Authors: Charlotte Swanpol
Chapter 8
For the first time the lump in my throat was not caused by sexual tension and desire. In fact, I had none in me at that moment. I was still lost in thought. My mind was racing with everything I’d been expected to take in and believe in one night.
Believing that Joseph wanted to stay in town and desired for me to quit my job and stay with him had been difficult enough. It went against everything that was acceptable and commonplace. Though I’d learned almost immediately that he was anything but common, I still couldn’t fathom a man going so far against the grain as to enter a relationship that was destined to create troubles. It was only his insistence that had swayed me.
When he’d then promised to tell me what had occupied so much of his time, I had felt true faith that his feelings were the same as those I had. Then he had begun his story. I had heard a lot of things in my lifetime, but never ones such as what he was saying to me that night.
I were to believe the man that now sat in silence beside me, then I would acknowledge that I loved a man that spent his evenings in the form a wolf. That had been his story. He was a wolf, as was Mike, and they belonged to a pack that had traveled to this area and now were considering making it a permanent residence.
A wolf? I was supposed to believe that there were men that took the form of large and dangerous animals? I had initially laughed, believing him to be teasing with me. It wasn’t until he swore that he was telling the truth that I was forced to face the fact that he truly believed what he was saying. That was when my true reaction had shown itself.
I do not believe he was prepared for what he would hear. I had spent several minutes telling him that I felt he was ill. I insisted we take him to a hospital so that they could help him. After all, he had seen a lot of things as a soldier. Perhaps it had interfered with some of his thoughts.
When he continued to insist it was true and refuse to be seen, I then became angry. I felt he was using a completely fabricated story to cover up something more serious. I insisted he be honest-- demanding he tell me the truth about what he was hiding. A wife? Children? A deep dark secret? Had he ran away from his duties? Of course, he’d continued to swear it was the truth.
That had left me crying. I wasn’t even certain why I had cried and could not seem to stop. Frustration, anger, sadness? I did not know. I only knew that emotions overwhelmed me.
“I can show you,” he finally broke the silence. “Tonight. I can show you.”
The tears had stopped, but confusion was still clouding my mind. Now he would like for me to go with him and see this pack of men turn into wolves? If he were serious, would that not put me in danger?
“How would you show me such a thing? I would imagine that a group of man wolves would be dangerous for a woman such as myself.”
He sat for a moment as if the idea hadn’t occurred to him previously. Then I saw his face brighten and a smirk begin to spread.
“I have an idea,” he didn’t elaborate. “Just come with me tonight. I will show you. Then you can tell me how you feel.”
The remainder of the day I tried to avoid thinking of the situation. I did not want to consider what was going to happen. Either I would see that he was telling the truth and I would have to decide if I could love him in spite of it, or I would realize he was truly mentally ill and I would be forced to handle that.
Unfortunately, the day seemed to pass quickly and as evening began to set in he took me to a spot where I was to wait and watch. He urged me to be quiet and not draw attention. He would lead them away and then I would leave before I caught. When he returned home we would talk.
Skeptical, I waited quietly and patiently. Within less than an hour I heard voices. There were about seven men standing in a clearing in the woods. I recognized Joseph and Mike, but the others were strangers. Not from town and I’d never met them. All of them as sexy as the two I was intimately familiar with.
I could not hear their chatter, but they were talking for some time. Eventually they all quieted and silence filled the air. I heard sounds that were unfamiliar to me and to my amazement the men began to transform before my eyes.
What seemed to be slow motion captured men bending, standing on hands and feet as animals and slowly transforming from men into large and terrifying beasts. Clothes became tattered and torn, eventually falling off as their new forms took shape. Each of them resembled their human form.
Joseph was the largest, his fur a sandy color, and the eyes still a piercing blue. What should have frightened me, intrigued me. I found him just as sexy in this form as I had found him as a man.
Shortly after they howled and headed further into the woods, him stopping a moment to turn in my direction before leading, I stood and returned to our room.
There was no need to wake me when he arrived as I was already alert and waiting on him. He didn’t attempt to touch me or kiss me. He merely walked over and found a spot beside me to sit. Silence filled the air.
I was the one to finally break it when I spoke clearly.
“I do not know what to do,” I began. “At some point I may ask. Until then, please do not share. Your question was whether I would choose to stay with you.” I took a deep breath.
How did one answer something like that without addressing what I had seen? There was no way to prevent acknowledging it.
“I only wanted to know what you spent your evenings doing because I feared there was a family or another woman waiting for you elsewhere. I had no expectation of what I would hear and see. I would never have believed it. I’m not sure what to think of it.”
I waited a moment, trying to catch my breath and form my words. I didn’t wish him to speak and fortunately he did not try.
“The only thing I know is that in that moment, it did not matter. I saw what you became. I still saw you. Underneath the….even as that…I still saw you. So yes, I will stay with you. Just please do not ask me to discuss or be okay with what I know as I am not ready. But I will be here and love you regardless.”
He looked at me and for the first time I saw a vulnerable and frightened man. He was truly afraid of losing me. Slowly the color returned to his face and I saw a smile spread.
“That is all I ask for,” he leaned towards me. “That is all I need.”
With that Joseph kissed me and for the first time since we’d met, he truly made love to me. Soft, sweet and passionate. As he wrapped his arms around me and we drifted off to sleep I knew only one thing. I love the man and I would handle whatever I had to handle to fall asleep in his arms every night.
THE END
Natalia Shields
The One
Chapter 1
Fern took a sip from her glass of chardonnay and inspected the damage. Though normally her greatest enemy, her reflection appeared to have taken a rest from its relentless battle, and cooperate this evening. Her long, blonde hair flowed in smooth, glamorous curls past her shoulders; the transformation from her regular, frizzy ringlets still baffled her.
Be sure to get the name of that hair product from Kristen
, she told herself.
Fern leaned forward to get a better look at her makeup. She’d allowed Kristen to go wild with her collection of shadows and bronzers, but never in a million years did Fern think she could be made up to look as flawless as this stranger in the mirror. Kristen had even lent her some of the signature pieces from her wardrobe. Certain there was some sort of sorcery involved, Fern couldn’t believe how well the slim-fit pants and the stunning black sleeveless blouse fit her; Kristen, God love her, was several sizes smaller than Fern, but the ensemble hugged Fern’s curves, accentuating her hourglass figure. After this makeover, Kristen was definitely deserving of her Best Friend title.
Thinking back to her arrival that night, Fern snorted to herself. She must have looked a mess – she’d believed she was coming over for a girls’ night, full of wine and movies and candy – her hair up in a bun, sweatpants with a stain on the crotch where her favorite lip gloss exploded. At least she’d come prepared with a few bottles of wine and her favorite caramel-filled chocolates. She drained the remaining chardonnay and did a little half-spin, taking in her form in one final assessment. A self-satisfied smile crept to her lips, she barely remembered her broken engagement. Until she did.
It was hard to believe that just three weeks ago, she was engaged to be married. She looked down at her bare left hand and swallowed the knot that rose in her throat. She shook her head in sad disbelief. Joel had been everything she was looking for in a husband. Handsome, funny, logical, and intelligent – plus, her parents loved him, or so she thought – not to mention, they had been dating since sophomore year of college. She had it all planned out: the wedding would be romantic with a rustic elegance, and once they finished their respective degrees – she, a degree in Linguistics, and he, a degree in Law – they would move out of their one-bedroom apartment and buy a house in the suburbs. They’d have two kids, a boy and a girl, and maybe a dog or two. They would travel around as a family, making so many lovely memories.
But that perfect picture was ruined when, three weeks ago, she came home early from a particularly onerous Advanced Linguistics exam. It was difficult, but her strict studying regime had prepared her far better than she’d expected – what should have taken four hours took her a mere two and a half. She was exhausted, but relieved, and after stopping at their favorite bakery for some cupcakes to celebrate, she walked through her apartment door an hour and a half earlier than expected.
Joel, her beloved fiancé, snatched up a pillow from the loveseat, upon which he was mid-thrust behind a busty young lady with more tattoos than she could count, and sheepishly covered himself with it as he pushed her off of him.
Stunned, Fern stood there, bag of cupcakes in hand and mouth agape. Though she knew the answer, she asked anyway.
“What the hell is this?”
The stupid tramp was smart enough to leave, immediately, but Joel stayed. They argued for hours. He shouted this and she yelled that, he placed blame and she rebutted. For a brief moment, Fern thought that she might have been willing to give it another chance.
“How long has this been going on? Was it a one-time thing?” her question was tainted with hope.
“Eight months,” came the reply. Her heart sank; it began two months after he proposed.
“How the fuck have you been hiding an affair with some tattooed bimbo for eight months?” she exclaimed. “You can barely keep it to yourself when you have a dirty dream about another woman!”
“It hasn’t been just her,” Joel confessed.
“I beg your pardon?” she hissed. Hot fury rose within Fern, betrayal stinging her cheeks.
“You’re too safe,” he sighed. “You had planned our whole lives down to our last breaths – I was craving excitement, spontaneity, danger. Basically, anything that wasn’t you.”
“Get. Out,” Fern whispered.
And, except for the day a week later when he came to clear out his things, she hadn’t seen him since.
A bang on the bathroom door startled Fern, and she opened it to reveal Kristen’s dazzling grin smiling up at her. At barely above five feet tall, at least a good eight inches shorter than Fern, Kristen was a feisty little thing. With poker-straight strawberry-blonde hair and freckles from head to toe, her personality was bigger than her body gave credit for.
“Are you done in here, yet?” Kristen blurted. “I’m gonna piss myself!”
Fern smiled in spite of herself, and a tear leaked down her perfectly made-up face.
“Oh, no, no, honey, none of that! Not tonight!” Kristen sympathized. “You are a fiery, intelligent, gorgeous woman – remember that! We’re going to go out and have fun tonight, okay?!”
“Okay,” Fern agreed, hugging her friend, and Kristen squealed.
As much as Fern wanted to block the way, and wreak havoc on her friend’s bladder, she stepped aside as Kristen rushed in, and joined the ladies cackling in the living room. She knew only two of the six remaining girls, and was closest by far with Kristen; she’d always valued quality over quantity, whether friends, meals, or otherwise, but it felt good to be surrounded by the cacophony of drunken excitement.
“GIRL! Would you
look
at that ASS!?” Trish exploded, and the other girls whipped their heads around to see. “You just watch, Fern! You’re going to be fighting guys off with your purse when you’re shaking that thing on the dance floor!”
Sixteen more friend points to Trish,
Fern smirked. “Pass the Pinot Grigio – if I’m going to be shaking anything tonight, I’m going to need
a lot
more wine!”
As she poured another glass of white, Fern looked around at the giggling faces and thought to herself that maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad, after all.
Chapter 2
He strode out of the ladies’ room, grinding his teeth and brushing a finger briefly beneath his nostrils. He took a deep breath and felt his skin come alive; felt his heartbeat electrify with the pulse of the drum and bass. The flickering strobe lights and throbbing crowd called to him, and he licked his lips as he slid into the throng. Body to body, he could forget everything – responsibility, pain – and just be.
He knew they were temporary, these good feelings. He knew that in another hour he’d have to make his way back, through the grinding, to the grimy bathroom stall; he knew that an hour after that, he’d be doing it again. He knew sleep was a long shot tonight, and a restful one an even longer shot, so he resolved to stay awake. He chose to stay numb.
For minutes that felt like hours, he let his body move and his mind wander. He let his hands wander, as well, finding themselves running through the spiky, white-blonde hair of a short, androgynous girl, her white tank top clinging to her thin, sweaty frame. He tilted her face up toward his, and leaned in, her hands clawing their way beneath his layers. They searched beneath his worn leather jacket, under his t-shirt, until they found his zipper, and submerged.
He peeled away from her face, blinking, and looked at her clearly for the first time. She looked up at him, dazed and glossy-eyed, and swaying like kelp caught in a low tide. He removed her hand from his pants, and pulled her toward the bathroom, keen on his escape.
As he pushed open the door to the ladies’ room, raucous laughter made him cringe; he didn’t feel like dealing with some stoned, drunken broads offended by his presence. Relieved that the men’s room was empty, he marched to the corner stall, the bigger of the two, and latched the door behind them. As the girl knelt in front of him, he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket to remove a big silver key, and a glass vial the length of his pinky. Escape never felt so good.
A few moments later, he stood at the sink, splashing some water on his face, and she crept by him, wiping her chin, and slipped out the door to disappear into the mass of bodies. As he patted his face dry, he looked in the mirror. His stringy, black hair hung in a sweaty curtain to his shoulders. His torn black jeans rode low beneath his t-shirt, the leather belt weathered from use. With a hair tie on his wrist, he pulled back the mess to contemplate his face. He looked tired. Fuck, he was tired. His eyelids began to droop, and he shook his head. Another few minutes and he’d be up, again.
He looked in the mirror, once more, but instead of the greasy fuck-up he expected, he saw the broken and bloodied face that haunted his dreams; an attractive, if slightly feminine young man with bright blue eyes and a strong jaw. The once straight nose was impossibly broken, a sheet of blood covering half of the man’s face from a deep wound lost amid deep chestnut hair.
He let out a yelp, and the face was gone, back to that of an indifferent nobody, painted with a blend of shock and grief. That palette didn’t have long to dry before euphoria washed over him, smearing his emotions into murky grey nothing.
As he walked out of the bathroom, he felt a vague sting in his right hand. When he looked down, he noticed blood dripping from his knuckles. He shrugged it off and dissolved into the high.