4. CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 4
Cassidy
I burst out laughing.
Graham's eye twitches in surprise. "You think this is funny?"
"I'm sorry," I choke out, trying to swallow the remaining saliva to keep myself from throwing up. Not because of the alcohol, although, I had a few drinks just now.
No, it's because of the man sitting next to me. The scent of cedar cologne rises through my nostrils, making me heady. I gulp for air to clear my head. "I think I drank a little too much. Passed a little beyond the limit that normal people drink. Just ignore me and please continue with your explanation."
It's impossible.
I've just witnessed the impossible. There's no denying it. But that doesn't mean I have to accept it.
A wolf-man hybrid is...well, it's unlikely, for starters. Those sorts of creatures only exist in the old books that my foster parents used to read when I was small. Nowadays, young people don't really bother with fairytales. We like the realistic books. The kind where you can see the main character's struggles with a logical solution in sight. Not the bloody bickering between a warlock and a witch.
Or was it between a man and his mate?
I don't remember the story very well because I've been a geek since middle school, and I ignored the fantasy genre altogether, but I know it revolves around a wolf that shifts into a man and a vampire that shifts into a bat. I snort out loud. Of course, I could've forgotten about any other details, but I remember that.
Fantastic.
"How can you think that's funny?" Graham continues his attack, completely ignoring the fact that my mind is malfunctioning, and if I do accept what he's telling me, I'd be calling myself crazy.
It's better to call someone else crazy than to admit that the world is becoming increasingly surreal, I conclude.
Besides, it's not like I can tell everyone that I've seen a wolf-shifter hybrid. I'll be given a one-way ticket to the loony bin.
"Tell me everything," I demand. "The whole truth, from A to Z."
If I knew my employer's secrets, at least I'd know how to act. It will be a weird way of having been told where my professional line is drawn, but so be it. What else can go wrong?
"Very well," Graham says, straightening his back. For a human with mental problems, he appears very serious. His face is pale like that of a supernatural being from the movies I used to watch on TV. "The first thing you should know is that the so-called supernatural creatures live among you."
Not something new, I think. Everyone walks around thinking they're more important than other people. Even I sometimes slip. What comes next, a part of me thinks. Yes, I'd like to say, 'What comes next,' but I stay silent.
"They've been living their own lives, creating their own societies, and hierarchies," Graham continues. "For example, the wolves have monarchies, the witches have covens, and the vampires have some sort of system based on their ages.”
“To be honest, no one knows much about the bloodsuckers. They tend to keep to themselves and are very secretive. We don't even bother mentioning them much. There are other species, but wolves and witches are the only two worth talking about, in my opinion."
Nodding like a kid, I pay close attention. No detail will be left out. He doesn't have a way out.
At least that part is interesting, my inner nerd relents.
"Okay. So what we saw there, that wolf-man is a king?" I remind him and this time it isn't funny. If we aren't playing a prank on each other, as Graham shows absolutely no signs of deceit, we might as well put two and two together and see how much is left after this crazy tale.
My world is spinning and not because I'm drunk. Everything is connected. I wish I would've read more fantasy books. Fuck, if I had known that was the reality, I would’ve devoured them one after another. But because I've been too into cozy mysteries, I am completely unprepared for what Graham tells me next.
"He's not a king," Graham says. "He's not even a part of any official courts."
"How do you know?" I ask, challenging his statement. No doubt we were looking at the wolf royalty of some unknown universe. He was too white to be normal. I think. But hey, what the fuck do I know?
"I'm going to give you a quick history lesson, okay?" Graham asks.
I nod. I have all the time in the world.
"We are going to go way, way back to the Upper Paleolithic period. That's about thirty thousand years ago," Graham starts, his brows furrowing in concentration as he gathers his thoughts.
"It was during the ice age when a small group of hunters went on search for food to feed their families. They came upon a group of nomads who looked like they were doing well. At first glance, the hunters could see nomads were well-fed, warm, and comfortable despite the many dangers coming from nature itself."
"What did the hunters do?" I ask, caught up in the tale as if I were back in school. I love learning new things.
Graham sighs and gives his head a sad shake. "Instead of approaching the nomads and asking them for help, they attacked them. They raped the women and murdered the men. They left destruction and death in their wake. The nomads weren't fighters. Not like the hunters. They didn't have the means to defend themselves. But in the end, it turned out that the nomads were something much more dangerous."
"What do you mean?" I ask, even though I'm quite sure I know the answer to my own question. I'm far from a genius, but a person doesn't survive the foster home with a brain full of mush.
"The nomads were one of the first covens," Graham explains. "Back then, they didn't use their magic to fight. They used it to keep their camp warm and their bellies full. They were a peaceful group."
I nod, leaning back against the sofa. The wood presses into the back of my legs. I wrap my arms around my middle as my entire body shivers, but not because I'm cold. Everything he tells me should be impossible.
The thing with impossible is that it rarely is.
And yet, it's hard to believe.
"After raping the women, the hunters didn't bother killing them off," Graham continues. "They left them alone in their grief and anger. It's when their hate and thirst for vengeance was born. The women began practicing blood magic. They located the hunters who had returned to their own camp.”
“With the use of their powers, the women murdered the hunters' wives and kids. They left the men alive but not before cursing them with spending an eternity as the beasts they were."
"Wait, but if they are to spend an eternity as the beasts, then how come they are able to shift?" I ask, completely confused. Is there a new definition of an eternity that I'm not aware of?
Graham smiles. "That's a great question. Well, you see, one of the hunters was a young boy, barely in his teenage years. It is said that he protected one of the young witches from being raped or hurt during the attack. The witch felt like she owed him, so when the coven cast the curse as one, she added an extra line to it which changed its entire meaning."
"She broke the curse," I whisper.
"Yes," Graham confirms. "The other witches didn't know this until years later. They'd never done blood magic before."
"What did this new curse do?" I ask, hugging myself tighter. It's a crazy tale, and yet, it sounds so right.
"Instead of men spending an eternity as beasts, they spent it with the beasts," Graham explains. "They were forced to share their bodies with another soul. With the spirit of a wolf. Though many times it is said that wolves are the beasts, I can tell you from personal experience that a lot of wolves are much better mannered than their human companions."
"How do you know so much about it?" I ask, raising my brow. It certainly sounds like some sort of secret society to me. The one you've spent years learning about and then a lifetime trying to leave behind once you became a fully-fledged member.
"It's a legend I grew up with," Graham says, his dark eyes locking on mine. "It's my family's origin story."
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
It's official. I've lost my marbles.
The MIT's top graduate loses her shit over a fucking story that isn't even true.
I burst out laughing again. "Right. Your family's origin story."
"You don't believe me, Miss Strayed?" Graham teases, enjoying my reaction, much to my dismay.
"No," I lie blatantly. "I don't. Especially not the part where you think you're a wolf-man. That's what you're talking about, isn't it?"
Another beat passes, and this time, my face hardens.
"Alright, hold that thought," Graham orders me. His strong hand wraps around my wrist, giving it a soft squeeze. Then he leaves the room, leaving me alone with the big screens and silence.
Don't be nervous, my brain tells me.
Right. It's impossible not to be nervous when an imaginary wolf-man wants to tell you something important.
Graham returns after a while. "I've sent everyone home," he tells me.
My eyes widen. "What? Why?"
"Because it's important that there are no witnesses for what I'm about to show you," he says, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Now, I'm going to get murdered. Thanks, God. Just what I need in my life.
"Why? What will you show me?" I force the question out.
Fuck it. I might as well get to know the nuts and bolts of my soon-to-be murderer.
"I need you to calm down, Cassidy," Graham says. "I know that what I told you sounded crazy, but you need to brace yourself for what I'm about to show you, okay? I promise that you won't get hurt. I swear it on my life."
There are very few things I do in life without carefully planning every single detail, and there are very few things in life that can startle me.
But looking at this hard-muscled boss of mine, I can't find anything to say. With all the crazy things that I've been told and the crazy things that I've seen, I'm afraid of what will happen next.
The expression on Graham's face is completely stoic. Emotionless, like a mask. The kind you could find on someone who'd rather not be participating in the events going on around them, but has no choice because it's a part of their job. It tells me something about him. He's not enjoying himself being put on display like this.
"Go ahead and show me," I say, squaring my shoulders.
Without a word, Graham rises from the sofa and leans forward. To my surprise, he undoes his belt first, then moves to the zipper of his pants.
"Woah, woah," I say, taking a step away. That's not how I envisioned getting frisky with a boss. At least not a naked, dick out, wang-around boss. No offense. His head of wolf is not my cunny's business.
"Relax, Cassidy," Graham says in a soothing voice. "Everything's fine."
"And everything will remain fine?" I ask, pointing at his manhood.
Graham snorts. "Trust me. No part of me is interested in you touching my cock."
"I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be offended by that statement," I say dryly.
After chuckling, Graham continues as if I'd never interrupted. He leaves his belt unbuckled and his pants unzipped, but instead of pulling them down, he shrugs off his jacket and neatly folds it over the sofa. His gaze locks with mine as he slackens the knot of his tie and pulls it over his head. Next, he begins to unbutton his shirt.
"What are you doing?" I whisper, licking my suddenly very dry lips.
Graham finishes unbuttoning his shirt and then lets it slide down his large shoulders.
I clear my throat. Or maybe it's one last cry for help that can be heard for miles away. I'm not sure. I can only stare at the washboard abs in front of me. Is he seriously a hybrid? His muscles are unreal.
"Don't be alarmed," he says gently. "I don't want to ruin my clothes."
Graham removes his shoes next, socks following the same fate.
I hold my breath when I realize that he'll take off his pants and underwear now. Okay, this definitely doesn't look like any hookup I've ever had.
Where were we? Right. Graham taking off his underwear.
I'm almost afraid to watch. I can't tell if this is part of his prank to humiliate his employee or if it's something else entirely.
With his head bowed down, Graham removes his pants and then stands in front of me, butt naked. I should tell him that this is a great sexual harassment case if I've ever seen one. But there are worse things than seeing your hot boss's six-pack.
I should at least try to look him in the eyes, but I can't. Not when his cock is right there. So long, and...holy shit.
A high-pitched whimper escapes me.
Suddenly, Graham straightens his back and lets out a low laugh. The muscles around his stomach contract, bulging and distracting me with their perfection.
My gaze is pulled up until it meets his dark eyes. They're alive and twinkling with mischief.
"Ready for this?" he whispers, but not to warn me. It's almost as if he's not talking to me.
I nod, licking my lips. And then I gasp when I see a shift in his form. His entire body tenses, followed by a soft howl. The muscles on his chest move, a ripple under his skin, like something wild is trying to break free. There are popping sounds next, and then, fur bursts out from his skin. It's entirely black in color.
The soft floor beneath my feet creaks as I accidentally slide the rubber bottom of my shoe against it, and that's when I realize I've gotten up and have been slowly backing away until I'm against the screen that's been mounted on the wall. I had to let go of the empty glass at some point because my hands are empty.
In the blink of an eye, the man disappears.
Now, the beast is in front of me. A wolf. Graham. Him.
I'm in the presence of a beast.
I’m not aware of when I fell, but I’m looking at him from the floor up. There's a dull ache on my hip from when I had fallen down to the hard surface.
I don't quite believe my eyes when he moves toward me, but he doesn't attack. He's a lot bigger than any wolf I've seen in pictures. I can feel the way his paws press onto the floor, making it seem like he's trying to lighten his own weight. His steps are short and measured. Whatever he's doing, he's making an effort not to scare me, but it's futile.
I turn my head to the side when he comes closer to breathe my scent in, his nose is less than an inch from the side of my face. Warm air hits the sensitive skin of my ear, and I flinch.
Fear wraps around my throat as if a hand is clutching at it. The pressure doesn't allow air to reach my lungs properly, but before I can freak out even more, the wolf stops moving. Graham pulls back, a worried expression etched on his wolf's face.
It’s him, and yet, it's not him.
It's the beast. The wolf within him.
At this moment, I realize that he will not hurt me. But the panic that he provoked in me is real, and not being used to feeling that terrified, I have no idea what to do next.
As my view keeps swimming, Graham slowly retreats, very slowly. He backs up into a corner. The walls and ceiling bend at impossible angles. Sounds hit my ears that I've never heard before.
My vision blurs as darkness beckons closer. It forms like a cloud underneath me, thick enough to lift me off the floor. I'm being carried over to the sofa.
The thought startles me. A sudden jolt of adrenaline travels through my body.
I react. I react to the sensation I know to be my body, and the second I do, I come to my senses.
And then I see him.
Graham in his wolf form is in the corner.
And I see the darkness underneath me.
It's real. It's thick and hard to touch.
A cloud...of energy, I realize.
So, now we have flying darkness in the picture, I summarize my thoughts while still clutching the sofa's armrest for dear life. It's better than fainting, I suppose.
The shadow under me lets go, and I sit down. With my head held between my knees, I close my eyes and take slow breaths, pretending that I'm focusing.
Moments later, I'm pretty sure Graham has shifted back, but I don't check.
I take a deep breath to brace myself.
And then I run.
I run out of the office.
I choose the stairs instead of the elevator.
I jump two, three at a time.
I don’t know how long it takes but it’s a good thing I’m not wearing heels. The adrenaline keeps me going. It helps me push through the exhaustion.
I run, and run, and run.
I don't stop running until I get into a cab.
My heart doesn't stop thundering until I'm home.
And even then, I don't stop thinking about the man in the office.
Of the look in Graham's eyes.
Of the inexplicable power that seeped from his pores.
Despite knowing better, I lock myself in the bathroom. Not bothering to take my jacket off, I climb into the empty tub. It gives me a sense of safety that the rest of my apartment lacks. I'm not an idiot. I know the porcelain won't shield me from any harm, but comfort is the key here.
It allows me to wrap my brain around everything I've experienced.
The reality of the situation hits me like a tidal wave.
Until now, there were many uncertainties. Now, there's only one question.
How the fuck did I manage to get myself in trouble this time?