I've just got the first couple of chapters done and would appreciate some constructive criticism. This is over 18s only as it contains sex and violence, so be warned. Jack Bruin is a "Bear shifter" as in he turns occasionally into a bear. He is a vampire hunter. Megan is a very attractive vampiress. Jack is in pursuit. Be gentle, I have an outline and it is moving forward. I'm not worried about editing at this point. ![oso-negro-black-bear.jpg](https://steemitimages.com/DQmabpgkMnW2N2uAReGTkh4chkjVoB7SWBVg3W887i7S3ZQ/oso-negro-black-bear.jpg) Megan Chapter one She could hear the sound of his footsteps on the creaking floorboards. He was making his way to the bedroom she surmised as she slowly finished the chilled glass of white wine in her hand. He would still be wet from his shower and she could sense his eagerness even from down here. She placed the glass delicately down on the table and rose from the comfortable leather couch and began to ascend the staircase to the bedroom. She was hungry for him and as she climbed the stairs she could feel her own body beginning to race as it prepared itself for the inevitable feast. “You glide in here like an angel,” he said with a look of admiration for her. Megan made her way to the side of the bed and placed a hand to his now smiling lips. She knew he was overwhelmed by her beauty. Most men were. Her long dark hair cascaded down over a perfect body, long and sensuous. “Relax and enjoy. No need for words, just enjoy,” she replied as she dropped her dress to the floor, revealing herself naked and perfect to him for the first time. His eyes widened as she sat down beside him on the bed and pushing aside the white fluffy towel he had wrapped around his waist she slid her hand on to his now hard and erect cock. Father David Macmillan could barely contain himself, but he knew self control now was everything. <><><><><><> Megan had walked into his church for the first time not two days ago and took a seat in the front pew as he gave mass to his small congregation. Her demure dress could not hide the long and shapely legs beneath, nor hide the look of lust in her eyes. The temptation was rising within him right there as he stood before the alter. Right there in his own sanctuary where nothing should penetrate it’s holiness. Penetration was all that filled his mind as he stumbled through the service before rushing outside to greet his parishioners. Megan was last to leave, as he had had a feeling she would be. She patiently waited for Mrs Mulwhinney to give her opinion of the sermon. Not a good one she thought. “Too rushed Father. Too confusing by half for an old dear like myself. Are you not sleeping well there Father? Do you not feel well?” she had said to the priest. And on she went for a while as Megan stood quietly back and the Father did his best to move her along home. Two years into his first parish and Father David was now used to the weekly sermon dissection by old Mrs Mulwhinney and as usual she eventually moved on, muttering to herself as she headed home. Megan was now stood before him. “Welcome, to the parish Miss erm…?” Father David stammered. “Megan. You gave a delightful service Father. Very reassuring. I’m sure the good people here appreciate your efforts,” Megan relied. The priest blushed deeply as he took in her beauty and looked away before taking a breath and replying calmly, “Thank you. I hope you took some comfort from it Megan. Are you just passing through or have you come to join my small but loyal flock here?” “I am passing through Father, I merely felt a need to uplift the spirit so to speak and you did that amiably. Now I would like a different spirit if perhaps you could direct me to the village pub?” She smiled as she laid a hand gently on his arm. Father David felt the red return to his cheeks for a moment before replying, “ Allow me to escort you Megan. I usually visit the pub after the sermon to count the custom. In the short time I’ve been here, the landlord of the ‘Nag’s head Inn’ has still more loyal followers than I do. And of course, if the good lord thought wine was suitable for his own flock, I shall join you if you don’t mind?” “Well now Father, that would be delightful,” Megan smiled as she followed Father David up the narrow lane to the local pub. <><><><><><> Megan slid her hand gently up and down his shaft watching with pleasure as his eyes widened then closed. Opened wider again to look down at her then closed with a gentle groan. As she moved her mouth over the head of his hard cock she could see the look of guilt and almost fear in his face. Perhaps this was something more than the good Father had experienced before and might take him over the edge too soon Megan pondered. She slid her mouth over him and allowed her tongue to work it’s way around the now bulging cock. His groans were becoming more persistent and she lifted her head smiling. “Perhaps David, you’d like to do that to me?” Megan asked with a cheeky, yet seductive smile on her face. Father David almost leapt up with a start as he nodded and beckoned her to join him on the bed. Megan lay herself down as Father David moved lower down the bed as he kissed and caressed her breasts, swirling his tongue around her swollen nipples. He could feel her beneath his lips, pushing her body up to his mouth and he was eager to accept. As he slowly made his way down her belly with his tongue he could see and feel her pushing up towards him. Writhing in pleasure as she anticipated his target. Megan wasn’t to be disappointed. The Father may well have been a man of the cloth now, but this was obviously a man who had considered chastity after learning a thing or two. She gasped and groaned as his tongue worked up and down her, snaking in and out and circling her. Father David knew she was just moments away and was surprised at how soon he was able to drive her so high. He wasn’t a vain man at all, but he did know he was attractive and kept himself fit. His crop of blond hair always hanging messily around his head like a naughty schoolboy. This was how he had managed to keep the small congregation he had. Megan obviously found him attractive too he thought as he continued to work with his tongue. He felt her hand on each side of his head for a moment pressing him hard down onto his and then, she lifted his head up and smiled at him. The penetrating gaze of her emerald green eyes. “Lie down David. I want to fuck you,” She said almost forcefully. David rose from between her legs and lay himself down again on the bed. He could feel the lusciousness of her embracing him as she lowered herself onto his erection. They gasped in pleasure together as Megan began to rise and fall on him. He could feel her massaging him inside her with every stroke. He knew he would not last long. <><><><><> It had been her idea not mine, David had convinced himself. It had been Megan that insisted on the next glass of wine before explaining she would be spending the night in her car as there didn’t seem to be any rooms available in the village. As David had blurted out the invitation to the spare room at his own home, he had felt then too that Megan had put that suggestion in his head. The safety of having Mrs Hardwick, the house keeper there should have made everything respectable of course. Villagers gossip and this village gossiped more than most he knew. But Mrs. Hardwick had left, and on the mantle was a note explaining she had gone to Alfredton to look after a friend and there were sandwiches in the fridge. She would be home tomorrow and not to spend too much time in the pub. Yet, David had extended the invitation and now here they were. On his bed. Making love. He hadn’t been able to refuse. There was an intensity about Megan and a commanding air that had almost guided his actions. He had made love before. Before he had taken his vows as a priest and given himself over to the church. Yes, he had made love and was good at it. It was one of the hardest parts of taking up the priesthood for him, but he saw that as a measure of his commitment. Leaving that world of vanity and lust behind was what he felt made him perfect for the role of guide to his flock. He thrust his buttocks upwards from the bed to meet Megan coming down on him. Her perfect breasts dancing before his eyes. He would leave for York early in the morning, he thought. Father Gillian would be able to keep his secret and take his confession. He would confess and Megan would be gone. A dream. A nightmare. A moment of weakness in a previously perfect reputation. Yes, in the morning he would drive to York and this would all be behind him. Megan stared down at him smiling. The large silver crucifix that David wore around his neck, sparkled in the light of the small bedside table. She could feel the energy within beginning to surge through her. She could feel the energy within David surging through him too. She lowered herself down towards him gripping his shoulders tightly in her slender fingers. Her nails sank into him and he responded by rising up to meet her as she slid her head to one side and nuzzled her lips against his neck. Together they groaned and shuddered as the pair of them began to climax. David felt himself swollen and thrusting as he began to ejaculate deep within Megan. Then he felt the teeth sinking into his neck. Megan bit deeply in to his jugular and began to suck. The blood flowed easily into her throat as she gurgled into a bloody orgasm. As David’s body became limp in death she lowered him to the bed and continued feeding from the wounds in his neck. Her sparkling emerald eyes were now a deep, dark blood red and her face twisted in almost revulsion for the corpse that now lay beneath her. This was how it had to be. There was no other way. The blood had be drained during orgasm. Megan would not have a problem achieving the mental state she needed to complete the task, but she did feel on occasion that the victim, or as she preferred, donor, should were possible share in the same pleasure for their last moment alive. She licked the wounds clean on his neck and watched as they slowly faded and disappeared. All anyone would find would be a grey, naked body with apparently no blood within it yet no wounds to explain it. Megan dressed and made her way downstairs to where she had left a small travelling case. She took it back up the stairs with her to where Father David lay and began to unpack. Around the room and the bed she placed a variety of sex toys and bondage magazines. There would be no noise or fuss when he was found. The church would be eager to hush things up once the report disclosed the strange circumstances Father David had been found in. A new priest would be rapidly dispatched to take over his duties and the sleepy village would carry on, non the wiser as to the strange death of Father David McMillan. Megan finished packing her small bag and silently left the house. Even if anyone had been awake at such an hour in the little village, nobody would see her leave and make her way down the lane . Nobody ever saw Megan leave. Chapter Two Jack Bruin lifted his large frame from the ancient, oak captain’s chair he had been sitting in as he worked at his desk. His office was wall to wall with books and documents. Sat to the side of his laptop, a pile of papers sat perched precariously. Jack pushed them together and closed the lid of the laptop. He was close He knew he was close to what he was looking for, or rather who he was looking for. His long blond hair swept across his face obscuring the steely gaze of his blue eyes for a moment before he swept it to one side and straightened himself up. He was tall, slightly over 6 foot 2 yet stockily built. He ambled out of the office and into a large sitting room. He stood for a moment to gaze around the large room before heading to the huge open fireplace. There he lit the prepared pile of kindling and added a few large logs to the quickly spreading flames. As the fire caught, it lit up the large sitting room, bouncing flashes of orange glow off the many portraits and adornments that almost haphazardly filled the walls. He sat himself down in front of the fire on a large Chesterfield settee and began to lace up his boots. “I won’t be more than an hour okay. Two at the most, I promise,” He said as he patted the head of a very large Portuguese Mastiff that was already reclining on the same settee. “No Freya. Don’t try the sad eye routine. We were out all day okay? I have to go and meet people. It’s important.” Freya had now sat herself upright on the settee and was staring straight at him. She lifted a paw almost pleading. “I’ll bring fish and chips back. Or maybe a pie? If Mary has made some pies I’ll bring you a pie. How’s that sound?” The dog climbed down and strolled over to the now well burning fire and flopped onto a large sheepskin rug set in front of it. Standing, she was a tall dog. Tall and as well built as Jack she was almost to his hip level. She gave him a backward glance before turning to the fire and ignoring him completely. Jack shook his head and chuckled. “A pie it is then. You’ll still be nagging me for a chip though I’ll bet.” He made his way out of the sitting room and into a huge entrance hall that led to the main entrance. From a coat rack standing in the hall he grabbed his leather jacket and slid it on. Here again, more pictures adorned the solid stone walls and on the flagstone floors, expensive but old carpets covered the parts that needed it and no more. Jack made his way to a small side door just off the main entrance and exited into the front of the house. “Keep on eye on Freya please George. She was looking a bit fractious,”Jack said. “ Very well Sir,” A voice from the shadows replied. “I shall keep her amused while you are out.” Jack nodded and continued out of the side door, smiling to himself. The last time George had got too close to the large dog, he nearly became dinner. George had learned to be careful since then. A bright and full moon lit the scene and showed the huge and antique mansion in all it’s glory. A well kept fountain and lawn set off the front of the house but around the sides was mostly dense and unmanaged woodland. Tall and wide oaks, centuries old spread their branches over a plethora of wild foliage. A large and wide boulevard led down from the house to a main road some half a mile away. This was the road Jack was heading for sat astride a Triumph Bonneville. A classic motorbike with no equal and Jack knew it. Any work time the huge garden didn’t receive was lavished on this bike. Jack knew every nut and bolt and smiled every time he climbed on her welcoming saddle. It was a short ride of ten minutes to the local pub nestled in a tiny village high in the Yorkshire Dales. Jack pulled the bike into the almost empty car park and turned off the engine. He knew the landlord of the “Flying picket Inn” would have already started pulling him a pint after hearing the engine growling into the car park. “Just in time Jack. Bill is just putting the team list up,” the landlord said nodding into the tap room where a group of men gathered at the dartboard reading a list. Jack took the proffered pint and made his way into the small tap room where a throng of men were eager to greet him. “Got you down as anchor Jack. Best damn anchor in Yorkshire right lad? We’ve got this good as won already,” Bill, the team coach announced on seeing Jack join the party. The main door to the pub swung open and in stepped a large man. Larger than Jack and the tap room fell silent. “Arthur? What the hell you doing here lad? We thought you were in the nick?” Bill said looking startled as the large man made his way to the dart board and peered at the team list. Arthur ignored the comment as he turned to face the coach. “Jack as anchor? Are you serious? I’m gone a month and you’re already replacing me?” Bill looked back at the team confused and angry. “We thought you’d gone down for six month Arthur. That poor sod you hit is still in hospital. Yes. I’m the coach, I choose the team and Jack is going to be anchor, so get over it!” Arthur sat himself down at a small circular table and moved the half finished drinks that were on it to another table. “Only one way to solve this I reckon Jack,” Arthur said as he rolled up his sleeve and placed an elbow firmly on the centre of the table. “Arm wrestle. Nobody has ever beaten me and no way you will. Winner gets to be anchor. Fair enough?” Bill stepped toward where Arthur now sat. He was short but stocky, yet his year were showing. “Did you miss that bit where I said I was the coach and I’ll choose the bloody team Arthur?” He snapped at the large man. Arthur was slowly rising from his seat, a look of anger on his face when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Pushing him back down to the chair. “Relax Bill, relax. You too Arthur,” Jack said as he sat himself down in the chair opposite the big man. “ Let’s give Arthur his chance. If he wants it that bad it would be cruel not to let him earn it right?” Jack raised his arm to match Arthur’s on the table. A willing team member moved out of the crowd and dropped two beermats on the table pushing them under their elbows. “Right Bill. As coach and all that, you can referee okay?” Alfred sneered. “Not that this will take long.” The two large men faced off across the table. Alfred had a fixed grin on his shaved and scarred head as he stared into the eyes of Jack. Jack smiled back, almost seeming as if he was just a spectator rather than the centre of attention in the room. “Right! No elbow lifting and flat down on the table to win. Go!” Bill snapped at them. Alfred hunched his body up to the table as he gripped tightly on Jacks hand and began to apply pressure. Jack, looked around the room with a look of panic on his face as his arm slowly edged closer to the table surface. “ That’s a fair old grip you’ve got going on there Alfred. You must have been working out in that cell of yours I’ll bet,” Jack said smiling as he looked down at the hand almost down to the table and into a small puddle of spilled beer. “But, I don’t want to get my sleeve wet so I’m afraid this is as far as it goes.” With that, Jack lifted the big man’s arm back the the centre and then easily down to the other side. Pressing Alfred’s hand hard against the table to a loud cheer from the onlooking crowd. “Best of bloody three Jack! You were lucky is all! My elbow slipped!” Alfred snapped back. The pain and shock of defeat obvious in his growling face. “Best of three Bill! Them’s the rules always was right?” Bill stepped forward to the table and eyed Jack. “Up to you Jack lad. You want to switch arms and go for best of three?” Jack changed his position on the seat and proffered his other arm to Alfred. “If you’d read any books while you were in the nick Alfie, you may have learned that polar bears are left handed. Fascinating right?” “So’s my bloody Auntie Mildred and she’s not a polar bear either!” Alfred retorted as he slammed his other arm on the table and gripped Jack’s hand. “Elbows always on the table and…..Go!” Bill shouted. This time it was over in an instant as Jack pressed the man’s hand down to the table in one quick press into the puddle of beer.” “G..rowlllll!” Jack said gently as he pouted at the fuming Alfred. The room filled with cheers and applause as Jack got back to his feet and bowed. “Bill? To be honest, now that Alfred is back, I would suggest he would be better at anchor anyway. I will go at four of five if that’s okay with you coach.” Bill slapped Jack on the shoulder with a huge grin on his face. “Whatever you say Jack. Whatever you say.” Alfred appeared between them a few moments later with a pint in each hand. “You done good Jack. Real good. Thanks man. This one’s on me.” Jack took the pint and nodded. “Thanks Alfred, that’s very sporting of you.” As the pub returned to normality Jack made his way to the bar and ordered a couple of the delicious home made pies to take home. He finished his beer and said his goodbye and left for the cool of the outside and his motorbike. A trip to the local fish and chip shop and soon he was making his way up the drive to the huge house he called home. George was at the door, buzzing gently at head height and Freya was sat patiently waiting. “Thanks for looking after her George. See Freya? A pie just as I promised. Jack said moving into the house.” “You are welcome sir naturally. You had a call from London while you were out sir, from an auction house. I said you would return the call tomorrow morning sir.” George said as he followed Jack into the sitting room. George, was the butler. But he was in fact a drone, built by Jack over several years. He had a fully integrated system more complex than any military drone and was totally self sufficient. George could learn and would remember the tiniest detail of any event for future reference. “Is this it George? The blade of Meredith? After all these years?” Jack asked slouching in a comfortable armchair and passing over one of the pies to Freya. Beside him on the couch he had spread out the now unwrapped packet of cod and chips he had got for himself. “Yes sir, I believe it is. I followed the call back and studied the private portfolio of the auction house. The dimensions all seem to match.” George replied. “You do understand that is very naughty George. Hacking is very much frowned upon these days.” “I am not human sir. Human laws do not apply to me only instructions as directed by yourself sir.” “Indeed,” Jack replied. “Well, I shall take the car to London. Can’t risk the bike down there. Place is full of thieves. Just like it always was. Nothing changes,” Jack said. “Very well sir. I shall program a route for Saturday,” George responded as he made his way out of the room towards a small cabinet. “Now Sir I need to do a data update and restore some power if you will excuse me.” “You go right ahead George. I’m off to bed just as soon as I’ve eaten this. I have feeling I may be stuck in the cave tomorrow.” Jack said. “Yes indeed sir. I shall make all the arrangements in the morning.” George replied as he sat on a terminal in the cabinet. Jack nodded and continued to eat his fish and chips, throwing an occasional chip at the large dog. <><><><><> Jack was awoken by the sound of George buzzing around the room playing old 70’s rock ballads. Always Jack’s favourites but not what he wanted first thing in a morning. It did the job though and Jack slowly stumbled out of the large four poster bed. On a large rug at the end of the bed lay the huge dog. Freya half heartedly raised her head and stared at the buzzing drone. “Best knock that noise off George I think Freya is eyeing you for breakfast,” Jack chuckled. The drone stopped the music and made it’s way to the bedroom door as Freya resumed her sleeping position after a long stretch across the rug. “I’m guessing you won’t be joining me in the cave today then Freya. Well, entertain yourself and stay out of the duck pond won’t you?” Jack commanded, knowing full well that the moment he was settled in the cave below the house, Freya would be heading straight for the pond to splash around and chase the ducks. “The coffee should be ready sir,” George commented as he left the room and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Jack gave him a casual wave as he left and headed for the shower. “On!” he grunted and the power shower began to spray from all directions as he stepped into it. The whole house, where possible was automated and George could monitor and control every room and fitting. Below the house and running through the cave, was a powerful underground spring that Jack had used to power a small hydro electric plant. This provided independent power to the whole house. Independence from the grid and society in general was a must for Jack and he he’d spent many years refining the technology. He knew the great and the good in the world of computers and energy technology were decades and more behind Jack Bruin. His would be the future eventually but he was never going to share it. This was about physical survival not money. Jack showered his tall and muscular frame, and made his way down to the kitchen where George was hovering patiently. “Thanks George,” Jack said absent-mindedly as he poured himself a large mug of the fresh coffee. “Remind me one day to sort you some arms and legs and you can cook the breakfast for me too,” Jack chuckled. “We will then have swapped roles sir and you will be surplus other than as a consumer.” George replied. “Good point George, good point. I don’t think Freya would see me as surplus though. You on the other hand might end up as one of her toys on the duck pond.” “The dog too would be surplus sir. Assuming she isn’t already,” George responded before making a hasty retreat into the sitting room next door. Jack snickered as he made himself some toast and sat back on one of the kitchen chairs to enjoy his breakfast. He knew what was coming later and right now he wanted peace, toast and coffee. After he’d finished breakfast, Jack made his way into the sitting room where George waited for him. “Okay George, lead on. Let’s get this over with,” Jack said walking towards a large, floor to ceiling bookcase. The bookcase slid silently to one side exposing an entrance to a flight of wide and old stone steps leading down to the cave. Jack and George headed down the steps and the bookcase slid ever silently closed again. Jack and George continued down the long flight of stairs into a massive cavern. Central to the cavern was placed a large steel chair. Around the sides of the huge cave, banks of computers were flashing and buzzing. Screens filled a large part of the wall in front of the chair, showing every room in the house upstairs and far beyond into the village Jack had been in the night before. “I wish I’d figured out a more comfortable chair for this George. This bloody thing hurts like hell by the time I get off it,” Jack muttered as he lowered himself onto the steel seat. “You would destroy anything less sir. It won’t be for long this time I’m sure. Perhaps if you focus on the trip to London and your prize it will distract you,” George replied as he buzzed around Jack in the chair. “Yes, I know, I know I was just muttering out loud is all. Get me settled then and let’s get this over with.” George activated the seat and large clamps electronically clamped down over Jacks arms and legs. He sighed as each one locked into place. He gazed at the screens in front of him as George activated the body monitoring equipment now connected to Jack. A large screen was showing a countryside scene that wandered along a narrow path through a meadow and then into a deep and dark pine forest. Jack followed the camera as it scanned the high tree tops and eventually the sounds of the forest began to fill Jack’s ears. Then the scent of the forest gently wafted into his nostrils and he began to relax and grunt gently. As he allowed himself to become immersed in the film he could feel the hairs on his arms begin to tingle and thicken. How long had this been now? Five hundred years? Five thousand? He had stopped thinking about it. It had been longer than he could begin to remember now. He followed the narrow track through the forest, feeling himself there on all four, watching and sniffing around him. He was at peace but always wary of any potential dangers that may lurk. Here he was at home. His body arched in the chair as his arms began to ripple and grow and soon the rest of his body began to follow. His handsome features were soon immersed in heavy fur as it stretched and reformed and soon he was growling gently in the steel chair as a full grown and powerful bear. George settled on a charging plate behind the large chair to await the return of his creator. No computer ever invented had the capacity of George. His quantum memory had no limits to what it could store. Every item of information on every hard drive around the globe had all eventually unlocked and uploaded it’s secrets to him. He had answers to every question and answers to questions that may not be asked for a millennia, but now, what went on in the mind of Jack Bruin would always remain a mystery. Jack Bruin was a bear shifter and though myths and legends may be shared and stories written, there was nothing of any credible data to help George comprehend.