Chapter 3 #2
He grows, muscles bulging under his shirt, which almost seems to tear with the tension.
Hair begins to spread across his skin, covering his arms and neck, while sharp claws protrude from his fingers.
Fangs emerge, stretching from his jaw as his face transforms, becoming more beastly, with features that blur the line between man and beast. His eyes glow golden, fierce and inhuman, with an intensity that makes my heart race.
With an agile, predatory movement, he lunges at the wolf, grabbing him by the neck. The muffled sound of the impact echoes through the tavern as the Beast lifts him from his chair with extraordinary strength, making it clear that there is no escape.
The wolf lets go of my bum at the same moment, his fingers trembling as he tries to pull Mark's hand away from his neck.
"Let go of me!" the wolf growls, trying to free himself from the grip.
Mark tilts his head, a dark smile playing on his lips.
"Well, since you like to touch others without permission, I thought you'd like to be touched the same way.
All I can do is watch.
The alpha leader of the werewolves, sitting across the table, stands up abruptly, his chair crashing to the floor. His wolfish eyes glow golden with warning, and a deep growl reverberates throughout the room.
"Let go of my man," the alpha says, his voice deep and heavy with authority.
But Mark doesn't let go, his claws slowly digging into the wolf's skin, making his neck bleed, his eyes bulging red, his tongue swelling out...
The wolf struggles, his legs kicking the air, his claws trying to tear Mark's arms, but every cut inflicted on the beast's skin heals immediately, as if it had never existed.
"I said let him go!" The alpha growls, baring his fangs.
Mark raises his eyebrows, but releases the wolf, who falls to the ground, choking and coughing as he drags himself away.
"Teach your men to behave," Mark retorts in that guttural voice, as he adjusts his shirt with deliberate movements and fixes a piercing gaze on the alpha. "Or do you need a lesson too?"
"Watch what you say, you mongrel bastard." The lupine bares his fangs, his words sharp, designed to provoke.
Mark doesn't flinch.
"And what are you going to do?" His voice is laden with a serenity that sends shivers down the spine. There is no irony, only palpable danger. "Challenge me to a duel?"
The alpha leader's eyes flash, and he lets out a fierce growl, his sharp teeth still bared. But the tension in his raised shoulders and stiff muscles betrays the truth.
Everyone knows that if there were a duel, the alpha would not emerge victorious.
"Guys, we're in a tavern, not an arena. If you continue, I'll banish you all from here." Char, the bar owner, appears at my side with his arms crossed a . His skin is already scarlet, but I swear it looks redder than usual, containing his frustration.
"He's right, let's sit down and order something. We came here to celebrate, not to fight." The man who smells like a bear says to Mark, who grunts in response.
His posture gradually relaxes, and his beastly features begin to soften, transforming back into his human form. It's like watching a storm dissipate, only to reveal something equally powerful and devastating in its place.
He is breathtaking, both in his monstrous and human forms — a wild beauty that seems to defy all logic.
My eyes drift away from his, but I can't ignore the weight of his attention. It's almost palpable, a pressure that makes my skin burn as if it were under intense heat.
I should thank him for intervening, but frustration consumes me.
I was handling the situation on my own. Now, with all this confusion, it's quite likely that the wolves won't be generous with their tips. Damn, all my effort, all the insults I swallowed all night... all for nothing.
Mark and his gang move away to a table in the back. When I turn back to the wolves, I control my breathing to stop my hands from shaking and try not to exude the smell of fear.
"And you, would you like to order anything else?"
"Nah, I'm done," the alpha growls, cracking his neck in a gesture of frustration. "Let's go." His voice is authoritative, and his pack immediately obeys without hesitation.
They quickly pay what they owe, and the tension dissipates as soon as they walk out the door. I take a deep breath, relieved, but soon my heart races again as I walk towards that table in the back.
The energy emanating from him is palpable.
Beast.
The nickname is no accident: with his serious expression and no-nonsense posture, he exudes the energy of someone who does not like to be bothered.
He is quiet, always seeming lost in dark thoughts, but today I feel his gaze fixed on me.
Again.
I don't dare look into his brown eyes.
Because whenever I look at them... something inside me falls apart.
It's as if the ground beneath my feet gives way, as if every secret, every barrier I've built over the years, is torn down.
I feel myself being pulled towards him, like an invisible thread tied to my chest, forcing my barriers down, leaving me exposed — as if something in me recognised him without my understanding.
And that scares me more than any imminent danger.
Instead, my gaze slips to his features, his marked jawline, his firm lips, the way his golden hair falls untidily across his forehead, which seems permanently furrowed.
He must notice my attention there and runs his hand through his hair. There is something mesmerising about that simple gesture. I admire the bulging veins in his huge hand, in his big arm...
For heaven's sake, what am I doing?
I try to look away, but it's impossible.
He demands attention, imposing, his presence a force I cannot ignore.
That no one can ignore.
"Does this always happen?" His voice, firm and low, startles me.
Is he... talking to me?
"Huh?"
"What that wolf did." The Beast looks at the table where the drunken werewolves were sitting. "Does this happen often?"
I shrug and give a crooked smile.
"It's part of the job."
"Char will hear me out. It's high time he put one of my security guards in charge of the employees. The useless ones he has here are good for nothing."
Oh, by the stars and Mother Moon!
I know he is trying to protect me, but this could get me fired if he gets into trouble with Char because of me!
"Thanks, but no thanks. I can take care of myself," I reply, waving my hand in the air, trying to look unconcerned, but my heart is racing in my chest.
He just grunts, a low sound laden with irritation, making it clear that he is not convinced at all.
"Have you decided what you're going to order?" I change the subject, trying to ease the tension. With a broad smile, I add: "We have a new drink on the menu. They say it's super refreshing, maybe just what you need to cool down that hot head of yours, Mark."
As soon as the words come out, my heart skips a beat and I widen my eyes, completely mortified.
What the hell am I doing teasing this man? Do I want to die?
His friends burst out laughing.
He doesn't.
Mark watches me with his usual serious expression, a crease forming on his forehead, his face turning redder and redder. I notice his fingers curling over the table, his claws scratching the surface.
He looks like he wants to strangle me like he did the wolf.
Heaven help me, don't let him kill me...
"I prefer the house beer," he finally replies, and I can finally breathe.
I continue taking orders, trying to be subtle as I watch Mark out of the corner of my eye.
My heart continues to beat fast, my breathing is ragged, and an unexpected heat runs through my body, warming even the back of my neck.
I'm sure he can hear and even smell my reaction.
I need to pull myself together!
I shake my head, forcing myself to concentrate, and get back to work.
Thankfully, I don't have to worry about interacting with him again, as Mark leaves shortly after finishing his first drink.
When the clock strikes half past three in the morning, Char rings the bell, announcing the last round. I'm exhausted and hungry. The meal he offers to employees — which I devour minutes before starting my shift — has been corroded by my stomach centuries ago.
Pandemonium finally empties, I grab my tip box and sit on the stool to count it. I'm still pissed off because the damn werewolves — who consumed the most and made the biggest mess — didn't leave a penny.
Tomorrow I need to make twice as much as I did today. Only then will I have enough to pay the rent on Monday — assuming, of course, that I don't spend anything on anything else.
"Ready to go?" Luther suddenly appears beside me, almost knocking me off the stool.
"I thought you had already left with that human hanging on your neck." I raise my eyebrows, confused.
Luther smiles crookedly, shaking his head.
"You're wrong. You're the one I'm taking home." Before I can protest, he adds, as if it were obvious: "Haven't you seen the warning about monsters on the loose? It's not safe to go back alone."
Warning?
I frown and pull my mobile phone out of my pocket. Only then do I notice the notification flashing on the Salem underworld app, used by all supernatural beings to follow the city's news.
Great, another headache for my collection.
I'm relieved by his offer, because otherwise I would have to walk back, as usual.
"Thank you. Yes, I'm ready." I put the tips in my bag and walk to the corner where he had parked.
As we get into the car, a floral scent hits me, sweet and cloying, like an overly perfumed field of flowers. I wrinkle my nose, trying to identify where the scent is coming from, as it wasn't there earlier.
"What's that smell?" I ask, unable to hide my discomfort.
Luther hesitates for a moment, making a small grimace before answering.
"It must be the perfume of the human who rubbed herself against me all night. It seems to have transferred to my clothes."
I feel my stomach churn and, without thinking, I open the window, letting the night breeze in to dispel that suffocating scent.
"Sometimes I forget that shape-shifters have more sensitive noses," he comments, by way of observation.
"It may be an advantage, but in cases like this, it's a curse," I mutter.
He starts driving, and the wind through the window alleviates the worst of the smell, although a faint trace remains.
"Tomorrow, I'll pick you up for work again. At the end of the day, I'll drop you off at home."
I look at him, biting my lip.
"Are you sure? You live on the other side of town, and besides, I don't want to bother you. I know that if it weren't for helping me, you would have taken the human to your house."
He turns his face towards me, and for a moment, it seems like he's thinking about what to say.
"You said you'd only believe it if you saw it. I'm just showing you that I can change... for you."
His words take me by surprise. Normally, he would speak in a playful tone, but now he sounds serious, and that unsettles me.
"Luther, I..."
"What?" His eyes seek mine, penetrating my barriers. "You like our flirting, so why keep resisting? I've wanted more than this for so long, and this little game of teasing is wearing me down. I can't pretend I don't feel anything for you anymore."
My stomach tightens, and for a moment, doubt creeps into my mind. Would it really be that bad? But I shake my head, trying to push the thought away.
"Luther, I only see you as a friend, and I don't want this to ruin our friendship."
He is silent for a moment, his eyes darkening, something subtle but visible. A shiver runs down my spine when he touches my face, caressing my cheek.
"I can change your mind, if you let me."
Suddenly, a headache begins to form.
That floral perfume... bothers me again, and I realise it's making me dizzy.
"I need to go," I say, my voice a little weaker than I would like. "We'll talk later."
He slowly lets go of me, frowning, but says nothing to stop me. The silence lasts for a few seconds before he takes a deep breath.
"See you tomorrow, Sandra."
"See you," I reply, getting out of the car as quickly as possible.
I don't know what to think about what just happened, but I don't have the energy to dwell on it right now.
I'm too exhausted and hungry. I'll leave the freaking out for tomorrow.
When I get to my flat, I go straight to the kitchen and make a blackberry smoothie, drink a full glass and eat the last slice of bread.
All I have left is milk for the next few days, nothing else. And I can't spend a penny until I pay the rent.
With a sigh, I take a shower, brush my teeth and throw myself onto the old mattress.
My grandmother's photograph is on the side table, the frame worn by time. I look at her and feel a pain tightening my chest. I raise my hand and caress the image, letting a tear fall.
"Grandma, I'll be fine, I promise. Don't worry," I whisper, more to myself than to the photograph.
She would hate to see me like this.
I would hate to know that I lost everything to pay off the debts I accumulated as her guardian, especially when she needed to start treatment for the cancer that ultimately took her life.
The burden of hospital debt still haunts me, and the instalments I have to pay leave me with almost nothing to live on at the end of the month.
I lost her house to the mortgage, I lost everything we had.
And I would give everything again, I would trade everything, if I could just have her here with me.
Ah, Granny...
I'll be fine, yes, for you.
I don't know how, I don't know when.
But I will.