Chapter 23 My Pimp
My Pimp
ELI
I've never been vulnerable with a woman before, I wanted to try, I wanted to try with her, so I’ve also never been rejected so harshly. She has secrets, and I’m not a trustworthy person to share them with.
I make a note for my stupid therapist.
Is it the anger?
Is it the rage at not finding my mate but wanting her instead?
Or is it the beginnings of a heartbreak that hasn’t even started so really, how could it fucking possibly end?
I'm embarrassed I asked if I’m being honest.
I slide her down the tile wall, her eyes are distant, I almost kiss her, but I know she doesn’t want it.
“
"I…” My voice is hoarse, my fangs dripping to cut into her skin.
“I agree to your terms.”
She smirks.
“Kind of makes you my pimp, right?”
I slam my hands on either side of her head, making her jump and growl low in my throat.
“A pimp shares his girls, I will not share you or no deal. It’s only me. Me!”
I pound my right fist next to the wall and realize too late that I’ve actually put a hole through the expensive tile.
Her lower lip wobbles.
"And what if I find my forever?”
"What if your forever is already here?”
Her smile’s sad.
“I think you and I both know that’s not possible. You already set the rules, remember?”
I’m an idiot.
“How could I ever forget calling you a prostitute for wanting money for sex?”
Tears fill her eyes, but she still meets my gaze.
“May I be excused now, sir? Or are you not satisfied enough with my performance?”
It cuts deep and still it’s my fault for taking it this way, for making it this way. I jerk away from her and growl again.
“Be at the office in an hour. And make my latte decaf.”
She snorts and shoves by me.
“Right, because the last thing we need is a werewolf on a caffeine trip, throwing desks everywhere, people, pencils..”
"I can hear you!”
She grabs a towel and wraps it around her body.
“You were meant to, asshole.”
Ava walks toward the door, then looks over her shoulder and raises her middle finger.
“You’re welcome, by the way, for saving your life.”
I snort out a laugh.
“Yeah okay, you’re welcome, by the way, for rocking your world!”
Idiot. Someone run me over with my car immediately before I lay down in oncoming traffic.
She presses her lips together like she’s trying not to laugh.
“Laugh and I swear I’ll fire you and throw you out into the streets.”
Her one eyebrow crooks up, she opens her towel and shows me her perfect tit.
“Yeah, I don’t think so, PIMP!”
She runs out of the bathroom.
I know I’m in over my head when my apartment feels empty again, when I feel alone and sad, when I almost prefer the pain of the full moon, over the loss of her presence.
· · ·
The rest of the day is pure hell, do I need to actually pin her against the wall with my dick? No. No, I do not. The moon isn’t even up yet.
Do I want to? Absolutely, yes. The fantasies going through my head are not work appropriate or even human appropriate.
I’m on edge, grumpy as she would say, and I have to go to therapy in a few minutes.
I'm close to banging my head against my own table when Gabe walks in, sniffs the air, takes a look at me, and says, “Well, someone had a good night last night, did you want to share details during the board meeting, I think it might scandalize Jim, remember last Christmas when we sent him that sexy Holiday-gram, guy wanted to be swallowed hole, to be honest I was worried he was going to go to the roof and make the jump. I mean, naturally, we would have stopped him, but he can blush.”
I pound my fist against the desk and then take a soothing breath.
“He’s probably a virgin.”
“Oh!” Gabe walks up to me with arms wide.
“This reminds me, should we celebrate? Get a cake? Maybe with a giant no longer a V message on it? I feel like it’s a special moment in every young man’s life when—“
"—I’ll kill you.” I bang my head against my desk again.
“And then I’ll find a way to time travel and kill you again. This is all your fault. You hired her.”
"Sorry to interrupt.” Ava’s shaking when she walks in. Shit, I messed up again, will the screw-ups never stop happening?
“I just need you to sign these.” Her heels click against the floor as she brings the documents to me. I try as hard as I can to will myself to pull them from her grip gently, but she holds on tightly, like she’s pissed at me.
Our eyes lock.
Oh shit, she is pissed. I jerk the papers away.
“It’s not what you think.”
"Oh, it’s exactly what I think, your whore will be ready tonight, I hope you are, because I’m about to get violent.”
Gabe curses under his breath.
“Asshole still gets everything.”
"What was that?” Ava turns her evil glare toward him, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Gabe pale so fast in my entire life and he’s a fucking shapeshifter.
Gabe actually bows, no idea where that came from.
“My apologies, I was just teasing him about losing his V-card, has nothing to do with you, I mean it does have something to do with you, but in a roundabout oh-it-was-you way and clearly this isn’t work appropriate. I apologize, I tend to talk too much when I—“
"—Gabe.”
“Yes?”
“Go.”
“Right away.”
The man left without question.
"So.” I sigh.
“I have my therapy session in a bit.”
“Good for you.” Ava smiles politely.
“Once you’re done with the documents, I’ll send them in, oh and can I leave early tonight? Just by a few minutes.”
I frown, something doesn’t sit well with this question.
“I don’t mind, but be at my place by eight.”
She checks her watch.
“Don’t worry, it’s just a quick drink.”
I drum my fingertips on the desktop, then run both hands through my thick hair.
“A drink, with who? Girlfriends? Landlord? Homeless person?”
She shakes her head.
“You really are a jackass, you know I have no friends, and you’re my landlord, you prick!” She takes what looks like a soothing breath.
“Xavier asked me to text him, he’s taking me out for drinks tonight to celebrate becoming a whore.”
I start choking on my spit.
“W-what?”
She grins.
“Kidding, I just wanted to see your reaction. He’s taking me out for drinks to celebrate my job, working for you, and because I think he actually likes me.”
I bolt from my desk, unaware that I’m using my power, my speed, to get right in her face, only aware when her jaw drops.
“You remember the rules. Only me. If his dick gets anywhere near you, his death will be on your conscience, do you understand?”
She leans up on her tiptoes and flicks me on the forehead. I stumble back. Stunned. Maybe more horrified than angry that she even dared to flick me.
“No you listen, I’m with you on the full moons and yes only yours then, but eventually I’ll need someone to spend my life with so until then, sure I won’t sleep around, but I will date and I will make friends since you’ve made it abundantly clear, we’re nothing.”
She jerks the papers from my hands, turns and walks away, and I swear it takes every ounce of strength within me not to throw my fucking desk through the window.
Again.
I'm still pissed when I arrive at my therapist’s office, I don’t even sit. No, I pace, back and forth, back and forth, I think I’m making her nervous because I saw her swallow a pill then say, “Do go on…”
Oh, I’ll fucking go on, for days I’ll go on.
Just like me and Ava, it was on and on and on and do NOT get a boner in front of your therapist. She’ll get the wrong idea!
"I will go on, thank you! Some respect.” I toss my jacket and put my hands on my hips.
“I just don’t understand, I mean, I’m technically doing her a bigger favor, I can handle the pain. I have handled…” I point at my therapist.
“…this for years, centuries! I can handle a few days a month, thank you very much!”
My therapist searches for her water and digs into her desk for another pill.
“So, when did you start having these hallucinations, do you think maybe this can be from the fact that this was your first time having sex and it maybe fell flat for her? Maybe even for you?”
“I WAS!” I scream, and then take a deep breath and pinch my nose.
“Amazing. Like a crescendo from Mozart.”
My therapist actually coughs into her hand, but I know she’s mocking me. Where’s a desk to throw? Maybe just throw her? Humans do just tend to sink once in the air.
I smile at the idea.
Nothing about my situation is normal, and now she’s on a date, a date with the guy I hate the most.
“And why do you hate him?” she asks.
Did I say that out loud?
I stop pacing.
“Xavier is a self-righteous prick who thinks he can beat me and wants everything I have, so it’s my job to hate him for existing. Everything I do he copies.”
“Maybe he admires you?”
“Maybe he just wants to take what I have because he thinks he can.”
She sighs and checks her watch.
“Well, our time is nearing its end, did you want to repeat the phrase for me?”
I loathe her.
I shake my head.
She stands and smooths out her gross brown skirt and adjusts her low white tailored shirt that’s tucked in to said skirt, she approaches. Is she wearing nylons? I mean nothing wrong with nylons, but it’s distracting because they blend into the skirt and what the hell is happening?
She reaches for my hands, then just grips them.
“We can say it together.”
I would literally, literally, rather choke on a Tic Tac and go out that way, a Dorito, maybe even a piece of gum, than recite this.
But she’s strong for a human and she doesn’t let go and her eye contact makes me uncomfortable.
I sigh.
“I will control the bad thoughts and angry feelings. I am human. I am normal. Normal people get angry, shout it out, say it loud, rage is normal, getting help means you know the problem and want to be the solution. I am the solution. I will be okay. I have control.” I want to say, better?
She pats me on the hand.
“Was that so hard?”
One hundred percent the most difficult thing, I might even compare it to wrestling a bear even though I’ve never had the opportunity.
“No.” I’m very good at lying to my therapists. What time is it? Is her date over?
"Good.” She starts rubbing the back of my hand.
“Now I have some sad news, I’m relocating to a different location, and won’t be able to do your treatment, so we’re bringing in Maximillian, but he goes by M.”
"M?” I frown.
“So he’s new?”
As she says this and releases my hand, a guy with thick dark blonde hair and black Ray Bans walks in, his jeans are ripped, he has a very tiny and I do mean tiny white t-shirt attached to his torso. He shoves her nameplate from the desk and adds his, then folds his hands and stares at me.
“Me. I’m M.”
"A guy?” I point at him.
“My next therapist is a guy?”
She pats my shoulder.
“We just think, trying everything to help you get over your…sensitivity, might be great, and he’s trained in anger management from Duke!”
"That’s an actual program?” I’m flabbergasted.
"Sure is, little buddy." He smirks at me.
I’ll end him.
I lunge.
“See.” My old therapist holds me back.
“That was a test.”
“Little dude failed.” M chuckles.
“But we’ll try next week, for our first hour-long session.” The guy pulls out a box of licorice from his Mary Poppins bag from hell and tugs on the end.
“Can’t wait, bruh?”
I almost yell I’m not your bruh, instead I stomp over and stare at the tub of licorice.
“Gonna take five. Candy tax, you understand.”
"Take ten.” He grins.
“Sugar’s good for the soul, and you probably haven’t eaten due to the anxiety of having to come in here and talk…” He crooks his finger.
“About your feelings.”
I jerk back, ten licorice pieces in my hand.
“You’re different.”
"I’m the best.”
“Because I need it.”
He pauses briefly, then shrugs.
“You are different though, aren’t you, Eli?”
He knows.
Holy shit, he knows.
His eyes flash blue.
Thank God.
I take more licorice.
He laughs.
“Have a good night, and take care of Ava, she’s special.”
I stop midstep and look over my shoulder.
“How do you know her?”
He shrugs.
“I know a lot, see you next week, better hurry, it’s another full moon.” He looks at my old therapist with a sad, pathetic look on his face.
“Makes some people crazy, am I right?”
“So crazy!” She agrees.
I bolt with five pieces of licorice in my mouth and barely make it to my apartment in time to toss the rest on the counter and pretend to look unoccupied, grab a book, hold it upside down twice before figuring out that I just kept turning it, only to have the lock sound.
I'm calm. I’m serene. I'm not angry.
But the minute I smell him on her, I lose my shit, throw the book against the wall and stalk toward her.
“Did he touch you? Tell me now! Did he fucking touch you?”
She stumbles back, her eyes clear.
“Once, my hand, when I spilled my beer, and—“
I kiss her.
I can’t help myself.
The moon is there, but quite honestly, the pain is bearable.
It’s switched to something else.
The pain of not having her by my side.