Sunday, April 10, 2016

Hidden Clause - Part Two

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CHAPTER SIX: HIDDEN CLAUSE - PART TWO

Azel raised an eyebrow at the delivery guy standing on his stoop with a crimson-colored box wrapped with a fancy gold ribbon. Did they deliver jewelry now? And why would they do it to him? Azel shook his head. “That’s not mine; sorry,” he said as he started to shut the door.

“Azel Brimm?” The guy’s voice barely wavered, despite the nervous look in his eyes. 

More than his name, that made Azel pause and give the guy his attention. “That’s me, but I didn’t order that.” Whatever it even was. 

“Order says it’s yours. Already paid for.” The flustered guy shrugged, before digging in his pocket. “Oh yeah, it came with a card.” He handed Azel a gold envelope with his name typed neatly on the front. Fancy, indeed. Azel opened the card and read the typed note.

Azel,

After last weekend, I just wanted you to know that I can’t stop thinking about you and the way you make me feel! Got these special for you. Hope you think of me while you eat them!

Harri

Harri got this for him? After a couple of days of radio silence, this was how she reached out? Well, she did like buying him things, especially food. But the note sounded… off. Didn’t quite sound like her. After last weekend? Did she mean their fight? The way he made her feel? What the hell did that mean?

Grabbing the box from the delivery guy, he inspected the thing like it might explode or something. Untying the bow and lifting the cover, he saw a row of ornate chocolate truffles. Expensive candy from some high-end chocolatier as communication? Yeah, that sounded like Harri.

“Never had to take a delivery to two different places before.”

Azel looked at him curiously. “Two places?”

The guy nodded awkwardly. “Picked it up at the store and brought it to the sender first before finally delivering it here.”

That sounded weird. Why would Harri do that? 

“Guess if I’d spent that much on chocolate, I’d want to inspect it first too.” The guy shrugged. 

Azel supposed that sounded like something Harri would do. He nodded to the guy. “The app cover the tip too?”

The guy looked surprised. “Nah, but I get a cut of the delivery fee.”

“Hold up,” Azel said, reaching for his wallet. “I got some cash.” He pulled out a few bills. “Here.”

“Dude!” The guy grabbed the money. “Thanks!”

Azel nodded. He’d worked a delivery job once, back when he thought he could afford a car. It wasn’t easy trying to make the pay and the costs of the job — gas, car maintenance, insurance, stiffed orders — balance out. Sometimes tips had been the only thing barely keeping him in the black. Figured minimum-wagers like them owed it to themselves to look out for each other. 

He studied the chocolates, tucked away in their swanky package, and headed back inside. Maybe this, like with her offering to get him dinner after their fight, was her way of apologizing or making up. But then why not say that in the card? 

He supposed Harri tended to have trouble expressing herself at times. She often preferred to say the things she knew others wanted to hear, rather than what she truly thought. Was that what this was?

Not knowing what to make of any of this, he sat down on his couch. Right where she’d spent the night, wrapped up in his blanket. Where she’d spent the morning happily working away in her own little, productive world. Where she’d freaked out over that jerk’s passive-aggressive post. Where she’d found the courage to delete it and claim back a bit of her control. 

Where he’d thrown her phone after calling that window-spying weirdo out. Where she’d yelled at him for doing that. Where she’d reminded him that he was just a job to her, an employee. Where he realized that whatever feelings he was harboring for her — which he didn’t even really understand — she wasn’t. She knew exactly what she wanted from him and it wasn’t… well, him.

Which was fine. That was what they’d agreed on. He stared at the pile of papers he’d placed the box of chocolates on.

Relationship Contract Between Harriet Cathrine Wren and Azel Brimm

He stared at the words until they blurred before him. That was right. They were nothing but a contract. Just one more deal in a lifetime built on them. He’d let himself get too close. He’d tricked himself into thinking it was safe to care about her because, for the first time for any of his clients, she wouldn’t be damned because of him.

He had to remember that didn’t make them friends, much less anything more. She was his client. And he was… the help. Nothing more.

Taking a steadying, steeling breath, he snatched up one of the truffles. Frivolous, fussy thing. The bougie boutique’s box of six specialty truffles probably could have paid for his groceries for the week. Bitterly, he crumpled the glitzy card, shoving it into his pocket, before popping the ostentatious sweet into his mouth.

Fuck, it was good. Probably the best thing he’d eat for a while. He let the perfectly tempered chocolate decadently melt and swirl over his tongue. The only thing ruining the lavish pleasure was knowing he hadn’t done anything to deserve it. This chocolate, like Harri herself, was too damned good for him. Too fine and high-tier for the likes of him. He was gutter trash from literal Hell who could only get his grubby hands on something this grand because of her.

The thought churned his stomach.

Or so he thought. Until the guilty, self-deprecating twinge turned into something sharp and hot. Gripping his gut, he raced toward the bathroom before falling to his knees in front of his toilet. In a series of tearing retches, he emptied his stomach into the waiting bowl.

By the time he was done, he felt lightheaded and weak, resting his head against the cold porcelain. What the hell? He fumbled to flush the toilet, wearily watching the mess swirl down the drain. He knew this feeling.

Like he’d told Harri, demons were made to survive unlivable conditions. It took a lot to hurt or damage someone like him. And he knew that piercing pain. Had felt it once before. 

Back before the amnesty agreement, he’d been on the verge of closing a deal with a man who’d summoned him to cheat on his wife. It’d been almost too easy of a job; Azel really should have been more suspicious. Cheaters, no matter how faithful or pious, didn’t summon demons simply to cheat. Even for gay men during the most prejudiced and persecuted times, there were easier ways to get the kind of sex and affection they wanted. Yet, Azel had been young, cocky.

He regretted, in the moment right before the man was about to sign his soul away, agreeing to the celebratory toast the man proposed. Azel had choked on the blessed wine. Almost died as the undercover priest chanted prayers over his curled-up, convulsing body. 

Azel clenched his jaw and forced himself to his feet. Gripping furniture for balance, he slowly and unsteadily made his way back to his couch. Flopping onto the cushions, he grabbed the box and examined the contents carefully.

A slight sheen coated each candy. Azel had just thought that was from the high quality, perfectly treated chocolate. But, this close, he could smell the slight piney scent of holy oil. Someone had blessed or annointed these before delivering them.

Never had to take a delivery to two different places before,” the delivery guy had said. “Picked it up at the store and brought it to the sender first before finally delivering it here.

Grinding his teeth together, he dug the crumpled note from his pocket and glared at it. 

Hope you think of me while you eat them!

He’d been poisoned. Been tricked. Again.


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Full Pink Moon - Part Three

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CHAPTER NINE: FULL PINK MOON - PART THREE

Russ snuck another worried glance at Dawn as she sniffled on his couch. He’d been trying — all but begging — for over an hour to get her to tell him what was wrong, but she either just shook her head or burst into tears. She wouldn’t even let him touch her. Wouldn’t even let him close. He fought the helpless whimpers clogging his choked-up throat as he perched on the other end of the couch, trying like hell to give her as much space and support that he could. It was killing him, not being able to help.

Had she run into Tucker in town? Had he stopped by her school again? A growl ripped through him. If he’d hurt her again…

He looked up when he felt Dawn’s hand rest on his arm soothingly. He groaned and wanted to kick himself. “Please, don’t do that.”

Dawn sniffed and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “Do what?”

He reached out and grabbed her a tissue. “Comfort me, while you cry.”

She blew her nose. “I’m sorry.”

“And now you’re apologizing.” Russ clutched his chest dramatically. “You’re really trying your best to make me look like the world’s worst partner.”

He smiled when he heard her wetly giggle behind her tissue. “I’m not trying to.”

Shaking his head, he tsked playfully. “So just succeeding then, I see.”

She chuckled again, this time louder. That was more like it. “I love your laugh.” He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but couldn’t regret it when he was rewarded by another laugh as she snuggled closer to him. He kissed the top of her head. “You want to talk about it now?”

She bit her lip and scrunched her nose as she thought about it, before shaking her head. “I don’t want to cry anymore.”

Even as a part of him ached for her to trust him with her tears, Russ understood that. Now that she’d finally stopped, he could imagine her being afraid to start it all up again. So he nodded. She liked to run, but she looked exhausted. Baking while tired didn’t sound like such a great idea either. He wondered whether reading while emotionally drained was wise. What did that leave her with? He frowned. If he was in her place, what would make him feel better? He rubbed his cheek against her hair. “Want to help me in the garden?” She liked it there and had said that sometimes tending the earth could help ground a person. He peeked down at her hopefully.

He felt her tip her head pensively, one way and then the other, before nodding. She peered up at him, her wet eyes shining a bit brighter. “You know what? I think I would.”

He grinned, wrapping his arms around her.

After two sweaty hours of weeding and pruning and, to be honest, simply playing around in the dirt, Russ was glad to see Dawn’s mood lift. Like it often did for him, having a simple task to complete seemed to steady Dawn, giving her back the control she’d lost.  

Russ leaned back and breathed deep, enjoying the warm sun and the earthy scents surrounding him, when Dawn finally spoke. “Do you think I’m selfish?”

Frowning, he turned to her as she dug around in the dirt, picking up tiny twigs and roots to give the plants some more space. “I would never think that about you.” She was the most giving soul he knew, always thinking about the wants and needs of those around her. He narrowed his gaze on the serious look on her face. “You should never think that either.”

She didn’t say anything to that. Didn’t even turn to look at him. Just stared at the dark soil, as if she could find her answers there.

Going to her, he wiped some smudged dirt off her forehead. “You give so much of yourself to help your kids.”

She twisted her face away from him. “But I still feel like I’m failing them.”

“Failing them how?” Where were these thoughts coming from? “Did something happen at the school?”

“One of my werewolf students got into a fight with the brother of one of my human students.” Her face fell, the look of anguish feeling like a knife to the gut to him. “All because the two had become friends.” She shook her head. “I was so stupid. I really thought, if I could get through to these kids, that would solve everything.” Her fists tightened on the garden mess, snapping the tiny sticks. “But they still have to deal with this huge, broken world beyond my classroom that doesn’t work the way I’ve taught them it should.” Her gaze stared out in despair across the pond. “Am I just giving them false hope and flawed expectations? What if all I’m really doing is setting them up for failure? For disappointment?”

Russ hated the pain and disillusionment in her strained voice. Hated how useless and inadequate it made him feel. Dawn was hurting and, no matter how much he wished he did, he didn’t have the words or ways to fix what felt so broken. He wasn’t particularly smart or ambitious. Wasn’t exactly an optimist or some earnest idealist. He was never going to change the world; he wouldn’t even know where to start, much less what advice to give. Shaking his head, he wished he could be what she needed. What she deserved. 

He shrugged, looking down at the mint he’d been harvesting. “Maybe you are,” he admitted, thinking about his own life. When she turned to gape at him, clearly letting him know that those were not the words of encouragement she was expecting. But it was the truth and, much as he might want to, he found he couldn’t lie to her. “The world is disappointing and it can be deeply unfair to people for all kinds of messed-up reasons. And it’ll always fall short of what we wished it would be.”

“I really hope you’ve got one hell of a but coming up soon,” she mumbled, disgruntled. “Or I think I might start crying again.”

He gave her a small smile. “Those kids, like everyone else, are going to face hardships. They’re going to meet people and situations that challenge them, maybe even try to tear them down.” That was just facts. Life, for all its good days, could be damned unforgiving. “But they’ll also have something not everyone is lucky enough to get.”

Dawn bit her lip and quietly asked, “What’s that?”

“Hope,” he said, looking at her. “Something to believe in that’s worth fighting for. Because someone in their life cared enough to plant that seed.” He fingered the herb that he’d tended now for three years, seeing it grow and flourish and wither and begin anew, over and over. 

Dawn had been right when she’d said that a plant like this didn’t really need all that much care but, what it did need, he’d done his best to give. And here it was, three years later. In that time, he’d dried it into tea and used it for garnish. He’d even given some to Garrett to share with the rest of the pack. “You can never know for sure how a seed will grow. Sometimes they die or get sick before ever sprouting. Sometimes they require extra care just to survive, while others thrive all on their own.” He reached over with a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped the sweat from Dawn’s dirty brow, marveling at how someone like her had found her way into his life. “But one thing I know for certain: nothing can ever grow, if that seed never gets planted.”

Dawn’s smile, no matter how often he saw it, would always feel like a miracle; he was sure of it. It was like the first ray of sunshine after a storm. But, just as quickly as it appeared, it fell again. “But not all seeds are good, are they?”

He tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

She huffed. “I think I might have led Tucker on.”

Russ stiffened, his lip curling in disgust. “What?”

He hadn’t meant to yell and hated himself when she flinched. “I didn’t mean to,” she rushed to say, guilt dripping from every word. “It’s just I hate confrontation and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. So, when he first started talking to me, I just…” She shrugged. “I would dodge his advances and put him off.” She groaned and hung her head. “And, by the time I did — straight-up, no sugar — tell him no…” She pursed her lips and let out an exasperated huff. “I think he’d been listening so intently for my anticipated yes that he just couldn’t hear my no.”

Russ bit back a growl. “Then he should get his damned hearing checked.” When Dawn looked taken aback by his responses, he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what he expected you to say or what he really, really wanted you to say; only what you said.” 

When he still saw doubt in her eyes, he wanted to howl. “I heard you tell him no. No matter what you might have said or done before that, you said no. Clearly and unmistakably. And that asshole still violated your consent.” His fists clenched at the memory. “I know it almost cost me my freedom. It could have doomed the entire pack — hell, maybe even every werewolf or predator in the country.” He looked deep into Dawn’s eyes, letting her see the truth he felt burning in his soul. “But I don’t regret what I did. No one gets to treat you like that. No one should ever treat anyone like that.” He carefully unclenched his fists to gently brush her soft curls behind her ear. “But, as long as I’m here, no one will treat you that way. Not ever.”

Panic flickered through him as he saw her face scrunch and her eyes begin to water. His hand, still cupping her head gently, tensed as he wondered what he’d done wrong and tried to desperately think of how to make it right.

But then she turned into his palm, trusting as a kitten, and beamed up at him. “You know, for someone who swears he’s not good with words, you always manage to find the exact right ones with me.”

And, right then, he felt something inside him crack, as love for this woman — his mate — crashed through him like a tidal wave. He felt helpless beneath its weight. Too choked to reply, he simply pulled her close for a kiss, letting that torrential force pour through him and into her, and hoped she could somehow feel it too.

*

By the time the kiss ended, Dawn felt flushed and light-headed. Dreamily, she blinked up at him. “I think I’m ready to go back in.”

His amber eyes ate her up as his hands slid down her back, pressing her close. “I don’t think I can make it inside.”

She giggled and pointed the twenty-some-odd feet leading back to his patio. “It’s right there.”

His gaze didn’t so much as flicker away from her. He just leaned in and pressed his nose against her skin on an almost pained groan. “I know.”

She shivered at the need that ached in his tone and the greedy way he reached down to drag her up and back behind the garage. She knew she ought to protest. They were out in the open, barely hidden among the rampion bellflower growing rampant along the garage walls. They were both sweaty and dirty from working in the garden. They were fully grown adults, not hormone-crazed teenagers who couldn’t control themselves. 

Yet.

“I need you,” he whispered against her throat as he kissed his way down her neck and cupped and cuddled her breasts.

Yes. 

She nodded breathlessly, her tail feeling impossibly tall and full. “I need you too.” His growl rumbled triumphantly against her body, sending liquid heat flowing through her. She gripped him tighter. “Russ, please!”

Rough hands turned her until her hands clutched the garage’s wooden panels. She gasped as he bent low and pressed his lips against her flank, tickling the fur right by her tail. “God, you’re so wet for me.” He crouched down among the bell-like blossoms framing their fevered forms and pressed his face to her cunt, just breathing her in. “I’m so sorry, baby. This is going to be fast and hard and dirty. I promise, once I’m done, we can go back inside and I’ll make it up to you. I’ll bathe you. I’ll spent the whole fucking night worshiping your body. But right now…” He made a helpless noise.

A molten shudder ran through her as the weight of his desire pressed her front into the harsh surface. Fast, hard, and dirty sounded pretty good to her right now. “Do it.” She turned her head back to meet his hungry gaze with her own. “I need it.” She needed him.

On an absolutely ruined grunt, he ripped open his jeans and tugged them down just enough for his cock to spring up, aroused and insistent. Her back arched as he thrust into her just as he’d promised: fast. Hard. Dirty. She groaned.

He chuckled low. “You can’t scream, baby,” he warned her. “No one comes out here, usually. But I can’t promise someone won’t come searching, once they hear those sexy moans of yours.” He pulled out, only to push back in again, in a fast but thorough stroke that dragged along every nerve. “I know I would.”

She nodded and tried her best to keep quiet as he proceeded to destroy her with desire, succeeding for the most part. She thought. Maybe.

He chuckled as a lusty cry escaped her throat right before her body climaxed over his cock. “You were doing so well,” he murmured into the base of her spine. “Don’t worry; I’ll give you another chance to try again.” And then he did, thrusting into her sensitized flesh and building her arousal back up again. She’d like to say she succeeded on her second try.

Nipping her back gingerly, where her fur met her sweat-slicked skin, he practically purred. “You’re going to get us into trouble, sweetheart.”

“Me?” she panted, before raising an eyebrow at him. “It’s not my fault you drive me crazy. You’re too good at this.”

Before she even finished her sentence, he was muffling his own moan into her pelt as his hips pounded into her with the force of his orgasm. “Fuck, baby, no; it’s you who’s too goddamned good.”

The next day, she couldn’t stop grinning, remembering how — being a man of his word — Russ had indeed spent the whole night reverently scrubbing her clean before getting fervently filthy with her, again and again and again. Werewolf stamina… whew, it was a wonder.

 By the time he showed up, after class, to walk her home, she felt ravenous for him. She saw him leaning against her open doorframe with a sexy, admiring smirk, his hands toying with a stalk of rampion bellflower, its pretty, little purple bells twirling, and she simply melted. A decadent, dark side of her wanted to shoo all her students out and drag him in.

But, when she saw the way her class’s eyes lit up at the sight of him, she knew she couldn’t disappoint them. Even before she officially ended class, a bunch of students rushed to the door, excited greetings and questions bubbling up in a chaotically excited din. 

Russ grinned and crouched down to their level. “Hey, guys; how’ve you all been?” His eyes widened as their little voices got even louder. He bit back a chuckle. “Well, it’s great to see you all again!”

Kris Goslin, the second grade teacher from next door, walked in through the shared craft room door in the back of the class. Eying the mob of excited kids clogging the class door, they laughed. “Well, I was going to ask if you had time to help me set up something for tomorrow, but I can see you’ve already got plans.”

Dawn tried to feel apologetic, but couldn’t quite wipe the smile off her face. “Sorry, wish I could.”

Kris just shook their head. “No worries. Believe me, if I had someone who looked at me like that at home, I wouldn’t want to stick around here any longer than I absolutely had to either.” They laughed as Nikki Wright, Garrett’s niece, all but leapt into Russ’s arms, demanding to be held. Giving Dawn a knowing wink, Kris headed back out the way they came with a wave. “I can find someone else to help me. Have fun.”

Dawn grabbed her bag, slinging it across her chest, and made her way through the crowd of kids. “Okay, everyone, time to go home. Your parents are waiting.”

The class let out a collective, overly dramatic whine.

“But you’ll come to the Night Faire this weekend, right?” Nikki asked, her tiny arms still wrapped around Russ’s neck. “My mom needs help at her booth, so I get to hand out jerky samples.” She looked at Russ with such hope in her eyes. “If you come, I’ll give you some; it’s real yummy.”

A slightly panicked look flitted across Russ’s face at the girl’s words. Saving him from answering, Dawn asked, “What’s the Night Faire?”

Nikki lit up. “It’s so cool. It’s a huge market with all these tasty, pretty, amazing stuff that lasts all night, so my mom usually doesn’t let me go. I have to stay behind with Harold and all the little kids. But my big brother, Kenny, has to study that night so I get to help in his place.” Her eyes widened even further as she squealed. “Miss Dawn, you should come too! You’re part of the pack now too! Everyone always goes, leaving the rest of us behind. But this time, I get to go, so you have to come too. I’ll give you both so much jerky.”

Dawn fought back a laugh. It did sound fun. She winked at the little girl. “We’ll see. Now go on, your dad’s probably outside right now, wondering where you are.”

Satisfied at her enthusiastic sales pitch, Nikki scampered off the moment Russ set her down. Dawn eyed Russ’s scowl. “I’m guessing not everyone goes to this Night Faire, huh?”

Russ scratched his chin and handed her the flowers he’d brought. “I went to one, early on — right before I moved to the apartment, actually…”

Dawn tilted her head curiously as she tucked and twined the flowers into her hair. “Not really your thing?”

He flushed. “I’m not big on crowds or events or…” He shrugged. “People.”

Dawn gave him a playful look. “I may not be human, but I’m pretty sure I qualify as people.”

Russ rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. “You know what I mean. People I don’t know.”

“But they’re your pack,” Dawn pointed out. “Our pack now, I guess; shouldn’t you know them?”

He hunched his shoulders, making himself smaller, but said nothing.

She sighed. “Look, I’m not trying to change you, I swear.” She reached out to stroke his arm. “I’m pretty darn fond of you just the way you are. But, no matter how far you move or how long you’ve been away, they’re a part of you, right? Isn’t that how you said belonging to the pack worked?” She could see him waver, needing just the slightest nudge to give in. “And, this time, I’ll be there with you. We can gorge ourselves on jerky samples together.”

She chuckled as Russ’s ever-hungry stomach grumbled. Taking his arm, she pulled him out of her classroom so she could lock up. “Come on, I’ll let you brood about it over dinner.”

Dawn, wanting to bypass the whole cooking and clean-up portion of the night — after all, she had far, far better things planned later — dragged Russ to the diner. Almost immediately after being seated outside, without even taking their proffered menus, she ordered the exact same steak and salad meals they’d had here previously, before reaching across the patio table for Russ’s outstretched hand as their poor, shell-shocked server rushed off with their order. 

Russ chuckled. “A little eager tonight, aren’t we?”

Dawn blushed but smirked at the low, heat-roughened rasp of his voice. “Yes, we seem to be.”

Russ laughed again, squeezing her hand. “Good. Better eat up quick, babe, cause, once we’re done—”

“Fancy meeting you two here?”

They both stiffened at Tucker’s voice.


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Friday, April 8, 2016

Hidden Clause - Part One

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CHAPTER SIX: HIDDEN CLAUSE - PART ONE

So much for simple.

Harri woefully watched the elevator signal each passing floor, dreading the moment the doors would open onto her own. She sighed and tried to gear herself up. Maybe if she ran like some desperate sprinter to her door, she could avoid Nate. She’d look like she’d lost her mind, but she felt like she had already so…

Holding her body so tense, she practically jumped when the elevator dinged as the doors opened.

To an empty, quiet floor.

Feeling silly, Harri shook her head. What did she think was going to happen? Did she think Nate would be out there, skulking in the hallway, waiting for her like some horror movie jump scare? She needed to get a grip. She needed to relax. Needed sleep in her own apartment, in her own bed, for a bit and forget about the past twenty-four hours.

But, before she did, she really ought to apologize to Azel. Again. She’d been frazzled and frustrated and she’d said some awful things to him. He hadn’t deserved that. He’d just been trying to help. It wasn’t his fault she’d made a mess of her life. He clearly had his own problems; she had no right to jump down his throat over hers. 

She’d tried to apologize at his place, had offered to order delivery — whatever food he’d wanted — to make it up to him but he’d declined. Of course he had. Because, despite what her aunt believed, food didn’t make everything magically better. So she’d left because, with things so awkward between them, it’d felt wrong to invade his space, his privacy, his home, like that. 

Maybe she should give him some time to cool down before reaching out again. Or maybe she’d send a gift with a note, saying she was sorry and that she’d give him space until he felt comfortable reaching out to her. Yeah, maybe she’d do that.

Rubbing her throbbing temple, she unlocked her door. And promptly screamed.

“Harri, calm down; you’re fine. It’s just me.”

She was most certainly not fine. Clutching her chest with one hand and the doorknob with the other, Harri glared at Nate. “What the fuck are you doing here?” She turned her attention to the items — her blanket, a pile of books, a sweatshirt, some fuzzy socks — laid out next to an empty box on her coffee table. 

He shrugged and shuffled his feet as he ran his hands through his hair. “I was just going to leave this all here for you.” God, she hoped he’d included her spare key as well. About to ask, she saw his lip quiver. “But, I don’t know, seeing it all here…” He swallowed hard as his breath hitched. “The idea of leaving the last bit of you — of us — behind…” His voice wavered, making her heart lurch at the hurt he was clearly choking back. 

Jeez, she felt like such a jerk. 

He turned away from her and sniffled. “Sorry, I know I should have left. You’re done with me. I know that.” His hand reached out to touch her blanket, his fingers stroking the soft, worn fabric. She swore she could see the memory of every time he’d ever wrapped her up in it or cuddled with her under it reflected in his teary eyes. “But I guess letting you go is harder than I thought it would be.”

Harri shut her eyes as she shut the door behind her. Damn it. She hated this. Hated how guilty this all made her feel. She could feel the instinctive apology, poised and ready on the tip of her tongue, but she refused to let it out. She was sad that he was sad, but she wouldn’t apologize for wanting to break up. She shouldn’t have to.

She just wished that didn’t make her feel petulant and selfish, hurting him like this just so she could feel... what? Free? She shook her head, trying to block the annoying voice in the back of her mind that said it would be so much easier for everyone if she simply took him back. That her happiness was a small price to pay for everyone else’s.

“Especially after…”

She looked up at him. “After what?”

“No one told you?” He looked surprised before frowning sheepishly. “I guess I did tell everyone not to say anything to you; I didn’t want to bother you. But I figured someone might let it slip.”

“Let what slip?” He’d told everyone but her. Told everyone not to tell her. “What are you talking about?”

Nate shook his head and walked away from her. “It’s nothing. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not your problem anymore.” He slumped his shoulders and gave her a sad, kicked-puppy look. “I’m not your problem anymore.”

For God’s sake! “What is it, Nate?” He knew that she hated when it felt like everyone knew and were talking about something she didn’t know. She hated secrets and gossip, doubly so when she felt both out of the loop and somehow also at the center of it all. 

“My company is being bought out,” he said with a resigned sigh. “They’re predicting a ton of layoffs. And you know how my boss has been looking for any reason to get rid of me for a while now.”

Yeah, Nate had been saying that for almost a year now. If it wasn’t for the fact that he and the company’s president had been part of the same fraternity, Nate was sure he’d have been fired a long time ago. Not because he was bad at his job but because their president liked Nate more than he liked Nate’s boss. He let out a heavy huff. “And, after you left,” he said softly, looking at her with pain etched all over his face, “I knew I wasn’t giving work my all, but it was so hard to just get up in the morning, knowing you weren’t there next to me, you know?”

Harri knew Nate’s work situation wasn’t fair and how stressed out the whole situation made him. Again, it wasn’t really an experience she could relate to. She might only be friends with Megan at work, but she was well-respected and valued. She’d never had someone have it out for her, like Nate did. And to have it all come to a head now… 

She shut her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Nate.” She sighed and looked him over. He looked haggard and she knew she, too, had a part in that. “When’s the last time you ate something? I was going to order some food, if you want some.” The eggs Azel had made for her felt like ages ago. They both could benefit from a good meal.

The hopeful look in Nate’s eyes made her wince. “Really? I’d appreciate that. It’s been hard getting used to cooking for just one person again.”

She pursed her lips and decided to ignore that comment and focus on the task at hand instead. “Chinese sound good?”

“Sounds great,” Nate agreed. “You know what I like.”

She did. Going to the delivery app, she entered their usual order. “Should be here in twenty minutes.”

“Thanks,” Nate said, taking a seat at her table.

“Of course,” she said, moving to get him a glass of water and a soda for herself. “It’s the least I can do.”

Nate narrowed his gaze on the glistening can in her hand. “Back to drinking all those sugary drinks?” He tsked. “I thought you’d said you were doing better without all the caffeine and empty calories.”

Harri gripped the can. She had said that. But mostly because she’d stopped drinking them around him and had preferred not fighting about it anymore. One of the first things she’d done, after their break up, was stock her apartment with all her favorite sodas, ecstatic she didn’t have to hide them at her desk at work anymore. 

“I just worry about your health,” Nate said over the rush of the sink as she filled his glass. “As someone who loves you, I only want the best for you.”

Harri felt her jaw clench. Why was she getting so irritated? It wasn’t as if they hadn’t had this conversation a million times before. She could recite it in her sleep. It was why she’d hidden her habit from him in the first place. Why was it grating on her so much now? She shook her head and forced herself to relax. “We weren’t talking about me; we were talking about you. And, as your friend, I really am sorry you’re having such a hard time.”

He sniffled and lifted an overly casual shoulder. “Well, on the bright side, if I do get laid off, I won’t be able to afford my rent anymore. Guess that solves all your problems, huh?”

Shit. “You know that’s not what I want.” She didn’t want to be with him, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to suffer. She handed him his glass. “I want the best for you too.”

He looked at her longingly as he took the water she offered. “I had the best.” He gave her a small, heartbreaking half-smile. “It’s true what they say: you never really realize what you have till it’s gone.”

Oh, Nate. She opened her can with a pop. “You’ll find someone else,” she said, shaking her head as she plopped down onto her own chair. “Someone better. Someone who wants what you want. Who can give you what you need.”

“I know what I need,” he said, leaning closer to her. “More than ever, when it feels like I’m losing everything, I’ve never been so sure of what I really want. And I’m willing to wait until you know it too.”

Goddamnit, Nate. 

Harri bit back a groan. Why couldn’t this just be easy? What did she need to do to get through to him? Well, seeing as she’d already agreed to it, it looked like she had all of dinner to try to figure that out. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m going to change,” she said. While she was glad she’d changed back into her clothes from last night before she left Azel’s place, she really wanted to put on something clean and comfortable. Unlocking her phone, she set it on the dining table. “Can you grab the food, if it comes before I’m done?”

Nate’s eyes slowly looked her up and down, as if remembering every time in the past year that she’d changed in front of him, rather than retreating to her bedroom. Harri decidedly ignored the heat in his eyes as he nodded. “Sure.”

Taking a tense breath, Harri took one last look at her phone before turning away, seeing it was still going to be eighteen long minutes until their order even arrived. Damn, it was going to be a long night. Maybe she should take a shower too, just to take the full amount of time, instead of coming back out to wait with Nate. She huffed as she shut her bedroom door behind her. Yeah, she really needed to learn that food really rarely ever made things better.


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Tuesday, March 22, 2016

Behind Enemy Lines

You Won't Look At Me. And It's Pissing Me Off

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You won’t look at me. 

And it’s fucking pissing me off.

You’ve been distant all day. Not talking. Not moving. Like your goddamned soul somehow slipped from your body while no one was watching.

But I’m watching. And I’m fucking done with it.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I have to know. You need to answer me. But you don’t. You just shrug. Just this half-assed, mindless lift of your shoulders. That’s not a fucking answer! “Are you mad at me or something?” I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong, but damned if you’re not making me feel like I have.

“It’s not you.” Your voice is dim. Dull. A pale imitation of you. “It’s nothing.”

Clearly, the fuck it’s not! “If you’re angry, I’d rather just discuss it. I can’t fix what I don’t know is broken.” We’ve talked about this before. You know it drives me crazy. So goddamn stop.

You make this weird sound. So small I almost didn’t hear it. 

“Hey,” I say, lifting your chin even as you pointedly avoid my gaze, “are— Are you crying?” Fuck. I can see wetness gathering at the corners of your eyes, like dew weighing down your lashes. “Hey, come here.” I gather you close to me, burying your face in my neck. I hold you there. Tight. Shielding you as I feel your small body practically vibrate with tensely gripped emotions. “It’s okay. You can cry, sweetheart.” Your head shakes slightly, just a barely noticeable, stilted shift against my shoulder, like you’re afraid the tiniest wrong movement will shatter your fiercely held control. 

Fuck this. I pull you onto my lap as I sit down in a chair, wrapping you fully around myself, until no part of you isn’t touching a part of me. “You can let it out, baby. It’s all right. I’ve got you; I won’t let you go.”

It starts as just a hiccup. A rough, choked swallow. Right before your stiff body collapses boneslessly against mine as sobs pour out of you and into my shirt. It breaks me. Cooing at you in a way I fucking pray you find comforting, I rock you soothingly, whispering God-only-knows-what in a desperate attempt to fix what feels so broken. I hold you through it, do my best to hold you together as you fall apart in my arms. 

It’s not until your tears quiet and your body lays limp against mine that I finally feel the ache in my chest relax. “Feel better?” I ask softly into your ear. I smile this time as you give the briefest nod into the crook of my neck. “Good.” I rub your back. “Can you give me a smile?” I feel your wet lips wobble weakly against my skin. I pat you gently. “That’s okay. Don’t force it; it’ll come.” And it will. You will feel joy again. I’ll make sure of it.

I let you pull yourself up as you furiously wipe the tears from your face like evidence to a crime. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, your cheeks flushing a shameful pink, “I didn’t mean to dump all that on you.”

I reach up and softly brush my thumb against the moisture still threatening to fall. “You didn’t dump anything on me,” I tell you firmly. “You let me share the burden. I’m glad.” It’d been too much for you to carry on your own; of course, I want to help you lift it. That’s what I’m here for. “You know, as much as I love your smile, and as strange as it may sound, I think I’d rather see your tears than have you shut down like that.” Paralyzed by your pain. “It scared me. Not knowing what was happening in here,” I say as I touch your temple. You’re usually all smiles and sunshine; to have that all replaced by… nothing. It was terrifying. Like a frigid chill racking my soul.

Your gaze drifts away from mine again in a quiet evasion. “Sometimes it feels safer behind the walls.” 

Yeah, I understand that. They’re the emotional barricade you bury yourself in, when nothing outside it feels right anymore. But, having more than my own share of experiences behind the enemy lines that can be my own mind at times, I wonder how safe it truly is inside those carefully constructed walls though. “I know.” They feel like protection, a barrier between the tenderest parts of you and the world that can’t be trusted with them. “But you don’t need them with me, right?” You never will; I will fucking see to it. I can be stronger than your walls. For you, I will be. I grip your chin and hold it until you look at me again. I need you to hear me when I say this. “When you’re with me, all you need is you.” You are enough. More than.


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Monday, March 21, 2016

Full Pink Moon - Part Two

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CHAPTER NINE: FULL PINK MOON - PART TWO

Russ snuck another worried glance at Dawn as she sniffled on his couch. He’d been trying — all but begging — for over an hour to get her to tell him what was wrong, but she either just shook her head or burst into tears. She wouldn’t even let him touch her. Wouldn’t even let him close. He fought the helpless whimpers clogging his choked-up throat as he perched on the other end of the couch, trying like hell to give her as much space and support that he could. It was killing him, not being able to help.

Had she run into Tucker in town? Had he stopped by her school again? A growl ripped through him. If he’d hurt her again…

He looked up when he felt Dawn’s hand rest on his arm soothingly. He groaned and wanted to kick himself. “Please, don’t do that.”

Dawn sniffed and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “Do what?”

He reached out and grabbed her a tissue. “Comfort me, while you cry.”

She blew her nose. “I’m sorry.”

“And now you’re apologizing.” Russ clutched his chest dramatically. “You’re really trying your best to make me look like the world’s worst partner.”

He smiled when he heard her wetly giggle behind her tissue. “I’m not trying to.”

Shaking his head, he tsked playfully. “So just succeeding then, I see.”

She chuckled again, this time louder. That was more like it. “I love your laugh.” He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but couldn’t regret it when he was rewarded by another laugh as she snuggled closer to him. He kissed the top of her head. “You want to talk about it now?”

She bit her lip and scrunched her nose as she thought about it, before shaking her head. “I don’t want to cry anymore.”

Even as a part of him ached for her to trust him with her tears, Russ understood that. Now that she’d finally stopped, he could imagine her being afraid to start it all up again. So he nodded. She liked to run, but she looked exhausted. Baking while tired didn’t sound like such a great idea either. He wondered whether reading while emotionally drained was wise. What did that leave her with? He frowned. If he was in her place, what would make him feel better? He rubbed his cheek against her hair. “Want to help me in the garden?” She liked it there and had said that sometimes tending the earth could help ground a person. He peeked down at her hopefully.

He felt her tip her head pensively, one way and then the other, before nodding. She peered up at him, her wet eyes shining a bit brighter. “You know what? I think I would.”

He grinned, wrapping his arms around her.

After two sweaty hours of weeding and pruning and, to be honest, simply playing around in the dirt, Russ was glad to see Dawn’s mood lift. Like it often did for him, having a simple task to complete seemed to steady Dawn, giving her back the control she’d lost.  

Russ leaned back and breathed deep, enjoying the warm sun and the earthy scents surrounding him, when Dawn finally spoke. “Do you think I’m selfish?”

Frowning, he turned to her as she dug around in the dirt, picking up tiny twigs and roots to give the plants some more space. “I would never think that about you.” She was the most giving soul he knew, always thinking about the wants and needs of those around her. He narrowed his gaze on the serious look on her face. “You should never think that either.”

She didn’t say anything to that. Didn’t even turn to look at him. Just stared at the dark soil, as if she could find her answers there.

Going to her, he wiped some smudged dirt off her forehead. “You give so much of yourself to help your kids.”

She twisted her face away from him. “But I still feel like I’m failing them.”

“Failing them how?” Where were these thoughts coming from? “Did something happen at the school?”

“One of my werewolf students got into a fight with the brother of one of my human students.” Her face fell, the look of anguish feeling like a knife to the gut to him. “All because the two had become friends.” She shook her head. “I was so stupid. I really thought, if I could get through to these kids, that would solve everything.” Her fists tightened on the garden mess, snapping the tiny sticks. “But they still have to deal with this huge, broken world beyond my classroom that doesn’t work the way I’ve taught them it should.” Her gaze stared out in despair across the pond. “Am I just giving them false hope and flawed expectations? What if all I’m really doing is setting them up for failure? For disappointment?”

Russ hated the pain and disillusionment in her strained voice. Hated how useless and inadequate it made him feel. Dawn was hurting and, no matter how much he wished he did, he didn’t have the words or ways to fix what felt so broken. He wasn’t particularly smart or ambitious. Wasn’t exactly an optimist or some earnest idealist. He was never going to change the world; he wouldn’t even know where to start, much less what advice to give. Shaking his head, he wished he could be what she needed. What she deserved. 

He shrugged, looking down at the mint he’d been harvesting. “Maybe you are,” he admitted, thinking about his own life. When she turned to gape at him, clearly letting him know that those were not the words of encouragement she was expecting. But it was the truth and, much as he might want to, he found he couldn’t lie to her. “The world is disappointing and it can be deeply unfair to people for all kinds of messed-up reasons. And it’ll always fall short of what we wished it would be.”

“I really hope you’ve got one hell of a but coming up soon,” she mumbled, disgruntled. “Or I think I might start crying again.”

He gave her a small smile. “Those kids, like everyone else, are going to face hardships. They’re going to meet people and situations that challenge them, maybe even try to tear them down.” That was just facts. Life, for all its good days, could be damned unforgiving. “But they’ll also have something not everyone is lucky enough to get.”

Dawn bit her lip and quietly asked, “What’s that?”

“Hope,” he said, looking at her. “Something to believe in that’s worth fighting for. Because someone in their life cared enough to plant that seed.” He fingered the herb that he’d tended now for three years, seeing it grow and flourish and wither and begin anew, over and over. 

Dawn had been right when she’d said that a plant like this didn’t really need all that much care but, what it did need, he’d done his best to give. And here it was, three years later. In that time, he’d dried it into tea and used it for garnish. He’d even given some to Garrett to share with the rest of the pack. “You can never know for sure how a seed will grow. Sometimes they die or get sick before ever sprouting. Sometimes they require extra care just to survive, while others thrive all on their own.” He reached over with a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped the sweat from Dawn’s dirty brow, marveling at how someone like her had found her way into his life. “But one thing I know for certain: nothing can ever grow, if that seed never gets planted.”

Dawn’s smile, no matter how often he saw it, would always feel like a miracle; he was sure of it. It was like the first ray of sunshine after a storm. But, just as quickly as it appeared, it fell again. “But not all seeds are good, are they?”

He tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

She huffed. “I think I might have led Tucker on.”

Russ stiffened, his lip curling in disgust. “What?”

He hadn’t meant to yell and hated himself when she flinched. “I didn’t mean to,” she rushed to say, guilt dripping from every word. “It’s just I hate confrontation and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. So, when he first started talking to me, I just…” She shrugged. “I would dodge his advances and put him off.” She groaned and hung her head. “And, by the time I did — straight-up, no sugar — tell him no…” She pursed her lips and let out an exasperated huff. “I think he’d been listening so intently for my anticipated yes that he just couldn’t hear my no.”

Russ bit back a growl. “Then he should get his damned hearing checked.” When Dawn looked taken aback by his responses, he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what he expected you to say or what he really, really wanted you to say; only what you said.” 

When he still saw doubt in her eyes, he wanted to howl. “I heard you tell him no. No matter what you might have said or done before that, you said no. Clearly and unmistakably. And that asshole still violated your consent.” His fists clenched at the memory. “I know it almost cost me my freedom. It could have doomed the entire pack — hell, maybe even every werewolf or predator in the country.” He looked deep into Dawn’s eyes, letting her see the truth he felt burning in his soul. “But I don’t regret what I did. No one gets to treat you like that. No one should ever treat anyone like that.” He carefully unclenched his fists to gently brush her soft curls behind her ear. “But, as long as I’m here, no one will treat you that way. Not ever.”

Panic flickered through him as he saw her face scrunch and her eyes begin to water. His hand, still cupping her head gently, tensed as he wondered what he’d done wrong and tried to desperately think of how to make it right.

But then she turned into his palm, trusting as a kitten, and beamed up at him. “You know, for someone who swears he’s not good with words, you always manage to find the exact right ones with me.”

And, right then, he felt something inside him crack, as love for this woman — his mate — crashed through him like a tidal wave. He felt helpless beneath its weight. Too choked to reply, he simply pulled her close for a kiss, letting that torrential force pour through him and into her, and hoped she could somehow feel it too.


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Loopholes - Part Three

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CHAPTER FIVE: LOOPHOLES - PART THREE

Harri cringed at Nate’s biting sneer. “I knew it! When she didn’t come home last night, I knew she had to be with you.”

Her eyes widened when Azel scoffed back at Nate. “Too fucking right, dipshit. She’s with me now. So. Back. Off.”

“Or what?”

Azel’s wings spread open, the span huge and intimidating as those leathery lengths seemed to drape and overtake the room. Harri took a step back as Azel snarled, the sound threatening, promising. “Pray you never find out.” He hung up before tossing the phone onto the couch. 

Harri had never seen him mad before. She didn’t really like seeing anyone upset but, with Azel… It wasn’t as if she was afraid of him. Not exactly. She didn’t think he was angry with her, didn’t think he would turn that anger on her. But she could feel a violence in him and that threat, even if it wasn’t aimed at her… unnerved her. She didn’t like it. Didn’t like what it did to him, turning him into someone she didn’t recognize. He turned to her, fire still blazing in his eyes. “If he ever messes with you again, call me.”

Harri frowned. “Why?”

Azel jerked as he looked at her confused. “What do you mean, why?”

Harri shook her head. “What are you going to do about it, if Nate does?” She narrowed her gaze, feeling tired of it all. Sick and goddamned tired of literally everyone in her life feeling as if they could order her around like some child. “Are you going to beat him up? Scare him off?”

Azel puffed up, making himself somehow even bigger. “I could.” 

She shook her head, refusing to be cowed. “Again, why?” She huffed. “Who asked you to? Because it sure as hell wasn’t me!”

Azel narrowed his gaze at her. “I thought you hired me to deal with him.”

Harri scowled, not liking how that sounded. He made it sound dirty. Underhanded. Like some shady… deal with the devil. Which, she supposed, in a way, it was. But not like that. That hadn’t been her intention. That wasn’t what she wanted. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I made a deal with you to help him move on, not hurt him.”

Azel began to pace. “He’s harassing you, practically stalking you—”

Harri waved him off. “That’s an exaggeration.”

“Is it?” He raised a dubious eyebrow at her. “He watches your every move from next door. Keeps tabs on you through your family and friends. No matter what you say or do, he refuses to listen and continues to act like you’re still together. For God’s sake, he called your work number to trick you into taking his calls. If that’s not harassment, what is?” He shook his head, disbelieving. “Yet it’s you that feels guilty. You who’s wringing your hands, twisting yourself into knots, working so goddamned hard not to hurt his precious feelings. Why do you still care?” He shot her an almost accusing glare. “Don’t tell me you still have feelings for that controlling creep.”

She sneered right back. “Because I need to have feelings for someone to not want to hurt them any more than necessary?” Harri didn’t like the idea of hurting anyone, much less someone she’d thought herself in love with once. She’d already broken Nate’s heart; was it really so strange that she didn’t want to do any more damage than she already had?

Azel rolled his dark eyes, the red rings around his pupils almost mocking. “The way he’s acting, seems like he’s asking for someone to hurt him.”

“I thought it was your job to do what I asked, not what he does.”

Harri felt as startled by the cold, bitter words that escaped her mouth as Azel was. And he looked like she’d struck him. Maybe she had. Not physically, of course, but she’d taken everything they’d shared — every conversation and interaction, every moment of connection — and cheapened it to nothing more than a job. A sale. 

She pursed her lips, feeling instantly guilty at the shock in his eyes. She didn’t like the idea of hurting Azel either. But still… “I told you, I don’t like people, who don’t need to know my business, knowing my business.” She groaned and shut her eyes. “And now Nate knows I spent the night here. With you. And he must think we…” She gestured between them knowingly, her cheeks flushing hotly. And, undoubtedly, in true Nate fashion, he’d likely run out to tell everyone in their social circles that she was having a torrid affair with Azel. Great. Just great. In trying to solve one problem, she’d created an even worse one. 

Damnit! 

She and Azel stared at each other for a long, painfully silent moment. Looking into his unreadable eyes, she wished she could know what he was thinking. Did he think she was being naive? Weak? Foolish? Did he regret ever getting involved with her? Someone too useless and incompetent and awkward to handle her own life properly. Who needed to hire someone to do something as easy as end a relationship, something a teenager should be able to do on her own. She frowned, afraid he was right.

Tucking his wings back again, Azel took a deep breath. “Are you scared of me now?”

Harri tensed. “No.”

He scoffed and turned away from her. “Incubi feed on people’s emotions; I know what your fear tastes like.” He shot her an inscrutable look. “Regretting letting the demon in your door?”

Maybe. A little. She looked away from him, hating this feeling. Humiliated. Exposed. Helpless. In front of everyone she knew, from her family to her friends. Hell, even in front of Azel. It was too much to bear. 

She simply wanted it all to stop. She wanted her life back. Her control back. “Look,” she said with a frustrated sigh, “I’m paying you to pretend to be my boyfriend, to effectively make me look unavailable. Our deal is between you and me. That’s all. Please, don’t do any more than that. I don’t want you to deal with Nate at all.” It just made everything worse, more complicated and unimaginably messy, when she’d been trying so hard to make it all simple. “Okay?”

With a stiff nod, he took a step back and crossed his arms over his broad chest. In a cool, distant voice, he said, “Whatever you say, boss.”


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Sunday, March 20, 2016

Full Pink Moon - Part One

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CHAPTER NINE: FULL PINK MOON - PART ONE

Dawn rushed into Principal Axford’s office. She’d been cleaning up after class, when the office had called, saying Bobby, one of her werewolf students, had been involved in a fight with some older kids. 

Frowning, she saw Bobby standing in the corner with his head hanging down and his hands behind his back between two school resource officers, while three older boys sat in chairs across from Principal Axford’s desk. They all looked like they’d been rolling around in the dirt outside, blood and dirt staining their clothes. One of the boys, blond with freckles and a pretty nasty busted lip, looked vaguely familiar but Dawn couldn’t pin down why. She frowned as Marci handed the boy a tissue and wondered what the librarian was doing here.

“What happened?” Dawn asked, moving to stand next to her student, only to be held back by one of the officers.

“Miss Meadows,” Principal Axford said, “Robert Griffin is one of your students, correct?”

“Yes,” she said, her frown deepening as she kept her eyes on the small boy. “Is he handcuffed? Why is he handcuffed?” She turned to one of the officers. “He’s a six-year-old child!” She reached for Bobby, pulling him close. “Take these off. Now!”

“Miss Meadows.” Principal Axford’s voice was stiff and loud. “Mr. Griffin was caught assaulting Mr. Cloughton outside the building.”

Cloughton? As in Jenny Cloughton, from her class? Had Bobby gotten into a fight with Jenny’s brother? She turned and looked at the boy dabbing his bleeding lip with a tissue. He had Jenny’s blond hair and the same green eyes. “How did the fight start?” She looked at all four boys, who refused to meet her gaze. She looked at Jenny’s brother. “Does this have anything to do with your sister?”

“Jenny didn’t do anything,” both he and Bobby said at the same time.

Which might be true, but also meant she was likely the reason the fight had started. Dawn sighed. “Where is Jenny now?”

Bobby blushed and looked away. “She has soccer practice.”

“And he was watching her,” Jenny’s brother spat out accusingly. 

“She said I could!” Bobby stared directly into Dawn’s eyes. “She asked me to.” He shook his head, his tiny body thrashing with the effort against his bonds, when the other boys began to grumble. “She did! I wasn’t doing anything. I just wanted to watch her play.” His lips trembled into a frown. “She wanted me to watch her play.”

“It’s all right, Bobby.” Dawn laid a supportive hand on his shoulder. “I believe you.” She turned to meet Principal Axford’s gaze. “Jenny’s in my class as well; they’re friends.”

Jenny’s brother pointed a damning finger at Bobby. “He wasn’t just watching; he was creeping on her.” He said the words like it was something unquestionable, almost as if it was something he’d heard from someone else – some trusted adult – and was repeating it without fully understanding it. When the adults in the room just looked at him questioningly, he continued, “He was running along the sidelines of the field, following Jenny wherever she went.” He turned to glare at Bobby. “Like some big, bad wolf.”

One of the resource officers nodded. “We were called to the field because it was making some of the girls on the team and a lot of parents uncomfortable, him running and howling at them like that.”

Bobby balked. “I was just cheering her on.” His brow furrowed as his cheeks flushed with humiliation. “I thought that was what you were supposed to do.”

Dawn patted his shoulder but met the officers’ eyes. “Okay, so Bobby was behaving a bit too exuberantly.” That happened with children all the time. It didn’t usually call for police enforcement, but she knew that the werewolf children – especially werewolf boys – were subject to harsher discipline than the other ones. “But how did that lead to a fight?”

All the boys turned away, none of them willing to meet anyone’s gaze, much less Dawn’s.

Marci sighed. “Once the officers showed up on the field, apparently, the boys retreated to the side of the building, where I saw the altercation from the library window.” Her brow furrowed. “I saw Mr. Griffin wrestle Michael here,” she said, gesturing to Jenny’s brother, “to the ground and pummel him repeatedly.” She shook her head. “And, when his friends tried to pull Mr. Griffin off him, Mr. Griffin turned to strike them.” She shook her head. “By the time I made it outside to break it up, the fight was in full swing and Mr. Griffin was partially shifted.”

“I didn’t mean to!” Bobby insisted, his voice almost like a puppy’s whine. Blinking back tears, he struggled closer to Dawn as the officers grabbed him by the arms. “I didn’t try to.” Dawn could see Bobby’s nails begin to grow, his teeth length into the beginnings of fangs. “Please don’t tell my mom or my dad or Alpha Wright.” Fur began to sprout on his face and arms and his wet eyes became almost feral. “Please, Miss Dawn.”

Dawn tried to soothe the young boy. “Bobby. Bobby!” She turned to the grown men attempting to restrain the tiny, now weeping boy. “Please stop; you’re scaring him.”

Still keeping a hard hold on the child, one of the officers said stoically, “When he calms down, we’ll let him go.”

Dawn fought the urge to scream. “He can’t calm down, if you’re scaring him!”

“Miss, this is for your safety as well as ours—” 

Surprised, Dawn jerked when she felt a hand gently but firmly push her aside. With a sigh, Marci knelt down in front of the boy, her gaze piercing, even behind her mirrored, wraparound glasses. “Stop and take a breath.” Almost immediately, at her authoritative tone, Bobby’s yipping yowls quieted into sniffling hiccups as he stared into his own eyes in the reflection of Marci’s glasses. 

After several shaky breaths, Marci nodded. “Good.” With a slight lift of her head, she focused her gaze at the officers, her hair slithering about her head. Even Dawn – even from behind Marci’s dark, shielding glasses – bit back a gasp as the woman wielded her gaze like the sheathed weapon it was, making the uniformed men let go of Bobby and take an instinctive step back. Satisfied, Marci turned and mercilessly met Bobby’s tear-filled gaze. “I know you’re overwhelmed. Scared. But we’re monsters, right?”

Dawn cringed at the term. She didn’t like that word. Bobby was a child. So were all her werewolf students. Same as the human children. And she absolutely refused to see any of them as monsters, much less treat them like them. Ready to step in, she looked to Bobby, expecting him to be hurt or offended. 

But he wasn’t. Instead, he nodded very seriously at Marci, who stared back at him just as meaningfully, with an understanding between the two that Dawn just didn’t grasp.

“When we’re scared, we scare others,” Marci continued. “And that just makes everything worse. We cannot afford to lose control, can we?” When Bobby shook his head, she nodded sagely. “That’s right. Because when we lose control, they will do whatever they think they must to control us. And not just to you. To all of us.” She gripped Bobby by the shoulders, but in a way that seemed to hold him up, not down. “That’s why we have to be stronger. Better. Not just for ourselves, but for everyone like us. So we don’t cry. We don’t lash out. We maintain control.” 

Bobby sniffled and tried to wipe his face but, when his bound arms couldn’t, he stood straighter, puffing his still slightly shaky chest out bravely, and nodded. 

Marci grabbed a tissue and held it to Bobby’s nose, letting him blow into it. “That’s it.” She looked up at the officers. “Can we at least get him a chair to sit in?”

Dawn watched as chairs were silently, obediently shuffled, so Bobby, with his hands still cuffed behind his back, could sit down. As the children’s parents began to file into the room, Dawn tried to meet Marci’s gaze gratefully. But, even with her eyes hidden, Marci steadfastly refused to meet Dawn’s gaze, making Dawn frown. 

Was Marci mad at her? Why would she be angry with her? What had she done to offend Marci? It made it hard to concentrate on the discussion – even though she knew she really should, as Bobby’s and Jenny’s teacher. But all she could think was that she still needed to talk to Marci about Tucker.

Before she knew it, the meeting had ended. All the boys had been suspended and were scheduled to take conflict resolution sessions with the school counselor. Bobby was banned from going to any after-school activities, like sports games, until the counselor cleared him. And Jenny’s parents requested a transfer for their daughter to a new, less disruptive class. Dawn held back as they all filed out of the principal’s office, watching the parents and students grumble as they made their way out of the school. Left alone with Marci in the now empty hallway, Dawn turned, taking a step toward her. “Marci?” She bit her lip as the other woman paused but didn’t turn around. “Can we talk?”

 Without turning around, Marci shook her head. “About what?”

About what, indeed. Dawn ought to ask her more about the fight. She needed to talk to Marci about Tucker. Instead, she asked, “Did I do something to make you mad at me?”

Her back stiffened as Marci scoffed. “What makes you think I’m mad at you?” She shot a glare over her shoulder. “What makes you think I think about you at all?”

Dawn flinched at her cutting tone. “I thought we were friends.”

Marci turned to face her with her arms crossed over her chest. “You think because we work at the same school, that we drink the same dirt-cheap coffee in the same break room, that makes us friends?” 

That shouldn’t have hurt, but it did. Dawn didn’t have many friends here in town and she’d thought Marci might be among them. Guess she was wrong. “I’m sorry if I did something to offend you.”

“Offend me?” Marci let out a harsh bark of laughter. “What do you think you’ve done to offend me?”

Dawn shook her head. “I don’t know but, whatever it was, I sincerely apologize.”

Marci laughed again. “You apologize? For something you don’t even know you did.” She shook her head. “How sincere do you think that kind of apology is, really?” She walked closer, her serpentine hair swirling around her. “You think, because you’re screwing one of us, that you know what it’s like to be one of us.”

Dawn’s brow furrowed. “One of us?”

Marci shot her a scathing glare. “Monsters. Predators.” She shook her head at Dawn’s shocked reaction. “You may not be human, but you have no idea. You have no clue what it’s like to have people be afraid of you, not for anything you did or said, but just for being you. To have people, with one look at you, think they know everything they need to know about you. To have them, at best, run away from you and, at worst…” Marci huffed at Dawn, gesturing in the direction Bobby and his parents had gone. “You have no idea what it’s like to live your life terrorized by other people’s fear. To have it used against you. Unfairly. Without reason. And to have everyone around them just believe them, believe the absolute worst of you, no matter what you say or do. The world, to protect those like you and little Jenny – those who the world sees as sweet, pretty, and by dainty default innocent – will burn us to the ground. And, as everyone stands around the fire, they’ll pat themselves on the back and call themselves heroes for making you feel safe, regardless of whether you were actually ever in danger.”

Dawn shook her head. “Jenny is innocent; she didn’t do anything.” She furrowed her brow. “And I was trying to help Bobby!”

“You want a medal for that?” Marci scoffed. “But just look at what the administration, those parents, those resource officers, even her brother and his friends — literal children — are willing to do for Jenny’s perceived safety.” Her hair hissed and twitched in irritation. “Look at what your management, the cops, even the pack — who should know better — are willing to do to protect you.”

“Me?” Dawn’s eyes widened with surprise.

Marci took a step closer to her. “Did you know that they kept Tucker in the hospital, for hours, questioning him. Threatening his job. His home. Threatening to charge him. Practically accusing him of attacking you. While he was in the hospital.”

“He did attack me,” Dawn insisted. “In my home. He—”

“He kissed you.” Marci rolled her eyes — her whole head — before leaning closer to Dawn. “He really liked you, you know. Thought you liked him too.”

Dawn held out her hands and shook her head. “I never—”

“You wrote him letters. Baked him treats. Flirted with him.” When Dawn stiffened and frowned, Marci shook her head. “What was he supposed to think? Then someone you like better comes along and, instead of being an adult and just letting him down nicely, you used him to make your new guy jealous!”

What? Dawn balked. No. “That’s not true. I never flirted with Tucker.”

Marci raised an eyebrow. “So you didn’t bat your eyes and share cute, little banter with him? You didn’t leave little notes and lemon bars at his door?”

 “I—” It wasn’t like that. “I told him I wasn’t interested.”

“No, you said you didn’t have time,” Marci pointed out. “So he gave you time. He made time for you.” She gave a mystified laugh. “He put together picnics for you. Searched the grounds to find your lost things. Swept in like some freaking white knight to help you, when your clumsy ass got injured. He did all the things the rest of us only dream someone would do for us, and you treated him like some toy you could play with until he breaks!” She sneered at her. “Like some monster you needed to be rescued from.”

Dawn stumbled a step back, feeling Marci’s words like a slap. No. That wasn’t— It wasn’t— She hadn’t— “Is that what he told you?” Why would he tell her that? Why would he tell anyone that?

“Afraid your damsel in distress act won’t hold up when people start listening to the dragon?” Her snakes hissed about her face. “So, no,” Marci said, turning away, “we are not friends. And, sincerely, I don’t want your apology.”


READ PART TW(fix)O


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