Chapter Five
“You Didn’t Run From Me Earlier”
The warm whiskey made its way down his throat, leaving a burning sensation in its wake. Bryon set his glass back onto the counter.
“Another, please,” he said to the bartender.
The squat man standing behind the counter turned away from the bottles he’d been rearranging and shot Bryon a look of genuine concern. His bushy eyebrows furrowed slightly.
“That’s the seventh refill you’ve asked for,” he replied. “You sure you’re okay, Sanders? You don’t usually drink so much.”
Bryon gave a wave of his hand. “Don’t you worry about me, Ed. I’m fine.”
The bartender didn’t look the least bit convinced, but he shrugged and gave Bryon a refill, anyway. With a sigh, Bryon lifted the glass to his face, staring into its contents.
“It’s trouble in paradise, isn’t it?” the man tried again. “She break your heart?”
At this, Bryon almost burst into laughter.
If only Rhoda were the real reason he’d come into this bar twenty minutes ago to drink his way through his thoughts.
Hell, maybe if he’d been in the house when she showed up late to last night’s party and had made his move, they’d be on their first date in this bar, laughing over cocktails.
But that wasn’t the case. No, he’d never made it back to the party last night. Not after Harold had seen him.
The memory came to him with a shudder: his best friend staring in shock and horror as he stood by the trees, part wolf, part man.
Bryon had shifted back to his human form as quickly as he could, but by then, it had been too late.
Before Harold could say a word, he’d grabbed his clothes and made a run for it, not once stopping until he’d made it back home.
Harold hadn’t called or texted since. Hadn’t come to check on him. That wasn’t a good sign. Not at all.
He downed half of the glass in one gulp, trying to calm his racing mind.
Maybe it wasn’t as bad as he feared. He and Harold had had a few drinks last night.
If he was lucky, his best friend wouldn’t remember ever seeing him in the process of shifting into a wolf.
Or at the very least, he’d figure it was some sort of dream.
Bryon poured the glass’s remaining contents down his throat and was about to ask the bartender for yet another refill when a new customer walked into the bar. Bryon glanced in the newcomer’s direction, and his entire body went rigid.
Crap.
Harold’s gaze swept the bar until it finally landed on him. His green eyes narrowed slightly, and he immediately made a beeline for the counter.
Bryon’s chest tightened. Damn. This wasn’t good. Not good at all.
Harold reached the counter, his gaze still on his friend. He remained on his feet, his hands trembling at his sides.
“Uh, hey, Harold,” Bryon said, trying to sound as casual as possible. “How’s it going? Haven’t, uh, haven’t heard from you since the party. Why don’t you take a seat?”
“I didn’t come here to sit down.” There was a quaver in Harold’s voice. “I came here because of last night.”
He did remember what he’d seen, after all. Bryon swallowed, feeling his throat constrict by the second. “Look, I don’t think this is the right time or place to talk about—”
“I think I’ll bring up whatever I damn well want to whenever and wherever I want to, Bryon. I saw you last night. I saw you changed into...into whatever that thing was.”
He shuddered as though the mere thought of it was revolting.
Panic already fluttering in his belly, Bryon swept his gaze around the bar.
A couple of people were already glancing in their direction.
Even Ed, the bartender, was absently wiping a glass with a rag, evidently interested in their conversation.
Definitely not good. The last thing he needed was to discuss last night, of all things, in this bar with all these people around. Bryon rose slowly to his feet, reaching for his friend’s arm. “Why don’t we take this outside, and—?”
“Don’t you dare touch me.” Harold yanked his arm out of reach. “You goddamn freak of nature.”
His words were like blades, cutting into Bryon’s heart with a suddenness. Bryon took a respectful step backward, holding up both hands.
“Okay,” he said. “But I can explain. What you saw last night... it’s not really what you think.”
The other man scoffed. “What, so I’m blind now? Or you think I’m an idiot? I saw you transform, Bryon. What kind of monster are you? You... you’re some kind of werewolf.”
More heads were turning in their direction. Bryon tried to laugh, shaking his head. “Maybe you had a little more to drink last night than you thought.”
“I know what I saw. I wasn’t drunk, and I wasn’t imagining things. You’re not a human. You... you’re something else.”
A look of pure revulsion came over his face. Bryon’s heart throbbed painfully in his chest. He and Harold had been best friends for years, and now the man was looking at him with barely a hint of recognition in those green eyes.
“You’re an abomination,” Harold went on. “Whatever you are, you shouldn’t exist.”
“Harold—”
“I know what I saw!”
The entire bar had gone silent. Everyone was staring now. Bryon stared at his friend, speechless. Now, more than ever, he needed another drink. Hell, he needed the whole bottle.
Instead, he pushed past Harold, heading straight for the exit amid murmurs and gasps.
“You’re an abomination, Bryon Sanders!” he heard Harold call after him. “And I’m going to make sure everyone else knows it.”
***
“A shifter is someone who can shift into animals,” he was saying. “Someone like me. Some of us can turn into wolves, some into bears, some into dragons or lions, and so on.”
Miranda almost pointed out that he’d just said dragons, but then again, that wasn’t much stranger than everything else he was telling her, if she was being honest. She sat up a little straighter, staring almost unblinkingly at Bryon as he went on.
“I’m not a werewolf,” he said. “Well, not exactly. I just can turn into a wolf.”
She nodded, not once tearing her gaze from him.
So far, she’d learned a couple of things from him.
The first was that the supernatural, everything she’d figured was merely fantasy, was pretty much real.
The second was that supernaturals lived among humans—witches, vampires, goblins, fairies, and many more.
That part had sent a tiny chill down her spine.
To be more specific, it felt a little like her world was falling apart and being put back together in a matter of moments. The world, as she knew it, was much, much different. Much bigger.
Much more dangerous.
She decided to ask the next question burning in her mind. “How long have you been a shifter?”
Bryon suddenly looked like he was trying not to laugh.
“What?” she wanted to know. “Did I say something wrong?”
“Well...” His brown eyes twinkled, and for a brief moment, she felt her heart stutter. “Not exactly. People don’t just become shifters at some point in their lives. We’re born this way, although some of us might take longer to manifest our abilities.”
“Oh. I see now.” Honestly, it was a lot to take in.
Despite everything she already knew to be true, a part of her wondered whether there wasn’t a chance that he was simply messing with her, that she’d never even really seen him shift, that the whole thing had been a dream or a hallucination.
It seemed much easier than accepting that it was real.
Another question popped into her head then.
She turned to look at him, gazing for a moment too long at his parted lips before focusing on his eyes.
A gentle flutter filled her belly, and warmth trickled down through her stomach.
She cleared her throat, trying to ignore the sudden throb between her thighs, and decided to make her inquiry.
“How come you trust me enough to tell me all this?” she asked.
There it was again, that look like he was holding back a laugh. It was starting to irk her, but at the same time, she found his amusement somewhat attractive.
“Well, that’s the thing: I don’t.”
She blinked. “Oh.”
“I don’t really trust you. Part of me is convinced you’ll out me to whoever you can the second we’re both out of these woods.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because, Miranda,” he said with a sigh, “you’re human. And humans... well, you tend to react poorly when it comes to supernaturals.”
When he put it that way, she couldn’t exactly deny it. She’d stood frozen for minutes after she saw him shift from a wolf into a man. And even after that, she’d been wary of him. She still was.
“I guess you’re right about that.”
“I am right about it. You tend to flee or become violent when faced with what you consider to be the unknown.”
She definitely couldn’t argue his point. “I guess I’m more of the fleeing type. I’m more likely to take to my heels. I ran when Jerry showed up at my front door because it was the only thing that made sense.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You didn’t run from me earlier.”
Right, but that was only because she’d been too paralyzed with terror to turn around and run for her life. “Well... I just couldn’t really bring myself to.”
Bryon’s lips twitched, and he straightened against the tree trunk. In the process, the bathrobe opened a little, affording her a rather generous glimpse of his torso. A thin sheen of sweat traveled down his chest all the way down to his abs.
Miranda swallowed immediately, feeling another throb between her thighs. She sucked in a deep breath, wondering how come the woods had gotten so warm all of a sudden. Also... was it just her, or had Bryon somehow gotten closer? She could’ve sworn there’d been more space between them a minute ago.
The air was definitely getting warmer. Bryon’s brown eyes were locked on hers. A few strands of hair fell across her face, and her breath momentarily froze in her throat as he reached up to brush them aside. His knuckles grazed her cheek.
Miranda’s heart drummed unsteadily in her ribcage.
Her gaze flicked from his eyes to his lips and back, undecided on her object of focus.
She thought she could hear a creature skittering across the forest floor, but it sounded distant.
The rest of her world was slowly beginning to fade away, leaving Bryon at the center of her attention.
“I’m glad you didn’t run away,” he said, his lips finally curving into a smile.
And the next thing she knew, those lips were on hers.