I walked to the door as fast as my jittery, yet strong and determined, legs could carry me. After throwing open the door, he stood at my threshold like a deer in headlights. He looked at me briefly, but then past me as if my living room were filled with some beast that would attack him. The idea of it brought yet another smile to my face.
With a light voice, I beckoned him, “Please come in. I won’t bite. Well, at least not until you ask me to nicely.”
My laugh, though obviously a smidge nervous still, brought a smirk to his face as well. Back in simple jeans and a t-shirt, he stepped into my apartment. I closed the door a little too hard once I’d gotten him inside. He looked back at the door, and then back at me. A sly expression raised his eyebrows, and widened and brightened those dark eyes of his.
“Plan on keeping me here, do you? Don’t think I can escape, manage a closed door?”
I answered by making a show of turning the lock fast so that it clicked with a bold thud into place.
“I deserve some more answers if nothing else,” I said as I grabbed his hand and led him to my couch.
“I guess you do. Ask me anything. No point in holding anything back now,” he said as his hands moved in jerky motions on his lap, as if he couldn’t decide what to do with them.
I had a few ideas, but first, I needed some answers. I placed one of my hands on one of his, and drew it to my leg regardless. I wanted to talk. Didn’t mean we couldn’t also touch in the meantime. I’d have curled up on his lap, secure in his arms, if given the choice.
“Probably not a good idea,” he mumbled. “I seem to so easily lose my determination to follow the rules where you are concerned. Just the briefest touch sends me over the edge. I have to get some control over myself.”
Though the words stung to some degree, I let myself relax in this moment of having him here to at least question. I brought back that confidence I’d miraculously found in the car. I squeezed harder when he tried to take his hand back. With a steely look on my face, he met my eyes and nodded his consent. Giving his hand a light pat in thanks, I went back to holding onto it tightly.
“You let me hold your hand, or I jump in your lap to have this chat,” I threatened, trying to deepen my voice as much as I could for a sultry effect.
“Well, you wouldn’t get any answers then, I can tell you that. That body of yours, it does things to me, unexplainable things,” he said with a shake of his head.
I let him look me up and down. I swear just the power of his look made me feel touched.
“What’s on that amazing mind of yours?” he urged, though the tilt of his head told me his mind was still on my body.
This knowledge only encouraged me. Gaining a shred of myself back, I decided to live in this moment, to luxuriate in the easy pace of my breath, the steady though a bit accelerated beat of my heart. My muscles relaxed even as my skin tingled where his hand touched my thigh. I swore I felt more than just a simple touch, even as the sensation grew weighted with emotions. My skin practically buzzed.
“I can explain that, too, that feeling. You are not imagining it. It is part of that magic I spoke of. Anyway, I’m sure that isn’t foremost on your mind. Ask your most burning question. Fire away,” he urged.
“Okay,” I said with a shake of my head, as if I could work out my thoughts that way, get back to the question that lingered most given the short amount of time I’d had to think on all he’d had said in the alley as I drove home.
“First, I want to know, why the protection? I mean, I get that we are to live long lives, but is there something that could more easily shorten them other than just life’s accidents? The way you said it, the inflection in your voice, the seriousness of it, made me wonder if there was some other enemy out there waiting to harm me. A group made to protect is usually only formed due to a viable threat.”
“You are too smart for your own good. You are sadly right, though. There is something more, well someone actually, a whole blasted group of them to be exact, that does wish you harm. There’s a group of other wolves. Original werewolves, that is. They were born with an affliction rather than spelled into a gift. Or at least, that is what they have said. While ruled by the moon, forced to turn each time its light fills the sky, they also have the power to turn at will, but it has to be motivated by anger. It’s a protection thing. They turn much more violently than my kind does, a more traumatic physical event. Basically, they resent us for that among other things.