The Wolf’s Whisper: The Complete Series

1. Emily

I lit up my phone screen for the fiftieth time in twenty minutes, but I couldn’t help it. My friends were late and I was freezing my ass off. Even though I was wearing a thick jumper, it wasn’t enough against the biting cold, and my legs were relatively bare, at least by my standards.

I knew the club wouldn’t let me in with jeans, which was my go-to, especially during the winter, so I was wearing thick leggings and heeled boots. I didn’t own many fancy shoes, mostly because I preferred comfort, but I was grateful the ones I did were relatively warm. I couldn't imagine standing around with my toes out in such cold weather. It felt like a possible frostbite risk.

Another quick scan of the street told me my friends weren’t close, and I resisted the urge to curse out loud. I already felt like there were far too many eyes on me. Randomly swearing like a crazy person wasn’t going to help.

I knew that practically speaking, most people around me were too busy living their own lives to be staring at my less-than-glamorous outfit or the battered excuse for a satchel I had hooked over one shoulder. Still, I felt like a fish out of water. I’d meant to be a little more dressed up for the club, even if it was one I wasn’t familiar with. I’d gotten carried away at the Research Center, however, and had run out of time to raid my entire closet. Not that I had a lot of options, but I knew fuzzy sweaters weren’t exactly ideal club wear.

Then again, I had no idea what I was talking about. I’d never even been to BLX Club before, so maybe what I was wearing was right up their alley.

Maybe pigs flew, too.

I was getting antsier by the minute, so I took my glasses off and cleaned them with my oversized sleeve. I should’ve changed into contacts so my glasses didn’t smudge the makeup I’d hurriedly applied, but I hated wearing lenses in the cold. I’d been standing outside for half an hour, and I was sure I’d made the right choice. My vision was a blurry mess without them, so they were a necessity.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d managed to occupy myself by simply cleaning my glasses—the things always seem to magically become dirty again somehow. I could play a couple of mobile games for a few minutes, but it was getting harder with how cold my hands were, and I wanted to preserve my battery. Every young woman knew her phone was her lifeline in case something bad happened while out on the town.

“Come on, guys, where the hell are you?” I muttered, my temper flaring.

I waited a bit longer before my patience finally wore out and my teeth began chattering. Lighting up my phone again, I drafted a message to my friend, Jessica.

Hey guys, at the club. Are you on your way?

But before I could send it, a taxi pulled up on the other side of the street. I paused, hoping it could somehow be my friends. That’d be way too fortunate, but not impossible.

“Hey, you!”

I heaved a sigh of relief. I knew that voice. It was Lisbeta, a friend I’d had for ages. Finally, about half an hour later than they promised, the girls had arrived.

I tried not to be annoyed, but I was. If they’d told me they were running late, I could’ve spent more time in my room, carefully picking out my outfit instead of rooting through everything in a whirling dervish. Should I have prepared my outfit the day before? Sure. But between my classes and my assignments, I was so overwhelmed that I constantly felt like I was four steps behind. That wasn’t exactly conducive to putting together something stylish on the fly.

“You’re here early!” Lisbeta exclaimed.

No. No, I wasn’t.

I just laughed, even though I really wanted to tell them that they were late. But I felt my anger burning out and vanishing into the ether once the girls stepped out of the taxi and hurried over to me. The important thing was they were here.

Oh, and they weren’t alone. A girl I didn’t recognize exited the cab with them. She was in one of my classes, but before I could try to remember her name, I was surprised as another taxi pulled up and dumped out four more people from our college.

I now found myself in a bigger group than I’d expected, including Jessica, Lisbeta, and Bella, plus a few girls and boys from our campus I may or may not have met before. I wasn’t always the best with names, but I liked to think I was rather good with faces. The fact that I couldn’t discern them was a testament to how tired I was.

Maybe coming out was a mistake.

It was too late now, so I forced a smile on my face as I greeted my friends. I didn’t miss how a couple of people glanced quickly at my outfit, but I forced that thought away. Sometimes it was hard to tell when people were actually judging my appearance and if it was my own paranoia reinforced from years of being bullied for my looks. I was all too familiar with how cruel people could be, and though I’d gone through a lot of unhealthy steps to become more socially acceptable, part of me was always scared of that same viciousness coming back.

“Hello, everyone,” I said brightly, giving them a little wave after greeting my friends.

Thankfully, no one had a look of disgust on their face; otherwise, what little confidence I had would’ve shattered. I hated that I was so influenced by what the people around me thought, but it was something I was working on. Growing up as a chubby child and then a fat teen had exposed me to all sorts of mistreatment.

There were a few friendly replies before Lisbeta did actual introductions. “Hey, everyone, this is Emily. You’ve all heard about her. Emily, this is Jason, Nate, Michelle, Stacy, and Jenny.”

My brain valiantly tried to store that information away, but I knew I was too tired and too burnt out from school to save any of it. The people in front of me would likely be vague recollections as soon as dawn hit, or whenever I actually got to fall into bed.

“Nice to meet you all!” I chirped. “It’s been so crazy this semester at college, I feel like I don’t even know who’s in any of my classes anymore, so it’s nice to get some downtime with you.”

A few agreed, but my paranoia told me I was just being tolerated, that I was making a fool of myself. That feeling only amplified when Lisbeta turned back to me with an expectant look.

“So, are you going to change out of that before we get in line?”

I just looked at her blankly. “Change out of what?”

She laughed like I was being hilarious, and my stomach was starting to get that sinking feeling I got every so often when I realized that I was doing something wrong, but I had no idea what.

“Your leggings, silly! It’s so smart that you wore them out here since it’s cold, but I don’t mind waiting while you pull them off for the club.”

Did she think I was wearing a sweater dress ? Was that even in style anymore?

Nausea and nerves both bloomed inside me, vying for the most attention. I wasn’t exactly the most confident about my body as it was, and my legs and butt were just a few things I was self-conscious about. I did try to cover up quite often, so I couldn’t even remember the last time I wore bare legs in public.

I tried to rapidly come up with some excuse, but one of the girls—Michelle, maybe—excitedly clapped her hands.

“Girl, you are so clever for doing that. I always end up turning into a popsicle waiting outside the club. Here, let’s go over to the wall, and I’ll use my trench coat as a cover so you can change out of the leggings.”

Well, now I really couldn’t refuse without looking like an idiot. I nodded and tried to recover the facade of a somewhat normal young woman.

Feeling more than corralled, I did as the girl suggested, hidden only by her coat as I tried to shimmy my leggings off modestly. However, I had a realization when I got them to about my ankles: they weren’t going to make it off over my shoes, which meant I had to unzip my boots, stand in my socks on the freezing ground, kick the leggings the rest of the way off, and put my shoes back on.

It wasn’t a big deal, which I knew logically, but the anxious part of my brain insisted that I looked like a fucking idiot, a real moron. I hurriedly tucked my discarded leggings into my satchel, then struggled to put one shoe back on, then the other, with fingers so cold, I could barely feel them.

God, it really was so much worse without my leggings. Who knew that they’d been such a barrier against the cold?

“There you go! Looking good!” Well, at least Michelle was being sweet about it. I’d long learned long ago that people were perfectly capable of smiling while also making fun of me, so I took compliments well, especially if they seemed remotely genuine.

Michelle lowered her coat, and I stepped back into our gaggle of friends—though this was a rather generous term, given that I didn’t know most of them. To my surprise, their response was positive, with a couple of thumbs-up and even a wolf whistle from one of the boys.

I appreciated the positive reinforcement, I did, but I was still all too aware of how short my sweater was. It went from feeling cute and oversized to worthy of a public indecency charge. I felt like I was practically naked.

The logical part of my mind knew I wasn’t, but sometimes it didn’t matter. The little voice in the back of my head still said I was too big. Too ugly. Too stupid.

I’d fought hard for a long time to like any part of myself, and it’d taken a lot of introspection and self-talk. I liked to think I’d come a long way. Every now and then, though, situations came where I felt like I’d been knocked back into that same mental state little Emily had struggled to get out of.

I hated it. I hated it so much, but I couldn’t freak out. Instead, I slapped a smile on my face and pretended the attention I was getting from the two guys in our group wasn’t making me uncomfortable.

God, I really was pathetic, wasn’t I? A twenty-one-year-old woman—about to be twenty-two—who couldn’t dress for the club, throwing herself into an anxiety attack over people being nice to her. I needed to calm down and get out of my head. I could have fun if I didn’t spiral into the cesspool of self-hating thoughts taking over my head.

I needed to buy myself some time and breathe. That was all.

“Let’s get in line, shall we?” I suggested. “I’ve been here for ages, so it’s moving pretty fast, but the sooner we’re inside, the better.”

“Amen to that!” Jessica agreed, her speech loose enough to make me wonder if she’d pre-gamed before they arrived. It would certainly explain why they were late.

All of us hurried into the line, and we managed to pass through it relatively quickly. For the briefest of moments, I found myself wishing the bouncer would turn me away so I could go home and it wouldn’t be my fault. Still, that’d be mortifying, so I banished that thought, along with any others trying to ruin my night. I was determined to have a good time.

I’d been working so hard, and school was kicking my ass. I deserved to relax and have a good time, especially with my friends. Like most young adults, I was finding that the older I got, the harder it was to be available for anyone, really.

Including myself.

Sometimes it overwhelmed me when I thought about the rest of my life not being that different from my college experience: always having to grind and try to maximize every day to be as productive as possible. It was draining, it really was, and with the rising cost of living, combined with stagnating wages, it was like walking into quicksand with no way out.

Occasionally, when I let my mind wander too much, I felt I wasn’t cut out for this world. That I was meant for a slower time period, one where meals were enjoyed with family and friends. Where it wasn’t unheard of to just look up at the night sky, or run through a meadow on a crisp spring day.

Granted, I certainly enjoyed the finer parts of living in the modern era. The internet was pretty great, as was having access to medicine. Too bad about the insurance mess in America, though.

Not exactly thoughts conducive to an amazing night out. I should’ve refused to join my friends, been upfront about how crushed I felt under my school schedule, but I’d already missed our outing the week before, and the week before that. I knew there were only so many times I could tag out before I’d be forgotten entirely. I knew that high school and college friends weren’t really meant to last, yet the idea of being forgotten by what few friends I had made me feel physically ill.

So, perhaps it wasn’t exactly surprising that once we all went to the bar to order shots, I got a double, and then another one. It was money I really shouldn’t be spending, but I needed something to soothe the edge in me. At the moment, it felt sharper than a knife.

As I downed the second shot, I told myself I could have diet soft drinks or water the rest of the night, and I’d be fine. I needed a buffer to recover from the leggings incident and standing outside for half an hour, stuck with nothing but my thoughts.

“Well, well, looks like someone’s ambitious!” Bella cooed as I slammed my second shot glass back onto the bar.

“Are you sure you shouldn’t take it easy?” That was Jessica, who sounded genuinely concerned, and I couldn’t help but warm at the worry in her voice. “Didn’t you have a bad fever just last week?” she asked. “I know you said you were feeling better, but you don’t want to push things too much.”

It was hard not to inwardly preen at being shown even basic affection. That always did wonders for quieting that paranoid voice within me that insisted everyone hated me and I was a burden. “I’ll be fine!” I said cheerfully. “I wanna have some fun, you know? School has been suffocating.”

“I hear that,” one of the boys said. Jason, maybe? “I think I’m averaging less than four hours of sleep a night. It’s so bad for us, but what choice do we have?”

What choice, indeed? I watched as he ordered some dark beer. I’d never been much of a heavy drinker, but I knew I wasn’t a fan of what I liked to call “wheat soda.” It always made my stomach bubble, and I felt bloated after. It reminded me too much of cola, which I’d cut out of my diet completely when I turned sixteen. I missed it from time to time, but mostly for the taste. I’d found soon after I’d stopped that carbonation was doing a real number on my stomach.

“Hey,” I said, trying to sound light and effortless. “What are we all standing around for? Let’s dance!”

There was a chorus of agreement. Jason stayed back to nurse his drink while Jenny went to the bathroom, but that was fine. I was sure they’d be joining us soon enough. Together, our little cluster occupied the dance floor, the high-key club music throbbing through my body. I was by no means an excellent dancer, yet it was nice to close my eyes and move along to the beat. To let my mind shut off and my body feel.

It didn’t take more than a song or two before I felt the effects of the alcohol. It started light at first, the crushing weight of my thoughts lifting a little, but the more I danced, the more that feeling increased. Half an hour later, my head pulsed, and all the stomach flips from before turned into full-on gymnastics.

Uh-oh.

I felt myself locked in an internal debate on whether I should sit down and rest, run to the bathroom, or keep dancing until I got drunker and forgot everything my body was feeling. There seemed to be merit to all three options, but my brain was having trouble sorting out the reasons.

Or at least it was until someone grabbed my ass.

The sound I made as I jumped was downright embarrassing, and I whirled around to see three young men nearby wearing either friendly or flirtatious smiles. It was hard to tell in the dim lighting of the club, with the neon stage lights occasionally flashing across the crowd.

I was well aware that I was inebriated, but the men looked harmless enough. I wondered if I’d only imagined the feeling of a hand gripping my cheeks. It really felt like they’d reached under my sweater and touched my actual underwear. Surely not, though, right? People didn’t just do things like that, did they?

Deciding to leave it be, I turned back to my friends and realized they’d gotten away from me. Not exactly surprising—my short height made it easy for me to get lost in a crowd. I wiggled my way back to them and kept dancing.

That is, until I felt hands on my waist and a presence behind me. I closed my eyes again, wondering if I should ignore it, right up until I felt a mouth near my neck. Not quite touching me, but close enough that I was acutely aware every time it exhaled.

I came face to face with one of the guys and put on a polite “no thank you” smile. “Hey, I’m here with my friends, okay?”

The guy looked annoyed, but didn’t fight me on it. Instead, he made his way back into the fray of the dance floor, making me wonder if that was an entirely normal interaction or if it was because I was wearing such a short “dress.”

I tugged at the hem, worrying that I was showing a lot more than I wanted to. Although an outfit was never an invitation, I still worried about being too accessible for people who’d take advantage.

I tried to return to my dancing, but as the minutes ticked on, I felt worse and worse. My head was pounding, I was dizzy, and my nausea had increased. Was my fever coming back? I really thought I was past that.

The reality was that I couldn’t afford to get sick. I’d allowed myself to miss a single day of school and cut off all extracurricular activities for a week, and I was still catching up. If I missed any more time, I’d be buried so deep that there was no getting out.

Then I felt a hand rove up my side, and I nearly jumped out of my skin, falling into Lisbeta as I faced the handsy stranger again.

“What the fuck?” she snapped, clearly irritated, and for a moment, I was terrified I’d knocked a drink onto her outfit. Lisbeta’s clothes were far more expensive than I could ever hope to afford, and I knew she’d insist on me paying for the dry cleaning if I got vodka cranberry all down her front.

I sputtered as I tried to explain. “This guy tried to feel me up!”

“A hot guy feeling you up should be taken as a compliment. Come on, we’re in college! Live a little!”

I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, but it wasn’t for Lisbeta to dismiss me. I must’ve stared at her for several seconds, my head spinning and my stomach heaving, before I heard a tone in my voice I rarely used with my circle of girlfriends. It was sharp and full of steel.

“It’s not a compliment if it makes me feel fucking uncomfortable! I don’t live and die by the attention of men, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Lisbeta’s eyes went wide for a moment, and I knew why. It was rare that I talked back to my friends, especially so forcefully, but I was tired, I was nauseous, and I was done with the situation. I’d wanted to dance and have a good time, but I was in the club in a shirt masquerading as a dress, my head pounding, my stomach dancing along to its own raucous rhythm. That combination made me a lot less amenable than normal.

Once Lisbeta got over her initial shock, she rolled her eyes and went back to dancing like I hadn’t said anything at all. I thought for a moment that was that, but of course it wasn’t.

“Maybe you wouldn’t be so uncomfortable around the opposite sex if you didn’t act so uptight with your boyfriend and actually enjoyed yourself for once,” she sneered. “Given how patient he is, Gavin is a saint.”

At that, my cheeks flushed redder than they already were from the alcohol, embarrassment burning through every part of me. I knew no one outside our circle could possibly hear us, yet it felt like the entire club was now aware of my private life.

That was what toppled me over the edge. I was done. I turned to find a place to sit.

I barely took a step before someone grabbed my arm. I actually snarled, surprising myself. I was sure it was another random guy manhandling me. However, when I twisted around, I saw it was Lisbeta, her expression contrite.

“I’m sorry, that was really shitty,” she said. “I just hate seeing you so bound up in anxiety all the time. I wish you could relax and enjoy all the things that are normal for young people. It’s not wrong to experiment, but you shouldn’t if you’re not comfortable, and I respect that. Gavin is a great guy, you know? I’m sure he respects it, too.”

My mouth opened and closed, my drunken mind surprised by the seemingly earnest apology. It wasn’t that Lisbeta never apologized; it was merely a rare occurrence. It meant a lot that she’d swallow her pride for me, especially since she could’ve waited until morning.

“Hey, did I hear my name?”

I knew that voice, and somehow, against all odds, I faced forward again to see Gavin a foot in front of me, smiling that slight gap-toothed smile that brought me so much comfort. But my relief was twofold. I was certainly happy to see him, and I also knew that with my boyfriend around, guys were much less likely to try anything, no matter how short my dress was. It sucked that my own personhood wasn’t enough, but I was more than happy to use Gavin as my shield, and I knew he wouldn’t mind, either.

“Gavin!” I exclaimed, practically throwing myself into his arms as he caught me, chuckling lightly. It was a sound I didn’t get to hear nearly as often as I’d like. School was kicking his ass, too. I wished that both of us were far less stressed from our academics, but that was what came with being scholarship kids, I supposed.

Well, I was on a scholarship. Gavin was a kid whose father wrote scholarship checks. Naturally, Gavin was expected to hold himself to some truly insane academic standards.

“Good to see you, too, chickadee. I was certain you’d back out.”

“No. You’re stuck with me!”

“Is that so?” One of his eyebrows went up, and his smile grew even bigger. Goodness, when was the last time that Gavin and I were able to be silly around each other? Everything seemed so serious and weighty lately, like there wasn’t enough time for joy or validity. Only study, study, study, then try to keep up with chores.

“Oh, that is soooo so,” I teased.

“Well, in that case, if I’m truly stuck with you, let’s dance.”

“A capital idea!” I said, donning a cheesy British accent. It wasn’t exactly accurate, but it made him laugh, and that was what mattered.

I relaxed into Gavin’s hold as we “danced,” which was mostly a lot of swaying and a slight bit of gyrating. But as much as I loved the contact after we’d been so busy for so long, the longer I stayed close to him, the more aware I became of his heavy cologne.

Normally, I liked the scent, all woodsy and full of pine, but now it was so strong that it was making my eyes water and my headache much worse, which absolutely sucked. I liked being close to my boyfriend. I liked being able to close my eyes and shut out the rest of the world, leaving only me and him on the dance floor. Being held by him always calmed my raging anxiety, telling me that as scary as the outside world got, I’d always have a safe haven.

Until his hands dropped lower.

At first, I liked where they’d rested on my lower back, rubbing little circles into the tense muscles there. I constantly reminded myself to sit up when I studied, but I often ended up like a shrimp hunched over whatever surface I was sitting in front of. Not exactly great for my back, so I enjoyed the gentle pressure there.

But then his fingers toyed with the bottom hem of my dress, and alarm went through me. I jerked my head upward, looking up at his face in surprise. Did he know what he was doing?

Oh, he most certainly did. I could tell by the cheeky smirk he sent me back.

“Something wrong?” he asked, voice barely audible over the thumping music. Had the club gotten even louder? It was making me so incredibly dizzy. God, I needed a gallon of Excedrin.

“My dress is too short for you to be doing that,” I tried to say playfully, like it was no big deal, but every movement of the hem made me worry that I was flashing the people around us. I knew that wouldn’t matter to some, but it did to me. I was extremely particular about who could feel up my bare thighs, and the majority of the club wasn’t on that list.

Then Gavin’s gaze slid down my body in a way that made me feel far more gorgeous than I actually was. “Hmm, it is pretty short, isn’t it?” he mused.

I flushed yet again, but for a vastly different reason than the first few times tonight—and a much more welcome one. Desire sat low in my belly as he leaned down to press a kiss to the side of my neck. For a moment, I felt wonderful.

But then, of course, my nausea reasserted itself, reminding me I had a lot to be concerned about.

Shit.

My breathing picked up, and it was like I was thrust into total overstimulation. I felt like I could smell a hundred different perfumes all around me, and they were all cloyingly artificial, making my head spin. It felt like I could taste them, too. They were acrid on my tongue and in my throat.

It was all too much, and I found myself wiggling out of Gavin’s hold. “I think I need a couple of minutes outside,” I said.

My eyes made their way to Gavin’s face, and I could see that he was both concerned and annoyed. I felt bad, I did, but if I didn’t get out into fresh air, I was worried I would spew everywhere.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Definitely not.”

“Alright, let’s get you out of here.”

Gavin’s firm grip landed on my shoulders, and I found myself being steered out of the club as he looked back to our friends. “Hey, we’ll be right back!” he called to them. “Just need a breather!”

Gavin didn’t stop until I was safely outside the doors.

Holy shit!

The cold slammed into me like an actual physical force. I was nearly knocked over, and try as Gavin might to catch me in time, I bent forward and finally lost the contents of my stomach. Ew. It was about as unpleasant as I’d expected, and I wanted to be safe at home in my pajamas.

“Whoa, how much did you have to drink, babe?” Gavin asked, somewhere between worried and amused.

“Only like... two shots!” I blurted it out, even though that wasn’t exactly true.

Gavin chided me like I was a baby. “Did you even eat dinner?”

I paused. “Maybe.”

“Uh-huh. You know that having alcohol on an empty stomach, especially when you’re recovering from illness, isn’t a good idea.”

My nausea was subsiding, but his tone wasn’t exactly doing wonders for my mood. Occasionally, Gavin would go on long, long lectures where he would insist that he knew best. He did, most of the time, but I was so not in the mood for it.

At least he was gentle as he brushed my hair back with his fingers and helped me straighten up. “Are you alright, chickadee?”

I wanted to be the cool girlfriend, to go back into the club like nothing was wrong and I was totally normal. I couldn’t, though. Despite spending my childhood hiding, I’d never really developed the ability not to be myself.

“I think I need to go home,” I said miserably, feeling like a failure.

“What?” he said blankly. “But you just got here. And you look so great, you know?”

“I’m sorry, babe,” I said. “I don’t feel good.”

“Babe, you can’t disappear so soon when I didn’t get to see you last week at all!”

Our eyes locked at that, and at least Gavin had the good sense to look abashed by his words. I’d kept away for his own good, given my fever. It was one thing to roam the halls while I was masked up. It was another entirely to cuddle and eat around each other until I infected him.

“Sorry, that was selfish,” he said. “I miss you, and I wanna spend time with you, you know? Things are only going to get worse when midterms hit.”

They most certainly were. Still, if he really did enjoy being with me, he could have lunch with me occasionally when I wasn’t burning up with a fever. The only time he ever wanted to see me was after dark. Then again, I knew that was often the plight of college students. We were young, so nightlife was supposed to be our thing.

Too bad it never really felt like much fun for me. Maybe I was just boring.

“You know what, let me call the family car,” he said. “I’ll have you taken back to your place.”

“No, no, that’s fine,” I stammered. “I can get an Uber.”

“No,” he countered. “It’ll only take a call, and I know money’s tight, anyway.”

With that, he pulled out his phone, and although I wanted to go home, things felt like they were going too fast and I was possibly making the wrong decision. It was hard to think with how much my head was pounding, a relentless gong knocking in my brain.

“Wait! I left my satchel in the coat check.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it for you. I’ll be back lickety-split!”

He left, and I was completely alone now. I was now acutely aware of how vulnerable I was as an inebriated woman by herself in the middle of the night.

And it was cold. So incredibly cold.

I pulled at the hem of my sweater as I fidgeted, covering as much of myself against the elements as possible. I wondered if the garment would ever regain its natural shape or have strange dips in the hem forever. At least it was cheap.

As much as I tried to keep my thoughts on that to distract myself, my mind kept going back to the stupid bug I’d caught. Hopefully, if I got some real sleep, it’d go away.

I couldn’t afford to lose any more time.