A different take on the traditional M/M werewolf romance topic: less romantic, less traditional, more disturbing and with conniving wolves, vampires and submissive marines.

Comments or requests for more of Meta (& the Marines) can be emailed to Meta.JohnAR@gmail.com.

And if any military boy wants to start a MetaPack, let me know ...


Meta & the Marines II



It was shortly before noon, when Colt came into the kitchen finding the wolves laughing together at some joke told by Brian.

"Morning, Colt, good sleep?" Prime asked with a smile as if they hadn't gone through the mind numbing experiences the day before.

"Was okay. Everyone okay?"

Nods, curious smiles.

"How are you, Seb?"

"Shifted this morning, so I'm fine now. Now that was quite a night ..."

"You can say that," Prime answered proud that his younger brother took things so calmly.


"Fully recovered, Meta. Also my injuries from over there are gone after the shift. Seems I'm not going to get bored when I come here for good ..."

"Not likely," Colt said with a dry voice. "Sam?"



"Colt, what's with the luggage?" Prime asked pointing at the black plastic shell suitcase.

Colt swallowed when he looked into those sad green eyes showing him fog-covered mountain forests. "There is something difficult I need to tell you guys; and I'm afraid of it."

Nobody said a word, everyone staring at him.

"You know what Brian said yesterday about my dream?"

"Which made you expect this bitch trying to kill you?" Isaac asked the clarifying questions.


"Well, I think it was a premonition," Brian repeated yesterday's assessment.

"I think you're completely right, Beta. It was. Which raised a big fucking hairy question," Colt continued.

"Not again," CE said as if thinking: `Could you please stop asking all these questions? My head is spinning like in a washing machine.'

"Brian. Can you tell the pack who has premonitions?"

The heads turned, everyone looking at the blond jock.

Brian cleared his throat and said with an unusually meek voice: "Colt, I mean, I could be wrong."

"Say it." Colt didn't let him weasel out.

"Vampires. Vampires have premonitions."

"Oh," somebody said.

"Come on, Colt isn't a vampire," Prime protested.

"That's stupid," CE insisted. "This guy kills vampires like other people have breakfast, you saw it yesterday. Pulled arrows out of me."

"But Brian is correct."

"What do you mean?"

Colt felt that the pack got really worried. He took the letter he had gotten months ago and had never tried to share with his pack. Now he had to do it. "Here read this."

"Another gene test?" Prime asked. "There is a match. Who was it?"

Colt took a deep breath saying: "Betsy. -- The vampire Shaman is my mother."

"No way," Sam protested.

"Colt, that doesn't ...," Brian started.

"Oh, it does. I have the proof that I have vampire blood in me. At least from my mother's side. I have the proof that I'm a vampire as I have premonitions and you've always known that I can smell them. Conclusion: I am a vampire."

"That's not right," CE insisted.

"It isn't, I hate the thought even more than you do. But I need to assume that I am. And that means that I might be dangerous to you as a pack. What if or when my real disposition takes over? You guys could get seriously hurt when it turns out I cannot control it." He briefly closed his eyes to suppress the memory of him shooting Prime.

"Please, Meta, let us work through this," Brian begged.

"So what do you want to do?" Prime asked fearing the answer.

"I have to leave you guys. You need to be safe."

"No, you can't go, you're our Meta. We need you," Sam insisted like a little child.

"This is stupid," CE repeated.

"I need to. Taxi is already here. Hotel room booked. And as of Aug. 1 I'll work anyway." Colt had been busy in the past hours to organize his departure.

"No." Sam.

"Thank you wolves for the past two years. Best time of my life. Good luck for your future. -- I'm sorry, but this is for the best," Colt said with wet eyes.

He turned around pulling his suitcase with him.

He closed the door slowly, channeling his strength and getting to the cab with determined steps. He couldn't change his mind anymore.

When he looked out of the window to the wolves' house, he started to cry silently. "Go," he told the driver. Nobody was running to him to get him back. "Go," he insisted.

He was alone again. Like he had been two years ago.

At the end, it had just been a dream as MaryAnn had said. A long, beautiful dream. But a dream nevertheless.

"Bye, wolves," he whispered. `This is for your best,' he added in his mind. He couldn't tell anyone that he'd had another premonition the moment he had touched the colt at Christmas. He couldn't tell anyone, and especially not Prime. Colt had seen who he would kill with this weapon. He had seen himself killing Prime.

And now he knew his premonitions were going to happen. He would kill Prime if he didn't leave the pack. And he also understood now why.

Note: This concludes "Meta and the Marines II's (MetaOrigins)." For all MetaBooks sequels, check my website www.amazon.com/author/johnar.