TEN
I wake up in my apartment, head lolled over the back of the couch, and a tremendous kink in my neck. Not quite sure when I fell asleep, but if I had to guess, it was some time after the sun crept inside the loft, fighting its way through misshapen blinds and the curtains I still mean to fix. No way I could sleep when the moon was out. I probably never will again.
Chairs, a mattress, boxes I need to unpack, and whatever else I managed to find in my apartment to barricade the door still lay on the floor in front of the threshold, forming what I can only describe as a disorganized garage sale blockade between me and the one entrance inside. Looking at it now, there’s no way it would’ve stopped a regular person from breaking in, let alone a …
Werewolf.
No, the beast I saw last night would make easy work of the pile left in front of the door, chew its way through the mattress, kick over the boxes, and lurch toward me. Then, it would lift those horrible claws and rake them down my throat, shredding my neck to small ribbons of flesh. The thought of it replays in my head the same way it did before I managed the few hours of sleep. Sure, I’ve seen monster movies, but never imagined I’d unwillingly have a starring role in one.
Nik. The way the skin ripped off his body like loose fabric on a dress. It wasn’t a dream. I still smell the stench. The odor of Nik’s human body decaying and pieces of it falling on the ground near his feet. Only it wasn’t Nik. This thing, this animal, was as real as the chains keeping it in place despite many attempts to break free. If it weren’t for the chains, well, Nik might still have my blood on various parts of his chained and naked body. The one thing I can’t shake, though, was the howl that shuddered Volk’s foundation. The way the floor trembled as if, it too, shared the fear coursing through each of my veins. My ears haven’t stopped ringing.
I thought things could be different, but I was wrong. I remember the way he said it. How it seemingly took everything in him to keep his features stiff and emotionless while he forced me out of the club. You are not safe around me. Around this place. Nik was trying to protect me, and Jesus Christ, I wish I would’ve listened. Don’t come back. I did. I was stupid enough to go back anyway, and now I’ve seen something I can never unsee.
Way to go Natalie. The first guy you’re truly interested in turns out to be a fucking werewolf. What next? Put up a dating account on Monsters Mingle? Seeking a creature of the night to feast on my organs. This is my luck. I’m not sure what I ever did to deserve this kind of karma, but the ripe bitch apparently has it out for me. I pinch the bridge of my nose, fighting off the headache pounding my forehead.
I sit up, my legs throbbing in protest. A side effect of running for my fucking life down three to five vacant blocks until I stopped to catch my breath and order a rideshare, not to mention the chaffing on my raw inner thighs. The silver necklace he sent me rattles around my neck until it settles against my collarbone, glinting off the light pouring in. Maybe Nik gave me this to keep me safe? Safe from him. Protected from whatever the hell he turned into. Werewolves hate silver, at least every film swears by it. And when I held out the necklace in front of me, the thing almost seemed to be afraid of it. But if it's true, why would Nik have it in the first place?
The biggest thing nagging at me is how I didn’t know. Am I really that na?ve? There weren’t any signs, not that I’d have the first fucking clue what to look for to tell if the man I’m dating turns into a werewolf when the moon is full. He didn’t smell like an animal. His teeth were damn near perfect and didn’t resemble the jaws of a German shepherd. His breath didn’t stink of flesh, and he certainly didn’t stop at dinner to pick bones out of his gums. And the kiss. God, that kiss. Nik might be a part-time animal, but the kiss was nothing short of a full-time carnivore.
What am I going to do? It’s bad enough he can turn into a wolf, but to make matters worse … he knows where I live.
*
It took a while and a considerable amount of courage for me to dismantle the barricade and leave the safety of my loft. There aren’t any packages waiting for me at my doorstep, nor is there another person in sight save for the handyman carrying a ladder down the hallway, skipping my apartment in dire need of repairs. Not surprising. There is something that stands out to me though. They weren’t here yesterday, and it certainly wasn’t there when I barreled inside last night, panting while my legs threatened to give out. Four distinct lines are carved into my front door, each digging a half inch into the wood. I run my fingers over them, splaying my index and pinky to match the size. It was him. Grabbing the crescent moon on my chain, I squeeze until the sharp edges nearly pierce through my skin. He was here. While there might not be a box with an intricately wrapped bow waiting on my doormat, he didn’t leave me empty handed. Claw marks.
Sure, my first instinct is to rush right back inside, lock the dead bolt, throw all the shit I had to step over back in front of it, and never leave my apartment again. Jumping to conclusions? I saw a man become a fucking monster not even ten feet away from me. He had no issue carving up my door like a goddamn calling card, and now, I don’t know that I’ll ever feel safe no matter what I push against the entrance. Sure, it will be a while before the next full moon, but who really knows if the human Nikolai isn’t as terrifying beneath the gentle smile and piercing gold eyes. It was all a lie. He played me from the beginning.
Not tonight I don’t , he had said. It wasn’t just how he said it but the way my insides suddenly took a freefall to the bottom of my stomach. As much as I want to believe I was right about him from the get-go, that the man who made my heart thump at uneven rhythms is dangerous, I feel the heat of his lips from our first kiss. It was unlike any way someone had kissed me before. His mouth perfectly clasping around mine. The electricity using me as a conduit when the two of us became one. How he held me so delicately while dancing to the soft music in his loft. It was … too good to be true.
I pull my hand away, sure to have a few splinters dug into each finger, and give the hallway one last glance before locking my door and marching outside.
*
It’s warmer out today than it’s been all week, a break from the regularly scheduled winter season chill. The sun is high in the cloudless California sky, casting shadows to the streets from buildings tall enough to touch the heavens. I’m thankful for the foot traffic, even if it means taking an elbow to the ribs or maneuvering around those too wrapped up in their own little worlds to pay attention to where the hell they’re walking. Annoying, sure. But I’m not alone, and there’s no chance in hell Nik would try something on such a crowded street. No one is that bold. Not even a werewolf.
Standing at the intersection, I stare up at the signal and wait for my turn to cross alongside a dozen or more traveling in the same direction. They’re probably not going to the same shop I am. On second thought, there’s no way in hell they are. Not unless they have some monster of their own leaving threats on their front door. Oddities and Curiosities. No website, and judging by the Facebook page with forty-six followers, I think it’s safe to say business isn’t booming. But it was the only hit I had on every search engine when looking up the supernatural using the near-me function, so maybe they can give me some answers on what the fuck I’m dealing with. So, You Dated A Bloodthirsty Killing Machine , I imagine the retailer handing me a thick leather-bound book while restocking garlic necklaces and silver-tipped wooden stakes.
Holy shit, I am losing it. The lines of reality have certainly crossed streams with that of pure fiction. A werewolf? A fucking werewolf in LA? Get a grip Natalie. Nikolai Vostik dumped you, and for some reason, you decided to rationalize it by believing he was a monster because of how things ended. Sure, I’ve seen his loft before. Of course I was devastated when he left me on the street and demanded I didn’t come back. But last night, it was like I was there. Watching this man become something else entirely. Death in its purest form.
Was it all a dream? Was Nik changing into a wolf some figment of my imagination? I want to say yes, but there’s a small part in my head screaming quite the opposite. The stench of sizzling flesh? Maybe he just finished cooking something. His golden eyes becoming dark black pools, void of anything human? Being a photographer, I see all the time how lighting affects eyes differently. Not really concerning. Dimitri carrying me out to safety? My arms are still sore from how close he held me as he took us to the staircase. Easy enough to explain. Maybe I slept on my arm wrong. The claw marks on my door? Well, the hallway is narrow. Someone could’ve scraped it moving furniture. Everything has a very real, very logical explanation. Nik isn’t some predator out to get me. He’s just a rich asshole that lost interest. I’ll probably never see him again.
The low rumble of a motorcycle vibrates the sidewalk, and as the rider approaches the intersection, they rev the throttle, giving the street corner an obnoxious and ear-splitting startle. Everyone—including me—jerks their attention toward him. Long brown hair breaches the bottom of his helmet, falling over a black leather jacket. There’s something in the air, and it isn’t the exhaust fumes or smoke from the tires, it’s … cedar.
No. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.
I shrivel behind the large man in front of me, trying my best to remain unseen. The bike stops three feet from where I’m standing, and then, he revs the engine again.
Nik. He found me. Despite the hundreds of people wandering the busiest blocks of this city, Nik zeroed in on me somehow, and now, it’s as if he wants me to know he can find me. That there’s nowhere in LA I can go without him being one frightening step behind. I’m not losing it. Everything I saw in his loft was real. He is a werewolf and judging from how he’s tracked me down … he has my fucking scent .
Some start crossing the street on each side of him, a steady stream maneuvering around the motorcycle. A few of them yell or curse at him as they pass, but I know nothing they say will phase him. This man could rip each of their limbs from the sockets as easily as he removes his socks at the end of a long day. Tear through an entire crowded block to get to me if he wants to. But … he doesn’t. No, in the reflective visor of his motorcycle helmet I see me standing idle at the near-vacant corner, my eyes as large as the crossing signal. What in the hell does he want? Is he trying to scare me? Make me run in the other direction because he enjoys the chase? Palms at my sides, sweat begins to build as low as my fingertips and as high as my neck. I can’t run right now even if I wanted to.
When his stoplight shifts to green, he gives one final wrench of the throttle and takes off down the street, racing past the cars until his silhouette is only a small dot, and the hum of his engine is as faint as the smell of him. Nikolai Vostik is a werewolf. An apex predator, and now I know without a doubt … I am the prey.