Jonas Garoux was born in New Orleans, the son of a park ranger and a torch singer at a jazz club. He grew up as much in the countryside, on camping trips or travelling with his father as in the city, and always felt more at home in the wilderness. This love of the outdoors helped steer him into becoming a veterinarian, he better to care for all the beasts he felt drawn to. People, on the other hand, were more confusing to him, and he seldom had close friendships or relationships; it earned him a reputation for being aloof, or uncivilised.

Upon graduating and earning his license, Jonas joined the park service just as his father was retiring. The work was varied and interesting; everything from rescuing cats from trees and finding stray dogs to capturing rogue alligators in the sewers and driving sharks away from the harbour. One day, he was called to reports of a wild dog savaging livestock in an isolated community. Driving out there, he heard from the farmers that the animal had been shot, and cornered in a cave, but that the hunting dogs were afraid to go in after it. Shouldering his rifle, Jonas stripped off his shirt and crawled into the cramped, dark cave, hoping to find the wild dog – and put it out of its misery, if necessary.

In the depths of the cave, what Jonas found wasn't a dog – it was a huge, fierce, but injured wolf. It growled a warning at him, but to his surprise it wasn't getting weaker from blood loss... somehow, it was healing from the gunshot wound even as he watched. He foolishly edged closer to examine it, but the beast found the strength to lash out at him, and sunk its teeth into his shoulder. Half-blinded with pain, Jonas crawled back out of the tunnel, and bandaged himself up. Somehow, in the commotion, the wolf managed to escape from the cordon around the cave, and after a prolonged search Jonas had to head home.

He took a sick day off, as even after being disinfected and treated with antibiotics the wound in his shoulder itched abominably. Jonas began to suffer from incredibly vivid nightmares – snow under his paws, the taste of caribou blood on his tongue, the brilliant, unbelievable smells, like fire in his nostrils. Things came to a head later that month when the moon was full... and he changed for the first time. Jonas was drawn to the pack of the werewolf that bit him, and was welcomed into the fold after some stern initiation rites. His skills as a vet make him invaluable, as does his courage and integrity in protecting the other lycanthropes. Loyalty and protectiveness are in his very genes, but woe betide anyone that tries to collar this wolf, thinking to make him a dog.

Jonas is 29 years old, about 5'11” tall and has a rugged, strong frame – he looks roughly masculine, rather than pretty. His buff shoulders taper down to a lean body built for loping, and dark hair curls on his chest and down his rock-hard stomach. He has a kind of feral charisma, an intensity, with hazel eyes that seem to glow amber in the moonlight.