Werewolf ISO Hunter

I'll be honest: I have a type. Most "people" do, but here at the Paranormal Dating Services Inc. (PDSI) my taste in partners is a little...frowned upon. Still, they make some exceptions for people like me. Thankfully or maybe regrettably, I also have my friend Daeva looking out for me. She helps me steer clear of potential dangers I should be concerned about, but am not. She knows what to expect from me by now, but that doesn't mean it annoys her any less. So, how did a class act like me wind up signing up for a dating service? Well, my taste in men definitely had something to do with it. The other reason is Daeva.

While she has been introducing me to prospective partners for years, I've found many of them distasteful. The price of pedigreed partners is just not worth it. Sure, they all look great but beyond that they don't really have much going for them. They lack charisma, charm, relatability, and personality, not to mention they have "special" dietary needs. I'm a bitch who loves adventure and gains pleasure in the spice of life known as variety. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a swinger or anything. I'm 100% loyal to my partners once I commit, but committing to a bore is a cumbersome task for someone like me.

I find I'm much more attracted to a different, more cunning and interesting type of suitor. Challenges stimulate me in a variety of ways, especially those of the romantic and sexual variety. It is only natural, or rather; it would be if it didn't mean an easy extermination of my species. You see my type is considered more than just problematic for my kind, it is lethal and deadly. I'm playing "Russian roulette" every time I walk into a bar. Truthfully though, all rounds are loaded. Why do I say that? Because I've only ever been attracted to one type of being: the hunter type.

Humans, ogres, vampires, whatever species; I'll pick the hunter out of them all. I've got a great nose! The one most likely to kill me is the one I'll sniff out first thing. What a huge built-in survival flaw, right? I think those instincts were supposed to help protect me, not place me right in the line of danger. However, that just isn't how it is working out for me. Why do hunters have to be so damned smart, witty, and alluring? Not to mention, they smell so unbelievably delicious; like a rare steak seasoned perfectly. But the rational side of my brain knows, "Of course they would! They use the same colognes to attract paranormal prey. Isn't that obvious?" Still, I can't help but fall to temptation.

I've been lucky so far. Many of the ones I've met have been so drunk off their asses that they had to have been off duty. Some were what I refer to as the "philosophical type" who were more excited about conveying their points during conversation than noticing the obvious werewolf in front of them. All they saw was a beautiful woman in their midst with a keen ear turned in their direction, a ravenous appetite, and who was gone by the next morning. She always left them to wonder what actually happened. Ah, those were good times.

Now that I'm getting a bit older and wiser, the risk-reward balance has been weighing in. More than a few times, I've nearly been caught and that hasn't worked out so well for me. Want to know what a stalking problem is like? I went from predator to prey pretty darn quick in some places, and had to find clever ways to lose the hunters in my tracks. Was the cat and mouse/wolf and hunter game really worth it? I'd say not, but I can't deny that even some of that was a good time. At least it was; until I had to move a few towns or cities over. That gets a little expensive over time.

Daeva and my parents were also getting tired of my incessant moving. I put friends and family through a lot of hell in my adolescent and early adult years. If you're wondering about their opinions on the subject, my family was convinced that I was just going through a rebellious stage. More recently, however, they think I have a real psychological problem or at the very least it is something I'm not likely to grow out of. Coming from purebred, pedigreed parents is hard. They hand selected my friends, my school, practically my life all for me to turn out this way. They just don't understand; and you thought your parents were traditional. I'll give them credit for their protectiveness, but not so much for their pretentions. Thankfully, Daeva is a little more supportive in that regard.

"Do I really have to sign up for this shit?" I ask.

"If you want a chance at surviving your romantic encounters in life, then yes. As your best friend, I can't responsibly let you handle your love life the way you've been handling it. I would kind of like to keep you alive if that's alright with you." Daeva responds.

I sigh long and sarcastically as we enter the obscure building that is the Paranormal Dating Service. Daeva has worked here as a specialist matchmaker for some time; she only handles the pedigreed werewolf pairs and ensures all of their paperwork is valid. You wouldn't believe the amount of fraudulent claims she finds in a year.

"I just wish you would meet someone of your kind. Your wolf genetics are rare and hard to find; it's a real shame." she continues further.

I sigh again and add an eye roll, "You think I don't know that."

She shakes her head in frustration at me before falling into her own fantasies, "If only you had someone like my Wolfie."

Her smile and lovey-dovey eyes make me gag. I scoff and say, "You can keep your Wolfie. He's far too high maintenance for me."

"Nonsense. All of the wolf girls long for my Wolfie. He's the perfect build, dashingly handsome, intelligent, and impressively wealthy. He has a rare eye and coat color pairing that all the ladies love, not to mention his fur's softness. He looks good in a suit or in sweats, but especially you know." she adds with a wink.

"You're drooling. Forgive me if I'm unimpressed with someone who constantly drones on about the stock market, overseas banking accounts, and has a golf obsession." I comment matter-of-factly.

"And that, my dear, is why you are my best friend. I can trust that you would never try to take my Wolfie away from me." Daeva responds.

I add another headshake and eye roll before unenthusiastically saying "Let's get this over with."

The receptionist's desk at Paranormal Dating Services Inc. looked like any other desk except for the amount of unique fliers it portrayed. Pictures of every creature imaginable were tacked up around it. Certain rules were clearly outlined and various consent forms required signature. Did I mention how much I love red-tape? I know us paranormal creatures have to conceal ourselves from the rest of the world, but do we have to act like their governments? Who designed this system, elves? As I muttered to myself and signed all of the tedious appropriate documentation, I overheard Daeva and the receptionist's conversation.

"What are you doing here during off hours? I thought you had the preferred shift for A-lister scheduled appointments. Shouldn't you be out dining with your husband?" the receptionist inquired.

Daeva chuckled, "He has a tournament today with his colleagues somewhere in Europe. He promised a special date night when he returns. Today, I'm helping my friend with her paperwork."

"Oh, that friend?! The one with the unique...fetishes?" the receptionist adds.

Are they seriously gossiping about me right now?! And what do they mean by unique fetishes? That's absolute bullshit. It is a matter of taste and preference not some kink. Daeva better back me up here.

"That's the one. She has that hunter complex pretty hardcore. It's quite a troublesome fascination of hers." Daeva answered, throwing me under the bus entirely.

Now, I'm angrily huffing through this paperwork. Great, everyone here already thinks I'm a freak.

"In that case, she'll also need this set of forms. It has a special waiver she will need to sign, and discusses potential options for some of our other, more individualized, high-risk programs." the receptionist continues.

"I've never seen this set of documents before, and I wasn't aware of any individualized high-risk programs." Daeva comments.

"You wouldn't be since you handle a very specific, preferred section of our matchmaking system. Everyone needs to find love somewhere right? That is one of our core founding principles. We have to support kinks, fantasies, and fetishes. How else do you think we are able to sustain the company? At least this is consensual and perfectly legal, so it is slightly less risky to the parties who are attracted to potentially hazardous mates." the receptionist explains unabashedly.

Daeva, clearly mortified, returns to check on and present me with the additional forms.

"Great. More paperwork." I say, clearly pissed as I snatch the documents from her hands.

She doesn't say anything.

"What the fuck is this?!" I shout, loud enough that nearly everyone in the room turns their heads my way. I get a warning from the receptionist who mouths and signals "lower your voice." I do as she says and turn toward Daeva, "A therapy brochure: how to get over your kinks?"

"I thought it might help." she explains with a shrug, "I'm not so sure about this idea anymore."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't sure about it either, but you're the one who fucking convinced me to come here." I state.

"I didn't know they did business like this." she continued pointing to the new documents.

I roll my eyes, and continue completing the paperwork. At this point, what did I have left to lose?

"I can set you up with some of my clients instead. You already qualify for my matchmaking services. Besides, there are some nice candidates within our own species." she claims.

I throw my pen down. "I've already been using your matchmaking services for free, and so far it hasn't worked out. I'm sick of it. I'm not doing it anymore. You convinced me to come here, and now I'm here. I'm sticking with this."

Daeva is silent again. I hand my completed paperwork in to the receptionist's desk who smiles at me and whispers, "We'll call you."

Daeva and I make small talk on the way home, but eventually get over our tensions. We haven't been friends this long without learning how to handle our rough patches. She offers to buy me a drink at a local bar.

I take a couple sips of my whiskey sour, and she asks me who in the room I'm most attracted to. I point my glass at the man in the far corner wearing a light colored jacket drinking his whiskey neat. She heads toward the bathroom located on that side of the room. She returns shortly after and takes a seat.

"I'm sorry." she says.

I'm surprised and caught off guard by her apology and nearly spray my drink before asking, "For what?"

"Everything today: I know it would be more convenient if you were attracted to other wolves, but you aren't. I shouldn't be trying to force my or your parents' wishes on you, and that is exactly what I've been doing. You can't help who you are attracted to any more than I can. I just worry about the future, okay? I worry at how much it will change or endanger things."

I laughed. I don't know why I laughed because it wasn't very funny. She was being genuine, and this was a side of her I hadn't seen often. I rest my hand on her shoulder and say, "You did the right thing."

She gives me a perplexed look.

"Didn't you read over some of that paperwork you had me sign? If I enter into a relationship with anyone I meet at PDSI, my wolf identity is sworn to secrecy if any hunter gets involved with me. I even had to sign a high-risk insurance policy agreement with the company. They have special conditions for these types of things. Plus, hunters who desire "forbidden mates" don't announce it either. We've been looking at it all from a one-sided viewpoint." I explain.

"What?!"

"Yes, this specific program is a premium service with waivers and insurance. They even have special conditions for zombies and ghouls." I continue, and now realize why I laughed.

"But what do they do to keep a hunter from killing you?" she asks.

"Absolutely nothing once a relationship progresses outside of the agency. But, they do give me background information on all of my potential matches, and have several "in-house" dates arranged for all controversial couples. You're given an idea of what to expect during that time. The agency also weeds out some individuals who may be there as threats early on through very specific questioning. Many of them, however, can't even enter the building. PDSI has excellent magical security." I elaborate and finish off my whiskey sour.

"I guess that makes sense." Daeva says, stunned.

"Besides, check out some of these profiles. Most of these hunters are masochists. Do you think they want fellow hunters to know about their kinks? They want love too." I declare as I show her my phone.

She laughs.

"I was a bit sore about those fetish comments the receptionist and you made earlier, but I think I'm over it now." I confess as I take my phone back, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some prospective mate searching to do."

"PDSI is closed for the night." Daeva states.

"Yeah, well, I recognize someone on this list." I say as I show her a photo of the man in the light colored jacket.

"I thought that wasn't covered through your new insurance policy." she chastises.

"You can't teach on old dog new tricks." I say laughing, getting ready to make my move.

"And it says, he's a sadomasochist not a masochist!" she warns.

"So am I!" I respond with a wink, and make my way to his barstool leaving Daeva to pay for the drink she owed me.

Daeva places her head on her hand and sighs, "She's right. I really can't teach that dog new tricks."