The first time my eyes alight on Mason, I'm in a library looking for a book to distract myself from the feeling Alicia and her boyfriend, Cade, have aroused in me. I content myself with trying to find a book that can offer me the illusion of being in a hot, romantic relationship.
Searching the shelves, absorbed with our search as we were, Mason and I bump elbows. I glance at him and can't look away. His lips are perfect, framed by a sexy five o'clock shadow. His eyelashes are long, and I can see the shade they cast on his face. From head to toe, he looks as hot as Dean. And add a few more degrees. Something about his—
'You are hot,' he says to me but doesn't spare a glance.
My heart races. I fumble for the right response to the compliment. Who needs a book when they can have the real thing anyway?
Finally, he turns his face to me. Maybe he thinks I didn't catch that because I may have appeared confused, so he says it again. 'You are hot.'
I can't help the girly giggle I give. He immediately gives me a blank look. 'Oh,' he says, realizing, 'I didn't mean that. I meant that your body temperature is high.' He has this cool confidence when he speaks, it makes me feel safe.
Wait. What?
He goes back to tracing an index finger across books on the shelves. I do nothing but stare at him in shock, but he doesn't notice. Or is used to girls staring.
I sniff. 'You don't look like the book type,' I say, seconds after. 'What are you looking for?'
I feel awkward when he gives me an unreadable stare before replying, 'Something distracting.'
'Me too,' I say. I add silently, And I have found you.
I pretend to resume searching for a book. 'I am Claire Benning. You?' Kelvins! He is smoking hot.
'Mason.'
'Mason what?'
'Mason With-no-last-name,' he replies curtly.
'Are you always rude to girls you just met?' I fire.
Mason rolls his eyes and prepares to move off. I snatch a book off the shelf and slap it to his chest. He offers me a questioning look as he automatically takes it.
'It's a great read. I've read it. Twice,' I say about the book. He scrutinizes every square inch of the spine and cover, and I scrutinize the mapping of his face. The library must be slippery because I'm falling in love.
He asks a curious question about the book, which I answer. Before we know it, we are having a conversation. We find an empty table away from other library users and continue to discuss the book.
Then we move on to many topics. I decide I'm completely in love, then he mentions my secret in a hushed tone. My jaw goes slack. But ordinary people can't connect a feverish temperature like mine to something as outlandish as lycanthropy. Except it's someone who knows about us.
Quickly, the shock leaks from my face. Or someone who is one of us. Something clicks about Mason. His beauty, his physique, his masculine elegance; it's all too strong and attractive not to be lycanthropy. He appears stronger than an alpha. A lycan?
I tell him my thoughts and elicit the first smile from him of our entire conversation. He doesn't deny it, the part about being a werewolf at least; but he says he is no lycan. But close.
'Claire, I find you fascinating,' he tells me near the end.
To that, I assume a disappointed visage. 'Is that all?'
He concedes a smile. 'How frank do you want me to be?'
'Please,' I make my eyes roll. 'As frank as you have ever been.'
'Then I shall admit that I love your body.'
I gasp.
Mason has tried to be covert with everything his eyes have rested upon, but my eyesight is just as keen as his, maybe even more. I can count the number of times an insect beats its wings in a second, so tracking the roving of Mason's eyes isn't difficult. His eyes have been taking big, healthy bites of me when he thinks he won't get caught. But to put it in such blunt, direct words... I feel my heart swell with hope.
How I ever assumed he was unpaired with a mate whilst been that good-looking is nothing but a rare show of naivety on my part.
I tell all about him to Alicia that night. We are flipping through fashion magazines on my bed, pouring out our deepest feelings and thoughts to each other, eating chicken and drinking soda.
Alicia's interest is piqued. She hits me with a hundred questions per minute. Then she asks me if he is without a lover or better, a mate.
'Oh dear,' she says, noticing the drop in my enthusiasm. 'You didn't ask, did you? Claire, last thing you want is a crazy mate hunting you.'
I shiver. If there are things werewolf instincts resonate with, they are anger, jealousy and revenge. I can't let Mason go, and we are not even in a relationship yet. A lover or mate would just go berserk.
I visit the library often after that in hopes that I might run into Mason. And I do. He is returning the book I recommended.
'How many times is the female lead werewolf reborn?' He asks abruptly.
'Err...six times?'
'Here, I was thinking it was five, and too much.' His voice is light and cheery. He is smiling warmly at me too. Butterflies rampage through my stomach but I just nuke them.
I shall be blunt. 'Do you have a mate or lover, Mason?'
His perfect lips form a perfect 'O' of surprise. He walks away, book searching, and I follow him. He glances at me as he says, 'I had a lover two years ago but lost her in a car accident.'
I arch an eyebrow.
'She was human, not a werewolf,' he explains.
I search his eyes for truth. Doesn't seem like he is lying. 'I'm sorry,' I offer finally. 'Was she driving or you?' The question is out of my mouth before I can stop it. It would make sense if he was.
His face hardens like concrete. 'Her ex.'
That hits me like a club. 'I'm sorry,' I say with more feeling than before, 'that must be very sickening.'
He shrugs like it's nothing, but pain is engraved in his eyes.
'Come here.' I open my arms. He takes the hug and we are in each other's arms. It feels too nice. 'You are hot. And I mean you have a higher-than-normal body temperature,' I tell him.
He chuckles and pulls away. For a piece of time, he stares into my face, taking slow, measured breaths. 'I can't help it. Don't mind if I do.'
'Wha—?' The question is stolen out of my mouth by a kiss, a long, deep, hungry one. Gently, he presses my back against a book shelf. No one is in our section but us. I give in to the kiss, then I'm giving more.
When the enchantment ends, we are exploring each other's eyes. His irises have turned a faint but detectable red, an obvious sign of passion. And I imagine mine are orange.
'Claire Benning, you have the most delicious pheromones ever to assault my senses,' he smiles.
I wolf down the compliment and we lock lips again.
Pheromones. Culprits of spontaneous werewolf passion. It is said that the human sense of olfaction doesn't rely primarily on pheromones; sexual arousal is mostly visual then tactile and auditory. But for werewolves, pheromones initiate a chain reaction, and it's often a positive feedback mechanism: more pheromones lead to more pheromones and more until...well, satisfaction is overachieved.
So the passion between Mason and I is quite the enchantment.
We talk for most of the afternoon, until evening is upon us. When we part, after a long stroll holding hands, I'm convinced I have met the one. We don't have to be mates before we can be crazy about each other. Two wolves can be lovers then mates. Dean and Vanessa are such a couple.
I sleep soundly that night. And yes, I dream of Mason. I dream we continue where we left off in the library.
It wasn't a full moon that noiseless night, so there was no irresistible desire to run with the pack and howl to a milky moon. But perhaps if I had joined the pack that night, Dean or Vanessa would have read my mind and told me what kind of person Mason is.
Mason and Dean have history together: they have been friends then enemies then friends over and over in past centuries. Mason's loyalty is not to love. It is to cold-hearted duty.
'Hi mom,' I greet the next morning. I even peck her cheek.
'Claire, are you all right?' She asks. Even I know I'm out of character today.
I whoop.
Alicia is late. I end up having to eat my bacon and eggs, and all the greens mom serves as salad. But nothing can make my happiness choke.
'What a beautiful day,' I sigh contentedly.
A rumble of thunder follows my words. The sky is pouring, and it seems it is letting out all the grievances it has held in for the past decade. Alicia pointedly glances out the window on her side. It is too foggy to see out well, despite our wolf eyes. And my infrared vision is handicapped. 'Yeah, it is a beautiful day. We can call it that,' Alicia says with exaggerated brightness.
The sarcasm causes me to look her way. We laugh together.
I ditch Alicia that afternoon to meet Mason in the woods. He isn't there yet. I walk alone through the faint paths, imagining what would happen today, what things we might say.
I get a sudden idea and return to the edge of the woods. There is a large oak tree there. I walk around it a few times to make my scent strong around the place, then I pull out my index finger and write on the bark of the tree with the claw.
You will have to catch me.
I have just enough time to conceal myself in the topmost branches of a tree when Mason arrives. He whistles when he comes upon my message. His chuckle booms through the woods. 'Playing hard to get, are we?' He bellows. Then he delves into the hunt.
Dean is many things, including a wonderful alpha and a good teacher. He spent years drilling into us many of the things he knows. I am grateful he taught me how to confuse a tracker. Mason spends minutes going in circles of confused trails. But he is good. And getting closer.
It is certain now that he isn't as good with infrared vision as I am, or he would have discovered me already.
My high heels are buckled to my belt at the back. I take a breath and sprint. A second later, Mason follows.
Daylight is waning and the trees make for an even darker place. Mason has the advantage of speed, but I have the advantage of eyesight. I may as well be running in the sun's full glare.
Miles pass under our feet. Then I slam into a mountain of muscle and bone. Mason holds me to his chest lest I try to run again.
'I caught you,' he says, making the forest shake with his laughter.
I nestle into him. 'Yeah, you caught me.' Locking my fingers behind his neck, I pull his head down for a kiss. The kiss goes out of hand. It's as though we want to break each other with the pressure of our embrace, or we want to swallow each other with the savagery of our kiss. Things get more intense when we add love bites to the frenzy.
Mason lifts me easily onto a low hanging tree branch. I wrap my legs around him, imprisoning him as I bend low from my seated position to have more kiss. I am considering ripping off our shirts—the only seemingly coherent thought I have managed in minutes—when acute pain rips through my chest.
Mason is still teasing my body with his hands, unaware. When the pain comes again, sharper than before, I unintentionally send him rolling across the rough forest floor like a bowling ball. Something is wrong. My body is burning, my heart is a nest of spears and I am angry for no reason. I feel the urge to break, the fury to—
Now that the sexual excitement distraction is gone, I hear the howl clearly.
Dean.
He is hurt and howling so bad, no member of the pack will be spared. My claws spring out and I automatically switch to infrared vision.
'Claire, what's wrong?' Mason inquires gently. His instincts tell him rightly that I'm dangerous. When Dean howls again, Mason hears it too. All the layers of pain, sorrow and sadness in it shuts him up.
Mason and I take a step together.
'Don't follow me, Mason. Please. This is none of your business,' I stop him. He doesn't argue.
I give him one final look of longing; his eyes are already deep red and mine are the yellow of flames; and shoot off through the underbrush. Darkness has fallen now and I can hear the nighttime insects come awake around me.
I have barely moved a yard away from Mason when I break the sonic barrier. But I do not stop at the speed of sound, I go faster, urged by Dean's howls. My body is no longer under my voluntary control, it is moving towards its alpha of its own accord.
But Dean is strong, strong enough for maybe two alphas. I wonder what personal injury could have sent him into such a weak, shattered state; and come up empty. Dean is that tough.
Then it clicks suddenly.
Vanessa.
Only Vanessa White can break through Dean's diamond hide.
But she would have to be gravely hurt.
I push myself faster or I'm going to be too late. It's like I'm suddenly flying.
The first teardrops fall unbidden. Oh no!