...according to folkore in the middle ages, of course ;) You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?
By Mina Carter
I write wolves a lot, so over the years I’ve done a lot, believe me a LOT of research on them and the mythology that surrounds them. Some of the most fascinating are the instructions for becoming a werewolf. Yeah, there’s the obvious being bitten by one, but that tends to cast you in the role of victim. What about those who intentional seek to become a werewolf (without the obvious becoming lunch part of the whole deal?)
There are various methods in folklore, from the simple to the ridiculously complicated (like me trying to read a cookery book). The simplist method is
the removal of clothing
and putting on a belt made of wolfskin, although no mention is made of how you
would go about obtaining such a belt. I mean, I’m pretty sure the wolf in
question wouldn’t be too pleased about that. In other cases the body is rubbed
with a magical salve, and in certain areas of Europe it was said you could
become a werewolf by sleeping outside on a certain wednesday or friday night in
the summer with the full moon shining on your face. Another tale suggests
drinking water from a wolf’s paw-print. Again, seems a little risky to me if there
are wolves in the area, although another tale seems to suggest that being born
on certain days such as Christmas day, or a full moon was the trick. The most
common way to become a werewolf though, appears to be through a curse so
apparently just annoying the wrong person could get you a furry problem every
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The werewolves in the Lyric Hounds series are mainly born werewolves. In their world, the trait is passed down through the family, like eye colour and hair colour. Not all those born to a werewolf family will be a werewolf, they’re what is known as a potential. Saxon, the heroine in Wolf-Bond, is one such potential, her wolf dormant until a death comes a’knocking, then the wolf comes out to play...
Wolf-Bond (Lyric Hounds 2)
Barrett Simmons, head of security for the famous rock band, Lyric Hounds, has managed to avoid the band members’ less-than-subtle matchmaking attempts. Since the woman he loved was killed in action, his heart has been as dry and dusty as the sands she fell on. He doesn’t want to date, in fact he can’t think of anything worse. But he didn’t count on his sister, Melody, making a call to Madame Eve....
A car crash to two years ago left werewolf Saxon Reeves with amnesia and nightmares—but the nightmares aren’t of the crash. Instead she dreams of a soldier. A human soldier she can’t get out of her head. When her family pushes her to mate with a wolf from a neighboring pack, she decides on to take one night, just for herself, and contacts 1Night Stand.
The last thing she expects when she walks through the door is to come face to face with her soldier....
He froze at the soft sound, index finger poised over the screen. Shit, she’s here. He glared at the door as though it were a creature from a nightmare. Fuck, what should he do? Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and opened them again.
Okay. It didn’t matter who the woman on other side of the door turned out to be. It made no difference if she was a walking wet-dream, he couldn’t do it. He didn’t want a tall, leggy supermodel or the ultimate fantasy, he wanted small, curvy and sassy. He wanted Sax and always would.
Putting the phone back on the table, he strode across the room, his decision made. He’d let the poor girl in, explain the situation, then leave. She could have the room for the night and he’d reimburse Madame Eve whatever costs were necessary so his date wouldn’t be out of pocket. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise. She expected a night of romance and…. He cut the rest of the thought off. Not her fault he couldn’t go through with it.
Approaching the door, he paused for a second in front of it, hand flat on the smooth, cool wood. His heart ached, throbbing as a pang of longing filled him. He’d heard stories of Madame Eve’s abilities, whispered rumors of more-than-human abilities spanning time and space that she brought to bear to create a perfect match. Why couldn’t…. He sighed. Time and space, but not death itself, and the last time he checked, the Grim Reaper didn’t run a matchmaking service.
He reached for the door handle.
Time to face the music.