Gabriel John Brandt: A Short Story

For future reference, it was the werewolf’s fault. It was always the werewolf’s fault. There is no other reason that Gabriel John Brandt would have gone so utterly and completely insane. After all, lunatics were lunatics because they were moon mad, and werewolves… Well, the story wrote itself.
Jason with his werewolf nose for pheromones told Gabriel that Imani, beautiful Imani, was interested in him, that he could smell it on her. Damned werewolves. Jason could be wrong, of course. Just because he was a werewolf in love, and good for him and all that, didn’t mean Gabriel would find it. All his dating possibilities had gone bust recently or been Eric’s skeevy hand-me-downs. No, thank you. He was done with that.
And Eric? Gabriel’s freakin’

Then Imani moved away on light feet to Guy and the cabal of dancers and acrobats taking up space in a certain part of the apartment away from the musicians.
There were other moments together afterward that were probably innocuous individually. They danced together a few times when they were at the club for Eric’s birthday. As a musician, he simply didn’t have dance floor moves because he was usually too busy making other people dance. She made him not feel awkward at all. Granted, that wasn’t something he normally felt, but it was possible in certain circumstances.
After Eric had given her that sexless orgasm (oh, the wonder of being able to control electricity) and she threatened to pull Gabriel into his room to do…things… to him. Well, things were some of his favorite things in the world. He loved things. He realized he would very much like the opportunity to do things with her. Especially and particularly if she wasn’t still part of a couple with Guy, which his stupid ass werewolf friend said wasn’t very likely any more given how she