Chapter 2 Mona #2
I try not to lean into him, but I can't help it.
He's just right there, taking up all this space.
I've always been sensitive to smells, like everything else, and I catch a hint of petrichor, something earthy, like the ground after fresh rain, with a citrusy note.
It's calming, parting the sea of intense synthetics and perfumes and stale alcohol around us.
And only when he pulls back, not exactly giving me space, but far enough for me to take in his perplexed expression, do I realize I just let this complete stranger corner and sniff me.
"Umm, can I help you?" Later, I'll be embarrassed by how breathy I sound.
"What are you?" he growls, leaning down so close our noses nearly touch.
His voice is deep, the tone low, raking over gravel.
The citrusy scent is stronger on his breath.
Oranges and lemon. Clean and crisp. His brow furrows, pulling the scar above his eye taut.
It cuts through and disfigures the eyebrow, leaving a thin, hairless white line in its place.
It shouldn't make him more attractive, but it does.
Violence. That's what the scar says. He's so full of violence, I can nearly taste it.
Full lips pull into a snarl. "Answer me, pet."
"Uh, what?" I swallow. I'm certain I should be offended by a slew of things he's done in the last thirty seconds, but I can't concentrate on any of them, only his eyes, dark green, like a forest after dark, as they sear into me.
I shake my head and try again. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
He narrows his eyes, then leans in again and sniffs. I resist the urge to fidget. I may skip perfumes and body sprays, but I know I smell clean. Maybe a little sweaty.
"You're not…" he starts. Then he waits, still all up in my personal space, like I'm supposed to finish that sentence.
"I'm not what?"
A few seconds pass. Then a minute. I feel itchy. I know I should want to get away from this very intense close talker with gorgeous green eyes, days-old scruff and thick arms trapping me in place, but I'm rooted. My feet won't move. My arms won't lift to push him away.
I should be uncomfortable or scared, but instead, I feel calm. Warm. Content being near him.
Finally, after another minute, he shakes his head.
And then his entire demeanor changes. The darkness fades away. As much as it can for someone like him, covered in tattoos and scars, and his general air of fuck with me at your peril.
"Nevermind, pet." Then he winks, turns, and leaves. And just like his arrival, the black hole of energy follows him, and only then do the sounds of the party rush back in.
Huh.
That was the weirdest five minutes of my life. Hands down. And I once caught my elderly neighbor stealing my underwear in the laundry room.
This is the part where I should breathe again, but I think he took all the oxygen with him. Something inside me sparks to life, a rush, a need to follow him. I take a step forward, but Amy snaps me back to reality.
"Okay, who in the fuck was that?"
"I don't know," I say honestly.
"Damn. I'd drop Eric in a heartbeat for twenty minutes with him. Hell, I'd do it for ten. I bet he'd change my life in ten minutes. Did you feel that? I mean, what the fuck?" Amy fans her neck, still staring in the direction he disappeared, though he's long gone. I can't tear my eyes away either.
That itchy feeling inside me crawls around, making me feel restless. It's familiar, but I don't feel it often. Random occasions, like when I'm at the doctor's office my dad brings me to, or when I'm having particularly bad days, when I'm doubling up on my meds and can't get off the couch.
All my physical energy might be zapped, but something inside me, something beneath my skin, wants to get out. It's clawing and aching.
But I'm here, and he's gone, and that whole thing was a fluke. So why does it feel like he took a piece of me with him?
The loneliness feels louder than ever.
Amy keeps talking, and Jason, the guy I was flirting with earlier, finally makes his way over. They talk around me, though Jason keeps trying to include me. I smile and chime in when appropriate, but I'm off kilter. Confused. Unwell.
It's different from the usual. Not woozy or tired. In fact, I feel kind of wired. Like that restlessness beneath my skin is trying to get out, banging around my insides.
Jason is a nice guy, but I've lost all interest in him. It's not his fault. Not that I'm comparing him to whoever the hell that man was, because that wouldn't be very fair. It'd be like comparing a chihuahua to a hellhound. Different beasts altogether.
Amy laughs at something and hits my shoulder again, but now I'm stuck in a thought I can't shake.
Could he have been…?
No.
Impossible.
Everyone knows wolves don't come to the city. They keep to their communities in the woods and countryside. And yet… once the idea is planted, all I can think is that, yes, he might've been a wolf. He must have been.
Holy shit! Was he a fucking wolf?
I've never met a werewolf, or shifter, whatever they like to be called.
They keep to themselves. There are forums and gossip sites about them, but nobody really knows what's accurate or not, because, aside from some wolf-leader on the west coast, they keep their identities secret.
We know humans vastly outnumber the werewolf population, but still, when there are supposedly hundreds of thousands of werewolves worldwide, you'd think at least one of them would want to be a celebrity and end up on human news.
But no. Just a few random postings, some articles with potentially false claims about their mating, eating or killing habits. So elusive that most humans, like me, forget they exist entirely.
But there was something other about him, and suddenly, I feel struck down by the realization that yes, I just met a fucking werewolf. He leaned in close, he smelled me.
What are you?
That's what he asked me. Human was the correct response, I realize belatedly. What else would I be?
Eric comes over a few minutes later and throws his arm around Amy's shoulders.
They make plans with Jason to get brunch tomorrow, and Amy nudges me not-so-subtly and asks if I want to join.
A double-date isn't subtle, but she's a few drinks deep.
I almost say no, it's on the tip of my tongue.
But even if I lost interest in Jason, tomorrow I'll realize I'm still alone in the world, and I did think he was cute half an hour ago.
"Umm, sure. Yeah, that sounds good. If I'm up for it, I'll definitely come," I tell Amy pointedly.
She nods in understanding. We mostly work remote, handling calls for an agency that provides outsourced customer service.
It's the perfect job for me because even on my off days, I can still manage to sit on the couch with my laptop, headset, TV on mute, and earn a paycheck.
Jason asks if he can walk me home when I announce to the group that I'm leaving.
It's not even midnight, but I'm drained, confused, and a little overwhelmed.
I don't know why. I don't know if that guy was a werewolf, I have no proof, just a suspicion.
And nothing happened, aside from our intense, brief encounter.
But the urge to leave the party prods at me, and, like always, I feel really tired, so it's time to go.
I encourage Jason to stay. It is New Year's Eve after all. He should be here for the countdown. And the streets are full of people, I'll be fine walking home alone.
"But who will he kiss at midnight?" Amy teases.
Jason and I shrug awkwardly at the comment. His cheeks turn a little pink as he smiles at me. I bug my eyes out at Amy, but she laughs me off. I shake my head and say goodnight, then weave my way through the crowd.
As soon as I'm outside, I feel like I can breathe.