious aroma of despair, completely unable to approach a woman for weeks, months or years.

“Excuse me.” he said nervously as he stopped at my table. He smelled incredibly nervous and pretty damn gorgeous, that is the human bits not the applied scents. It wouldn’t save him. I turned towards him and starting at his feet trailed my eyes up his body, starting then broadening a smirk as I went, breaking in to a contemptuous chuckle as I got to his upper arms, he might be the first human being not to have biceps. Finally I flicked my gaze dismissively at his cute face before looking back down at my coffee, picking it up but having to wait for my laughter to end before I could take a sip. It was a magnificent performance, my best ever, and would in all probability make him celibate or gay. I finally ran out of breath so my laughter stopped and I took a triumphant sip.

“Excuse me.” He said again with a bit more force, he smelled more of irritation rather than the emasculation my performance deserved. I didn’t even look at the annoying bastard, my drink tasted like coffee rather than triumph.

“I am not trying to pick you up.” he started out saying, like I haven’t heard that line a thousand times.

“I just need to as you a… strange but… VERY important question.” he went on talking to the top of my head. CAN HE NOT TAKE A HINT?

“Do you know why you look different from everyone else to me?”

THAT was his big line? THAT was going to get a pudgy weakling between my Sports Illustrated worthy legs? THAT was what he was harassing me for? I have had ENOUGH! I turned to him and with all the threat and menace I could muster while maintaining a proper tone and volume of voice said “Leave me alone.”

INSTANTLY his pupils dilated, his pulse spiked, terror and adrenaline cascaded from his pores and he RAN. Straight out the door. Straight down the street. Not looking back. As if his life depended on it. Shocking everyone, especially me. Everyone watched as he went, before some looked at me. The table of women next to me were laughing and clapping me. I laughed and did a miniature bow. That had never happened before, I can’t see him ever approaching a woman again. I might literally have made him gay or celibate. That might’ve been the greatest rejection in the history of womankind. Suddenly my day was looking pretty damn good.



I finished my last class at college for the day and went back to Pack Home, running into my brother.

“Glenn.” I called to him smiling, “I received a pick-up line today that even you couldn’t succeed with.” Probably not true, Glenn could pick-up a girl with any combination of words ever uttered in the history of the English language. “But I sure made him pay for it. He literally ran from me. Terrified” I lifted my arms in triumph and laughed, “It was the greatest rejection ever.”

Glenn smirked and asked, “What was the line?”

I put on my best nervous man voice and said, “Do you know why you look different to everyone else?” I wasn’t really happy with my delivery, it would need improvement as I polished the story.

Glenn just stared at me in disbelief before saying with outrage, “Katrina.”

“What?” I replied, this isn’t the response I expected for my story. What the hell is he going on about?

“You look different because you’re a werewolf.” He said, still with disbelief.

“Humans can’t see that!” I semi-shouted back at him.

He just stared at me, gesturing to continue with the thought.

“WHAT?” I fully shouted at him.

Getting angry now Glenn growled at me, “Who looks and smells human but can see the magic in a werewolf?”

So that is what my moronic brother was going on about, my anger was replaced with contempt which laced my reply, “He wasn’t a fucking witch, he didn’t smell like a cross between the spice aisle, a lumber yard and a herb garden.” I turned to walk away from the stupid bastard. He grabbed me and I swung around to hit him, only stopped by the smell of his emotions, he wasn’t angry, he was afraid.

“What?” I asked, softly for once.

“He has a highly developed hind-brain, just like a witch, which told him to run for his life from a pissed off werewolf. He can see you are different from everyone else, just like a witch can but he doesn’t smell like a witch.” Glenn said with a steadily raising voice before shouting and spitting into my face, “WHAT COULD HE POSSIBLY BE?”

An incredibly rare possibility came to my mind, turned into a near certainty and dropped me to my knees as guilt momentarily crippled me and tears started streaming down my face because of what I had done. I instinctively crouched over to protect my organs from attack but the pain wasn’t coming from without but from within. Finally I breathed the answer, the shameful, guilt ridden answer, “A wild witch.”

Glenn crouched down above me to hammer away at my sin, quietly musing, “An innocent wild witch, utterly ignorant of the supernatural world and we monsters within it. Wild witches can be powerful. He could be killed to eliminate a potential rival.” my guilt seared me like silver bullet in the guts.

“He could be killed to gorge on his delicious, magically infused flesh.’ I started to sob.

“He could be killed slowly, a limb at a time, and his flesh savored over months or years.” The whine of an abused cub issued from my throat.

“He could be enslaved by a coven, his magic harvested for the next 100 years.” What have I done?

“Perhaps,” he said more hopefully, “Instead of being found he might, just possibly find safety, perhaps a member of the supernatural police reserves of this territory who would protect him until he could protect himself? AWWWWW. So close.”

“ENOUGH!” I begged, “ENOUGH!”

“ENOUGH?” Glenn shouted in disbelief, “An innocent man has a quick death as a good outcome but ENOUGH because you’ve felt bad for a couple of minutes.”

Glenn walked away in disgust then, leaving me crying on the ground.


Eventually my guilt, shame and worthlessness cried itself out and I picked myself up off the ground. I urgently desired to go back to the cafe and start my search for HIM, his scent would be gone but it was the obvious place to center my search grid.

I did no such thing. If HE saw me, or any magic infused werewolf in his usual haunts at the moment he might just run all the way out of the country, and from the little I know of wild witches his magic could accidentally bring down a plane he was flying in. Instead I went to report to the Pack Alpha that there was probably a vulnerable, ignorant wild witch in our territory who needed to be found for his own sake, and my sanity.


I went in to give a military style report to my Alpha. “Dad,” I said in a small voice, “I fucked up.”


The look of disappointment in me on my father’s face nearly killed me but he came through. The search would be an official effort which meant I got paid and had access to subpoenaed video feeds. Every supernatural creature that could be spotted by a witch was banned from the area I saw HIM in order not to spook HIM. I couldn’t find any picture of HIM from the few cameras near where we met so I did my best to have a sketch artist draw him, I was never really happy with the picture so we would be relying mainly on my eyes. The second best minds in werewolf history had tried and failed to create a system to organize scent description of beings and animals… and failed completely. The very best minds in werewolf history knew better than to even try. Which meant we would be relying completely on my nose.

The main effort would have me parked on a street corner with lots of pedestrian traffic in order to try and smell HIM with three feeds from nearby cameras to examine in order to see HIM. I tried more cameras but just could not manage to examine them all and not miss one person on them.

Another way I spent my time was examining the yearbook photos of the 5 possible years of every school in the city, then the county, then the state, and in expanding circles started on the country. His accent meant I could skip the rest of the world.

A third way was driving around with the windows down, looking and smelling.

A fourth way was using my best, fur covered nose to try to find HIM. The wolf half of me is instinctive and emotional and wolves don’t feel guilt or the need to assuage it. My lupine half wouldn’t want to hunt and eat HIM, didn’t feel the need to find and protect HIM as HE wasn’t part of the Pack. That left me one course to keep myself motivated while on four feet, finding a MATE. Neither half of me considered my boyfriend mate material. I closed my eyes and concentrated on HIS handsome face, fanatically ignoring his body. HE is a wild witch, they are usually powerful, I imagined HE was my MATE, our strengths would complement each other in combat, my breath hissed out in appreciation. Our rivals in the PACK would bare their throats to US, I grinned with unholy glee. Our enemies would flee US in fear, I groaned with desire. I would feel safe in his arms and he would feel safe in mine, I barely resisted the urge to touch myself.

Feeling extremely motivated I shed my clothes, attached my flexible dog collar for camouflage, CHANGED and went to the van window which opened automatically due to a signal from my collar and jumped through to find HIM, to find my MATE.


I regained some human rationality while still 4 footed. I was absolutely starving and looked around and had no idea where I was. I trotted till I found my bearings. I was 20 miles from my starting point and by the sun it was 18 hours later. My furry half must really want a MATE. I hid in some bushes and changed into a naked woman to press the signal button on my collar for someone to come and pick me up as this was a far from unique situation. Examining myself I found my subcutaneous body fat was gone and my tits were even smaller than usual. I had drained myself during the search, apparently I REALLY wanted a MATE. I went furry again to wait, and managed to search another 2 miles while “waiting”.

Eventually my brother Glenn pulled up in the van I had left 20 miles away 18 hours ago, he opened the door and I jumped in before scrambling into the back. There was a party sized pile of my favorite fast food there so I immediately CHANGED and started eating like a ravenous wolf while naked. You just have to keep your priorities straight. The absolute greatest of meals known to werewolves is ripping into the steaming flesh of your prey with your PACK around you after a hunt. Nothing else can compare, but tasty meals eaten while human dwarf the pleasures of small prey caught or food scavenged on four legs. That explained my hunger and the lack of missing pets along my route.

Through the pleasures of the food I could vaguely hear Glenn whining, “have to do this today…” “you know I have busy Thursdays…”

I swallowed my latest bite and refrained from immediately taking another in order to shut him up, “Just as well it is Wednesday then.” I said snidely before taking another huge bite. This stopped him speaking and he just stared at me in the mirror before starting to helplessly laugh at me. I actually stopped chewing as it dawned on me. It was Thursday, I had been searching for one day and 18 hours… I must REAAAAALLLLLY want a mate.


Hour after hour of grinding concentration. It is hard to pick a man who you have just seen and smelled once out of a crowd, or an old picture, or a video, and I might only get one chance so I had to examine every person in every grainy video, every person in sight no matter how distant, every person I could scent for HIMness as if a life depended upon it. Combined with my nagging guilt it was easily the hardest work I had ever done. At least it would get easier as I grew practiced.

Somehow it did not. Impossibly, each new days search was even harder than the hardest thing I had ever done. My fatigue, guilt and despair accumulated faster than my skill at searching. I knew I needed rest and recreation but A MAN’S LIFE WAS ON THE LINE. I repeatedly blew off my boyfriend’s contacts. I don’t deserve sex when A MAN’S LIFE WAS ON THE LINE.

My boyfriend blew me off permanently.


I spent more and more time with a big nose until examining the gps in my collar after one search showed I had spent all my time harassing squirrels in a park rather than searching for a MATE that I had once been desperate to find.


After a month of… nothing, my father eliminated all police support, including my pay for the search. He had given up, but I am made of sterner stuff, which was a total shock to me. It was the first time in my adult life that I had surpassed my father in anything worthwhile. That might be the only good that will come from this whole situation.

My life then consisted of 2 footed walking searches, driving searches, sleeping whenever and wherever my eyes or nose got too tired, just pulling to the side of the road, climbing into the back of the van and passing out. I could no longer manage sitting searches, I would just zone out, seeing and smelling nothing without the release of sleep. Eating while searching. More than once sleeping while shitting, i.e. falling asleep on the closest available toilet.

Occasionally I even managed to find the time to sleep in a bed.


I slowly woke up in a warm, soft bed, my own warm, soft bed feeling wonderful and vaguely wondered why?

In the midst of luxurious stretching I realized that I wasn’t tired… and it felt wonderful. With this burst of energy the search would finally be easier for the next few weeks. I started to jump out of bed… and didn’t move a muscle.

“Get up you lazy bitch.” I said with contempt… and didn’t move a muscle.

A little concerned now I repeated to myself the ultimate motivating words, “A man’s life is on the line.”… and didn’t move a muscle.

With a jolt of fear I desperately examined myself, and realized… I was done. I could not bare to spend another minute searching for HIM, even though he would probably die if I didn’t find him. Tears of shame started to stream down my cheeks and most pathetically of all, I prayed with all my heart that HE, an innocent man, was already dead so it would not be my complete lack of character that killed him, just my momentary incompetence.

I stayed in bed and alternated sniveling like a teenaged girl the first time she gets dumped and staring at nothing (just like the contents of my character.)

The next day I was dragged out of bed by my brother who didn’t mention a thing about my abandonment of the search, my abandonment of a life, my utterly pathetic character (when the going gets tough I stay in bed). No-one else said anything either, undoubtedly under threats of extreme violence from my big brother. Indeed everyone went out of their way to be nice to the new PACK dependent who might look like a strapping 19-year-old professional athlete but was so utterly useless that even young PACK members barely into their teenage years would feel obliged to put themselves between her and danger.

Their contempt and derision, admittedly well concealed as friendship and support drove me out of PACK HOME within a few days. I tried hanging with human friends but their inconsequential interests were as irritating as flys buzzing about my head. I tried auditing some classes at college but didn’t manage to hear a word said. I tried exercise but what is the point of a magnificent weapon of a body without the courage to use it gainfully.

The only thing apart from sleep that provided me some relief was driving around. NOT proper searching, which was still beyond me but just scanning? skimming? browsing? provided me some relief. In order to make some money and as there was nowhere I particularly wanted to drive I became an uber driver for 16 hours a day, the least conversational one in the world. Something of a comedown for one of the brightest werewolves of her generation, perhaps in line to lead the PACK one day but those dreams, indeed any dream of being a contributing PACK member were gone.




Driving to a pick-up with my windows open, lightly scanning the environment with my eyes and nose a smell utterly stunned me, blinding me, freezing me. It is HIM. It is HIM. It is HIM. HE is alive. HE is alive. HE is alive. I regained sight and sense stopped inches from a car. The automatic braking had saved me, well saved the car actually as a crash isn’t more than an inconvenience to a werewolf.

Instantly I looked up wind (a werewolf ALWAYS knows which way is up wind) and saw HIM, almost unrecognizable because he was far thinner than I remembered. I almost yelled in celebration at being found not guilty of HIS manslaughter. HE hadn’t noticed me yet but that would soon change as I got out of the car, leaving it stopped in the middle of the street with traffic banked up behind it. I certainly wasn’t going to let HIM get away in order not to inconvenience traffic. I knew I was going to have to run him down and overpower him to make him listen to the “different” looking woman who scared him out his wits. Hopefully it was reasonable for a woman of my physique to do that to a man of his. If not, and I get executed for revealing the supernatural world. So be it!

Horns started beeping at me and a man started shouting at me through his car windscreen making HIM turn around to look at the commotion. With my werewolf sight I saw his pupils scan in my direction, focus upon me and then enlarge as he noticed me and adrenaline was dumped into his system.

I called out to him, “I know why I look different to you.”

I leaned forward to chase and… he walked straight up to me with relaxed body language and expression… and rabbit in the claws of an eagle terror pouring off him, almost stunning my nose into insensibility. Him overcoming and concealing that much fear was IMPRESSIVE. His muscles may not have been strong but his willpower more than made up for it. His willpower was a mountain compared to my grain of sand.

“Why?” he asked with a little quaver in his voice, so his control wasn’t perfect.

I really wasn’t ready for this part of the conversation yet and took a moment to orient myself. “Ahhh… You have to pass a test first, we probably shouldn’t do it standing in the way, here in the street with people yelling and honking at me.” I said I received further, thoroughly deserved aural abuse.

“I am not going anywhere with you.” he replied.

I grimaced and looked away from his eyes in guilt, “Yeahhhhh, I fully understand that. Sorry, but we need to be able to talk where nobody can hear us but it can be in public.”

We agreed on a picnic bench in the nearby park, I drove keeping him in sight or smell all the time. We sat down facing one another. I chose the wind at my back where I could smell any danger approaching from behind rather than the wind in my face where I could smell his emotions. I took out a jewelry box that had not left my person since the search began, out of my pocket opened it to see the silver bullet within and put it in the center of the table facing him.

“If you can fill that up I can tell you things you are dying to know.”

He looked at me and said, “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

I shrugged and said lightly, “If you can’t figure it out I can’t tell you a thing.”

He looked at me then slowly reached for the silver bullet and picked it up. He looked at the bullet in his hand and surprise, then wonder came over his face. There might’ve been a slight wooshing noise or I might have imagined it as he concentrated upon the bullet. Finally he reached over and put the bullet in front of me, smiled and said, “It is full.” He was excited, almost buzzing, the mystery that his life had become was about to be solved.

I looked at the bullet and remembered the pain that silver sucking the magic from my body caused and asked him, “Are you sure?”

The smile ran away from his face as he nodded at me. I looked at the bullet, then back at him, “Are you certain?”

He grimly asked me, “Are you accusing me of incompetence or lying?”

I recoiled a bit, taken aback by his sudden anger. Giving it more thought I realized that it was justified and ruefully replied, “I am fairly sure I am accusing myself of cowardice.” before reaching out and grabbing the bullet in my fist rather than just glancing against it as I had initially intended. There was…

No pain. I exhaled in relief. The bullet was full of magic. He was a witch. I started to smile. He was actually in danger. Dropping out of college and spending my time, indeed breaking myself looking for a complete stranger was the greatest thing I had ever done. I leapt to my feet in triumph while my trophy watched on with surprise. As the emotional, instinctive wolf in me took over I danced around exuberantly like a cub, almost yipping with excitement.

“Why are you so happy?” he demanded while I smiled at him and continued to release my stress through dance.

He stood up and grabbed my arm in order to stop me so I stepped forward put one hand on his butt and the other around his back and lifted him up so we danced around together whether he liked it or not. He struggled at first, completely futilely, before succumbing to my infectious happiness, or my werewolf strength and put his legs around my waist and arms around my neck and tolerated, perhaps enjoyed the ride. Only when my conscience started shouting that I was approaching the limits of a woman athlete’s muscular endurance to any onlookers, he had no doubt I wasn’t just a woman, did I finally put him down.

He took a step back and asked, “What are you?”

Still feeling playful twirled around with a smile and said, “Just a happy girl.”

He was not feeling playful and growled at me, “What am I?”

“What do you think you are?”

He hesitated, every fiber of his being screaming not to voice his embarrassing, insane thoughts, searching my eyes for respect? Permission? Cataracts? Finally he said softly, “I think I am a magician.”

I laughed at him and asked, “Did my rejection destroy your mind as well as your libido?”

He threw his arms out and his head back and grunted at the sky in frustration before looking at me and shouting, “WILL YOU BE SERIOUS?”

I stepped towards him, forcing him to take a step back and growled at him, “I have spent countless hours since I saw you looking for you in order to help you. I missed college in order to help you. My boyfriend dumped me because I was trying to help you. I BROKE myself in order to help you.” I finished somewhat hysterically with tears running down my face and a quivering chin.

HE watched me with concern as I amped up my anger to conceal other, more vulnerable emotions, “I THINK I HAVE EARNED SOME FUN.”

He just looked at me, stunned but not running from the pissed off werewolf this time. He took my hand, looked solemnly at me and said, “You damn well should be trying to help me after that rejection, I had to have my testicles surgically re-attached.”

I jack-knifed with laughter while he said with outrage, “It. Is. Not. Funny. I had to pick them out of my socks when I stopped running.”

I laughed helplessly while he yelled, “HOW DARE YOU LAUGH.” and then said sadly, “Lefty got squashed inside my shoe and hasn’t been the same shape since.

I fell over howling with laughter, snot and tears pouring out of me while he stormed off furiously. When I regained the ability to walk I ran after his scent only to find him coming back towards me with 2 cups of coffee. When we came together he handed me a handkerchief to clean myself up. I examined the handkerchief to see if it was clean before realizing what I was implying. “SHIT! Sorry. Didn’t mean to imply you would hand me a snotty handkerchief, I was just—”

I completely blanked on any other possible reasoning before he said gently, “If you keep on insulting me pretty soon we will be even… in one or two centuries anyway.” he said with a smile, forgiving me.

He handed me a coffee and as I took a sip he took a step to the side and said with outrage, “surgically re-attached,” Coffee surged up my nose and sprayed out my mouth, missing him and I laughed and coughed uncontrollably while he looked on with the innocent face of a newborn babe.

When I went to take another sip he started saying SSSSS making my coffee veer off. I thought of a way to fix him. I went face to face with him smirking before slowly taking a triumphant sip—

“Surgically re-attached.”

I snorted with laughter again but spitting coffee in his face was deliberate. I laughed more at the coffee dripping down his unmoved features.

Another sip. “Surgically re-attached.” And I spat in his face again. It wasn’t as funny this time.

Another sip. “Surgically re-attached.” I didn’t spit in his face this time. He had been a unbelieveably good sport and earned what he wanted to know.

I held out my hand and said, “Katrina.”

He shook my hand and said, “Lachlan.”

“Lachlan I am a werewolf… and you are a witch.”


I watched him absorb that and prepared for a torrent of questions about witches, werewolves and the supernatural. He took a deep breath, readying his verbal ammunition and started with—

“What do you mean you broke yourself?” he asked gently with exquisitely tender concern, choking me with emotion and almost sending me crying into his arms.

“That is what you want to know?” I managed to ask him, my features spread with distress.

“Yes.” he replied softly.

“That is more important than witches and what the fuck has happened to you life.”

“Yes.” he said without any doubts, rendered a liar by the frustrated yearning for knowledge which poured from him into my nose.

That completely unmanned? unwomanned? unwolved? unlupined? me sending a flood of tears down my cheeks and a puppies whine from my throat and he stepped forward to engulf me in care, support and his arms. I wished I hadn’t prematurely used unmanned? unwomanned? unwolved? unlupined? as I completely lost it, including motor control sending us slumping to the ground as I cried my stress, relief, self loathing… lots of emotions into Lachlan’s neck and he just held me, feeling warm and tender around me and smelling of care and concern.

I eventually regained my dignity and untangled myself self-consciously from Lachlan, a virtual stranger. We got to our feet and looked at each other.

“Sorry.” I said ashamed.

He smiled softly at me and not to be diverted asked, “How did I break you?”

I took a deep breath, looked away from his eyes in order to miss the contempt that would soon fill them and said, “I gave up looking for you.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw him shrug and open his mouth to speak but I talked over him.

“I wanted to keep searching but I gave up looking for you.” I said as I shook my head for the thousandth time in disbelief at how weak I was.

“Your life was in my hands but I gave up looking for you.” I said as I looked at my hands, immensely strong, the opposite of my willpower.

“I was your only hope but I gave up looking for you.” I said as I clenched those hands in self-hatred.

“I tried with EVERYTHING I possess to keep looking but I gave up looking for you.”

I stopped as I heard Lachlan’s staccato sniffing like a werewolf scenting the wind. No, he wasn’t sniffing he was snorting air out. No, he wasn’t snorting air out he was laughing. HE WAS LAUGHING AT MY PAIN! My rage crested like a tsunami over a seawall, he was never in any danger from me in the coffee shop but he was close to a gruesome death right now. I grabbed him by upper arms, instantly causing bruising all the way to the bone and cutting off the his circulation and was a hair-trigger away from flexing my back and wrenching his arms from their sockets, and perhaps from his body when I noticed the tears on his cheeks, too far down to be from the pain I had started to cause him. I released him to bend over and complete his hysterical laugh.

Finally he stopped laughing and straightened, holding his badly damaged arms in his hands and said through chuckles, “I was too afraid to leave my apartment after we first met.” He shook himself in disbelief. “No matter how much I tried I couldn’t force myself through the door.” He looked down at his belt and waggled it with a hand. “I ran out of food and went in four belt holes but I still couldn’t force myself through the door. The only reason you found me today is because I was kicked out for not paying the rent.” He started to laugh again. “We are absolutely pathetic.”

He was right, we were comedy gold and I started laughing and crying with him… and for some reason… feeling a little better.





About Sean Eddings

Sean Eddings is a lonely Australian man with an empty life. Occasionally he likes to feel as if he has a better life by imagining the emotions, thoughts, words and interactions of characters in a scene. At least nine times he wrote the scene down.

Contact Sean Eddings https://seaneddings.wordpress.com/contact/



Other books by Sean Eddings

Please visit your favorite ebook retailer to discover other books by Sean Eddings:


Katrina and Lachlan series

a Decent Proposal

Accidental Betrayal

Magic Transfusion

Meeting a Werewolf


Romantic Scene series

Romantic Scene 1

Romantic Scene 2

Romantic Scene 3


Fanfiction Scene series

Jean and Scott fanfiction from X-MEN Apocalypse

Declaration of Love – The Catch fanfiction scene rewrite


Intolerable Love

Meeting A Werewolf

  • ISBN: 9781370209538
  • Author: Sean Eddings
  • Published: 2017-01-20 21:50:09
  • Words: 5764
Meeting A Werewolf Meeting A Werewolf