Cassandra Linh

[Cass]

NAME: Cassandra Jane Linh.
NICKNAMES: Cass. Cassie is a child's name – no one calls her Cassie anymore.
RACE: Lycanthrope; turned.
OCCUPATION: Psychic. Well, sort of. She works at a tiny little occult bookstore just outside of Rayne's territory called Triple Moon reading tealeaves and tarot cards. It's hokey and kind of embarrassing, but at least she doesn't hate her boss.
GENDER: Female.
SKIN COLOR: Subtly tanned.
NATIONALITY: Vietnamese.
AGE: 110.
CLOTHING: You certainly won't find her in a $500 silk dress anymore. At present, Cass' mode of dress is decidedly more low-key. Denim cut-offs, a tank top, and one of Carter's pilfered button downs could be considered her perfect outfit, though she'd be fine with just the button down if she's slouching around the apartment. Cass found a pair of Doc Martens in the mid-90s that she still wears and loves to death; the are scuffed and worn all to hell, but she refuses to throw them out. She can clean up if she has to, and many of her nicer clothes are dresses that have rather vintage silhouettes. Her work clothes are vaguely gypsy-like, if only so her customers feel like they're getting the full "experience": lots of flowy, loose fabric and plenty of bangles.
HEIGHT: 5'6".
WEIGHT: 122lbs.
TATTOOS: None.
PIERCINGS: Both ears and navel.
JEWELLRY: A few simple earrings and rings for her navel. She doesn't keep much in the way of jewelry anymore.

BODY MODIFICATIONS: Cass' human life was uneventful enough to leave her with few markings. Her most prominent scar is at her hip, from the night she was turned.

WOLF FORM

BUILD: Cassandra's wolf form is compact, but undeniably powerful. With solid, muscle-bound limbs and an almost barrel-like chest, this female is clearly built to fight and brawl. Her ears are shorter than most wolves', close to her head, and her muzzle is about the same, though that maw is still filled with a number of deadly-sharp fangs. Cass isn't a female you want to tangle with in human form, much less when she's taken on the wolf.
HEIGHT: 7'9" bipedal; 4'4" quadruped.
WEIGHT: 280lbs.
HAIR: Thick, full-coverage black. Cass' coat has a low-key shine to it, but it is still somewhat coarse.
EYES: Silver, and bright enough to almost shine on their own.
DEFINING MARKS: Her huge shoulders carry a distinctive hunch to them, and her hackles – when raised – gather around her neck and shoulders like a lion's mane.

PACK
PACK: None.
POSITION: None.
TERRITORY: None.

HAIR
LENGTH: Past her shoulders.
STYLE: Naturally wavy, though Cass might take a flat-iron to it, if she can be bothered. She will either let it hang as it will, or pull it back into a half-ponytail, should she need to keep it out of her face.
COLOUR: Brown, with natural high and lowlights throughout.

FACIAL HAIR [/b]
LENGTH: N/A.
STYLE: N/A.

EYES
COLOR: Brown.
ODDITIES: The wolf's silver coloring will shine through if Cassandra is highly emotional. She can also call on the change at will if she is in the mood to taunt.

PERSONALITY: To most, Cass seems like she would belong on the big screen, slinking through the shadows of some black and white film noir. Her outward appearance – the sleek hair, the smooth skin and deep eyes – is the first and only thing that people see about her. She has quite easily been brushed aside as another pretty face, and that had worked for her, up to a point; Cass wasn't on the arm of the most powerful man in Las Vegas without reason.

That life is behind her now, but Cass is no less cunning or resourceful than she was then. She smiles more, certainly, but there is still a trace of that old, acerbic wit, and she is more distrustful of strangers now than she ever was before. Though she knows the value of keeping a low profile, there has always been something subtly feral in the way Cass carries herself. It's in her posture and strut, it's in the way her eyes shift across a room. Cass could be a prime example of how human and wolf can live in a perfect balance within one being. Most who don't know her find her a bit too "off", though she has never cared about the opinions of any person. Save one.

Carter Hayes is more than her mate. She saved him when the Alpha of her pack would have torn him apart and gave up her life in Las Vegas to keep him safe. When he was nearly killed by a bounty hunter all those decades ago, Cass made the conscious decision to turn him because she couldn't live without him. Their lives have been so completely intertwined that she can't imagine trying to go on without him. Carter is the single most important thing in her life, the only person she would ever defer to, and she would bring down an entire city if it meant keeping him safe.

WEAKNESSES: Silver. Like all werewolves, Cass cannot abide the stuff and prolonged exposure can make her very weak, even cause her to fall ill. A weapon crafted of the metal would be more than capable of killing her. The female's blunt mannerism and stubborn temperament make her more than a little difficult to get along with. She is the cerebral sort, the kind of person who will think and think on a matter until the moment has passed her by entirely. Her age as a wolf means that she is still susceptible to the pull of the full moon, but she's fine so long as she and Carter are able to get somewhere away from the city.

Carter. Absolutely, Carter – her mate is a huge weak point. Cass has blindly killed to keep him safe and she would do so again in a heartbeat. If slitting her own throat meant Carter would live, she wouldn't hesitate.

ABILITIES: All the perks of lycanthropy are at Cass' disposal from the heightened senses, speed and stamina to the enhanced strength and agility. She also heals far faster than any mortal could even dream of; superficial cuts knit together in hours and a broken bone could take as little as a few days to heal. A fast-talker with a head for numbers, Cass could likely barter circles around even the most slippery of salesman. She is quick and quiet in her movements, particularly if she's trying to take an item she requires from someone's personage. This agility also lends itself to combat. Cass' style of fighting is an amalgamation, a strange mix of traditional Southeast Asian techniques that have been roughened with bits of streetfighting. She is a crack-shot when it comes to firearms, capable of quick-draw and firing from the hip with a revolver.

As far as her job skills go, Cass doesn't consider herself "gifted" – she isn't a witch, nor does she have any kind of sixth sense. She's read up on interpreting the symbols and placement of the tarot cards, as well as signs that she finds in the dregs at the bottom of the teacup, but she buts no stock in magic or "the sight."

WEAPONS: One Matchmaster .45 1911 pistol with an extended mag. One thin stiletto blade.

PRIZED POSSESSIONS: The Ruger Blackhawk stolen from a former pack member. A set of tarot cards given to her by Tara, her boss. She would never refer to Carter as a thing to be owned, but to say she is possessive of her mate is something of an understatement.

HOME(S): A comfortable apartment in the L.A. suburbs with her mate. They are safely outside of pack jurisdiction.

HISTORY: As far as Cassandra is concerned, her life as a human is of no importance. Her mother was a maid for a large hacienda in southern California. Cass never knew her father, but there was speculation that he was none other than the master of the house. The young girl and her mother were never mistreated but, more often than not, they were invisible. Something that wasn't to be talked about, and the minute Cass understood what was expect of her, she knew she deserved better. She saw the master and his family in their fine house; all the best clothing, the best food, the finest jewelry, and yet she was nothing. Despite how hard she and her mother worked, they would never amount to anything. According to Mrs. Linh, it was simply the way of things.

Cass was just shy of her 20th birthday when she left. There was no word of goodbye to her mother – the older woman wouldn't have understood. She traveled along the coast, taking what she could by way of work, but still falling short of the life she knew she deserved. When the West Coast proved to be a fruitless endeavor, Cass moved inland. She found herself in Las Vegas just as the City of Sin was hitting its stride. Booze had just been outlawed, but that didn't stop anyone, especially not Rowan Sweeney. Not only did his gang consist of some of the most famous card sharks on the strip, but he had his fingers in all sorts of pies. Rowan and his troupe had a reputation, for sure, so imagine Cassandra's surprise when big, bad Rowan Sweeney took interest in her. It was harmless flirtation, at first. Rowan would show up at the casino during her shifts, make sure she was the cigarette girl at his table, and Cass would always leave with a pretty wad of cash in her pocket. She should have been cautious, or at least suspicious, but Rowan was giving her everything she had ever wanted. Blinded by the shine of fine silk dresses and square-cut diamonds, she never saw the sinister ice that always lurked behind Rowan's smile.

Or, if she didn't, she didn't care.

When she had turned 22, Cass was fully immersed into Rowan's world. She came to understand why it was that the gang never lost at the tables, why so many of their adversaries disappeared so quickly. Rowan Sweeney wasn't running some kind of gang. He was running a pack, a wolf pack. The men and women who worked for Rowan, the ones who lived in the huge house just off the boulevard, were all werewolves, and Rowan was their Alpha. Cass couldn't have planned it better; a rich, powerful – dangerous – man had taken an interest in her. Who was she to second-guess?

Cass let Rowan turn her. She was given a place in his house and in his bed, showered with all the fine things that she had been denied for years, and she was happy. Even if she was his trophy, even if she could never truly come to be Rowan's equal, she had the things the wanted. It should have been enough.

Nothing changed, not really. Cass lived well with Rowan, was happy to receive his gifts, and turned a blind eye to the doings of the pack. Even when she saw adversaries paraded through the pack house, bloodied and broken. Even when she heard things in the night, when Rowan would come back stinking of pain and terror. Why should it matter to her? It was pack business, and she was just a female, just a pretty thing for Rowan or his lieutenants to show off around town. She was fine with it.

The night she encountered Carter Hayes, was one such night – she was the escort for the pack Beta, he had business with a local casino owner. Cass was to stay at the bar and keep herself entertained. It was actually Carter's hat that caught her interest first – he certainly cut an impressive profile in it – but the face beneath the trilby brim intrigued her all the more. She commented on that hat by way of greeting, complimenting Carter's fashion choices and flirting because, well, she wasn't blind. Possessive as Rowan was, she couldn't avoid all contact with the opposite sex and it was just harmless conversation, though it was regrettably short. Her companion for the evening reappeared, and Cass was forced to part ways with the cheeky young man. They didn't see one another again.

Not for another few weeks, at least. Rowan was hosting a game for some of the top players in Vegas – high-stakes, backroom gambling – and, naturally, Cass was on his arm for the night. Imagine her surprise when she saw none other than Carter at the table. She had pegged him for a card shark, but she'd had no idea just how good he was. That, and he was the only human in the room.

It made Cass nervous. Why, she couldn't quite tell.

The game began. Cass sipped champagne cocktails, watching quietly from the bar and trying not to let her gaze drift over Carter any more than would be appropriate. Nonetheless, her enhanced senses kept honing in on the young human, and that was when she saw him. It was a fast flicker of movement, far too quick for any human eye to catch. Cass had to force herself to keep still as she spotted Carter pull a number of impressive – albeit stupid – tricks with the cards, each of them more complex than the next. The problem was, if she had been able to notice his techniques, then Rowan surely had. And Cass had seen first hand what Rowan could do to those who crossed him.

Before long, Carter was one of the last players at the table, and Cass had unsuccessfully tried to dull her anxious energy with another three cocktails. When the game broke for the players to refresh their drinks and take some air, the she-wolf took her chance. She and Carter slipped away, far enough away so they could not be seen or heard, and she gave him what for. He had to be nuts to try and cheat Rowan Sweeney out of his money, did he have any idea what would happen when Rowan caught on? She remembered the blood she had seen and the screams she had heard; the idea of Sweeney and the pack getting their hands on Carter made her feel sick – she couldn't shake the anxiety.

Unfortunately, Carter had been drinking. The bourbon in his glass had bolstered his courage, made him downright cocky, and he wasn't about to listen to her warnings. His brush-off was enough to snap Cass out of her state. She went cold again, washing her hands of the situation as she left Carter behind and returned to her Alpha.

Fine. He wanted to take care of himself? She'd let him do just that.

Rowan didn't spring the trap until he and Carter were the only two left at the table. Cass watched two of the pack's fighters pull the young human from his chair. They held him in place and lashed out on some silent cue, striking over and over again. It was all the she-wolf could do to keep her aloof mask in place.

It was none of her business. She had done what she could for him.

And yet, Cass couldn't make it sit right. They took Carter away, the pack continued on with their day-to-day lives, and that was that. Cass tried not to notice the scent of blood that seemed to drift through the pack home. They rest of the pack whispered about how Carter was part of some gang, and that Rowan would stop at nothing to get the names of his accomplices.

Four days later, the pack was called. Carter was dragged up from whatever cell he had been kept in and the sight of his broken form made Cass' world tilt violently. She kept silent when the forced him to kneel in the middle of the room. She said nothing when Terrence, the senior fighter, stepped forward to hand a large wooden box to the Alpha. She didn't move when Rowan Sweeney showed Carter the severed head of one of his dearest friends.

Carter started screaming. Something inside of Cassandra snapped.

No more. She was done pretending.

She managed to slip away that night as Rowan snored. Terrence was the only guard keeping watch at Carter's cell; Cass seduced him without a moment of hesitation before she snapped his neck. Rousing Carter from his almost catatonic state was nothing short of a feat – she actually had to slap him to bring him 'round – but Cass was nothing short of determined. She took Terrence's pistol from his cooling body and led Carter from his cell like a puppy. Wolf and human were only stopped by one other person, another hunter, and Cass gave him a bullet right between the eyes for his trouble. Her cold brutality was enough to shock a reaction out of Carter – he was promptly and thoroughly sick – but she never faltered. They made it to Sweeney's Royce and, after making certain the bag she had packed was still there, Cass gunned the engine and they were gone.

There was a moment when she was certain that Carter had been lost to her forever. He didn't seem to recognize her voice, but when she gripped his head, she heard him whisper one syllable: her name.

They didn't stop driving until they reached the East Coast. Exhausted though she was, Cass refused to let herself slip. She took care of Carter's immediate injuries, though the blank, lost look in his eyes told her that the wounds were much more than physical. Nonetheless, she was stubborn. She talked to him, soothed and coaxed, helped him through the panic attacks and the night terrors as they made to escape the country.

Some of the fog around Carter seemed to lift when they reached Spain, which was nothing short of a relief. He spoke more, and it seemed that he really saw her when he met her gaze, but they weren't out of the woods, not by a long shot. Carter was still very much damaged; Cass hardly dared to sleep at night, because the young human would have such violent nightmares. One night, he was reduced to screaming, howling as though he were back in the pack's clutches and Cass was forced to pin him to the mattress before he trashed himself clean off the bed. She shook him back into the waking world, but it was only after Carter had all but wrapped himself around her that he began to calm down.

The trouble started right about then. Carter's proximity, the scent of his hair and the way he gripped at her, it pulled at the wolf in her. She wanted to hold fast to this human and never let him go, but the shock of that realization scared the hell out of her.

She tried to leave. With the money they had left from the sold Rolls Royce and her pawned jewelry, Carter could have managed on his own for a good couple of months, and she could have bolted before her wolf's foolish claim became any stronger. She didn't count on Carter all but breaking down, and she certainly hadn't expected that his fear at losing her would move her that much. He chased her down the hallway of their small, shared apartment, pleading, apologizing as if he were the cause of their trouble. Cass knew then that she couldn't leave him, even if it meant keeping herself in check every moment of every day.

Carter needed her.

A year passed. Cass kept her feelings toward Carter under wraps, rationalizing the whole time – she was wolf, he was human. It wouldn't work. Carter's condition continued to improve, enough that the both of them managed to find work at the same little dive bar owned by a jovial Spaniard named Rico. Somehow, the she-wolf managed to keep her human charge from getting suspicious when she disappeared for three nights each month. Life was almost peaceful and Cass nearly let her guard down, until one night the past decided it was time to catch up with the both of them. They closed down the bar with Rico and began the walk home hand-in-hand talking quietly, when Cass caught the scent of another wolf. Not just any wolf, though – he was pack. Sweeney's pack. She tried to get Carter to run, but it was too late; the wolf, Thomas, took a knife to her human companion and Cass screamed in horror as Carter crumbled to the ground.

The she-wolf's rage was swift and violent. It ripped through her, momentarily destroying any human though or function. The next thing she knew, Thomas was dead on the ground, his throat torn out, and she was covered in his blood. None of that mattered, though, because Carter was dying and she knew there was no way she could live without him. In her panic, Cass made the decision to bite Carter. She turned him that night to save his life.

It took him three days to come out of the coma-like state that he had been reduced to. Cass could sense the wolf in him right away, and it set her on edge. More than anything, though, she was terrified. She explained to Carter what she had done and what she was, all the while expecting to bear the brunt of his horror and disgust at any moment. Once more, Cass offered to leave; there was a strong pack nearby that would be more than willing to take Carter in and show him what he needed to know about being a wolf. By then, though, Carter had made the connection between the Spanish pack and Sweeney's – in his mind, at that moment, they were one in the same, and considering what he had suffered at the hands of Sweeney's men, a strange pack was the last place he wanted to be. He asked her to stay and, this time, she didn't take much convincing.

She had turned him, after all. It was only fair that she follow through.

Life went on. Carter adjusted to his life as a new wolf and Cass did her best to coach him. There was no way that word of their survival could get back to Sweeney, not with the assassin dead, so they stayed put.

However, it was Cass who would force them to leave before long. Now that Carter was a wolf, you see, her own animal figured she no longer had an excuse to be avoidant. She had true claim now, this male was hers – she wanted him, and any other female (threatening or no) who approached Carter was deemed enemy. Even the scent of a strange female nearby could set Cass on edge, and it all came to a head one night when she and Carter were working together at Rico's. Cass watched a female patron set her hand flirtatiously over Carter's and she lost it. She pulled the brunette patron from her barstool and the following fight was much more vicious then it should have been. After all, a woman of Cass' stature wasn't supposed to be able to throw people, but that was exactly what Cass did.

Carter was the one who brought her back to herself. The brush of his hands on her waist snapped her out of the wolf's rage. It was then that she felt her cheek – and the cut her opponent had dealt her there – beginning to heal all on its own, and in plain view of the public. Cass broke Carter's grip on her and bolted all the way back to their apartment. Anger and humiliation ruled her as she found a suitcase and began packing. When Carter found her, she told him to start packing, as well – they needed to leave. As much as she hoped the male wolf would simply do as he was told, there was no such luck. He pushed the issue, he wanted to know why they had to leave and why she had attacked that woman in the bar. Much as Cass had tried to hide her irritation from the past few months, Carter's questions proved that she hadn't been trying hard enough.

Finally, Cass simply came out with it: she'd attacked that woman because of the way she had been looking at Carter. Because the brunette had wanted him. Her explanation seemed to go right over Carter's head. It would have been so easy for her to drop it there; she didn't have to tell him how she felt, he could remain clueless, they could go on with life, and Cass would cheerfully lose her mind. Exasperated, she surged forward, taking Carter's collar in her fists and kissing him quite thoroughly.

For a few moments, everything was perfect and peaceful.

The guilt settled in far too quickly. In Cass' mind, she had no right to claim Carter like this. He was a young wolf, she explained, and wolves mated for life. He could choose anyone he wanted, but Carter seemed sure for the first time in months. He didn't want just anyone. He wanted her.

Carter loved her, and it was an impossible burden lifted from her shoulders. For once, things seemed right, even if they did have to go on the run again. It wasn't so bad, this time, and Cass led them off to the Caribbean of all places because why not? She wanted sun and surf, though she felt sorry for Carter and his seemingly never-ending battle with the sand. He never complained, though, not once, and they could lie together at night as mates and wake up beside one another each morning.

Fate came raging through before long to upend everything. It wasn't a pack assassin or some forward female, but Rowan Sweeney himself. He had found them after exhausting every resource imaginable and he had a bargain for Cassandra: she would either return to the pack with him, willingly, or she would watch her mate die. It was no-contest for Cass. She watched helplessly as the Alpha male threw her mate across the room and through the window, but any fight in her was drained away by the cold threat she saw in Sweeney's eyes.

She refused to speak all the way back to Vegas. The pack's greeting was nothing short of glacial, and Sweeney did his best to humiliate her in front of them, but Cass' pride would not be beaten back. She ran her mouth, cut Sweeney down with her words, and pushed the Alpha too far. He was determined to make him hers again, in every way he possibly could. Strong as she was, even a determined she-wolf like Cass could be overpowered.

She drifted. Part of her recognized how far into herself she had withdrawn, but the rest of her didn't care; if she didn't think about what was happening around her – to her – she didn't have to deal with it. Cass still can't recall specific details from the time she spent with Sweeney and she doesn't want to. It was only when Carter came for her that the fog around her lifted. She caught his scent, saw his face again, and for a few desperate moments she could think on her own.

Even so, they were two against one, and a paltry two, at that. Carter was still young, still terrified of this pack and its leader, and Cass wasn't all there yet. All it took was a touch from Sweeney and she was cowed again, shaking in her skin. She was powerless to help Carter when the Alpha male had him restrained and gave the order to take the prisoner downstairs.

It all happened at once. Sweeney's words seemed to cut through Carter; they shredded away every last bit of human fear and left the wolf in its stead. Cass was tossed aside like a broken doll as chaos erupted. She wanted to keep drifting, God, but she wanted to slip away again. The scent of blood hung heavy in the air, so much blood, but it was the sound of Carter's voice the pulled her to her feet. Somewhere along the line, she found a discarded pistol, one that had belonged to a fighter at one time. Carter was all wolf, mad with fear and rage, but Rowan was old and powerful. Cass kept moving. Her mate's voice came to her ears, an animalistic how that ended in a human scream as his injuries forced the change from him. She watched Rowan drop the wolf, as well, saw the Alpha's huge hands wrap around Carter's throat. Cass lifted her weapon.

"ROWAN!" BANG.

Sweeney died that day. The man who had nearly destroyed the both of them died at the hands of the female he had once trusted most. Nonetheless, Carter and Cass had to move, and quickly – there were still other pack members alive, and Carter was in a bad way. The she-wolf did what she could to take care of the worst of his injuries, but then they put Las Vegas in their rearview, with no plan (or desire) to ever return. They came to Colorado of all places, but there was space to run and no one to bother them. Cass struggled to hold it together. Sweeney had torn into her, and not just physically. There were nights when she would wake up screaming and crying. There were days when she could hardly stand to have Carter touch her.

Even so, he went nowhere. He never pushed her, he never demanded answers; Carter held her when she cry and gave her space when she needed it. It was a painful process, but Cass managed to piece herself back together and, with her mate at her side, she soon felt like her old self again.

From Colorado, they went to California. Cass hadn't seen the West Coast since she was a girl, and she was curious. San Francisco was their first stop, though Cass soon discovered it wasn't all that it was cracked up to be. The problem was, not all employers were like Cass and Carter's old boss, Rico. Some of them were pigs. Some of them were assholes. Either way, Cass didn't much have a problem giving a shitty employer a piece of her mind, though it made it somewhat difficult for her to hold down a job. It all came to a head on one clear night when the couple decided to try their luck on the town. Carter attracted some unwanted attention in the form of a loudmouthed redhead; the human woman didn't much appreciate it when Cass told her to back off, so she followed the couple when they tried to leave. The female had to admit that she had been spoiling for a fight, but she got more than she bargained for with the redhead. Cass took more hits than she expected to, and would have been seriously injured by the knife that the crazy human decided to pull had Carter not stepped in and broken the human's wrist.

Needless to say, another move was in order.

So far, though, Los Angeles hasn't given them any trouble. Cass had her usual trouble with a few moronic employers before settling at Triple Moon, and she is more than glad that Carter seems to be managing at Virgin. Their apartment isn't a penthouse, and none of Cass' clothing costs more than 50 bucks. She couldn't be happier.