The Golem of Solomon's Way by Jon Messenger

Author:Jon Messenger [Messenger, Jon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Clean Teen Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2015-11-09T16:00:00+00:00

Mattie had grown up in a tribe, concealed within the foothills of the frozen north and west of the continent. Her entire family had lived together in a fur-lined hut, eating, sleeping, changing, and bathing in front of one another out of necessity. It had been far more unusual for her to go a day without seeing someone naked than not. Furthermore, she was a werewolf, as was all her tribe. During their transformation, they were required to be naked. It was a brutal process during which bones knitted and reformed and their flesh—her flesh—was ripped from her body like sheets of paper, fluttering aside to reveal the wintery pelt beneath. She had stood beside her brethren for nearly two decades, rows of naked men and women preparing for the change. It hadn’t been sexual, at least not during those times of being naked. She hadn’t always associated the naked form with pure sexuality but more of a natural progression of her transformation. Never would she have believed that the naked form could embarrass her so.

After four hours at the Ace of Spades, Mattie had been thoroughly proven wrong. Naked burlesque dancers had taken the stage one after another, retiring only after reaching a certain level of undress. Ladies—and she used that term loosely—twisted and contorted their bodies into positions she wouldn’t have believed possible. More than once, she blushed and was forced to look away. She had been in the Ace of Spades before and had seen Veronica perform, never believing that her performance was one of the tamest of the night.

The men drank in the dancers’ sexuality like wine. They cheered and jeered from their seats. Men of wealth lined the stages like dogs begging for table scraps. They salivated and clutched tightly to the edges of tables, watching immutably as the women gyrated and swayed. It was primal, and the air stank of sex and musk.

To Mattie’s delicate senses, the scent was overwhelming. It radiated from the crowd in waves of unrequited passion. Their yells and cheers became a seamless drone where individual voices were lost to the call of the masses. After hours of being exposed to what she considered the worst of mankind, Mattie was left feeling nauseated.

When Veronica appeared, once again dressed with no lingering reminder of the naked woman who had recently taken the stage, the redhead was more than ready to leave. A few men tried to address Veronica as they walked toward the door, but Mattie’s guttural growl silenced their voices before they could speak. The werewolf within her yearned to be released, despite the fact that she had no true target. If she could have ripped out their collective throats, she would have.

Exiting the burlesque house, they were struck by the cool night’s air. As effective as ice water against warm skin, the cool air returned Mattie’s sense of control. She took a few deep breaths and closed her eyes, blocking out even the glow of nearby establishments.

“Are you feeling all right?” Veronica asked.

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