Chapter 1
The night air held a warmth like freshly brewed tea, deliberate and honey thick. The sun had long ago set, exposing you to a darkened sky with an ornamental moon. That light, of course, barely made it through the large oaks and logs. The underbrush pulled at your jeans, your legs, your arms, until they’d been reduced to pulp.
There was a stitch in your side, one that normally would have slowed you down. You weren’t much for sports, or physical exertion that didn’t’ have a clear end game. But this was different- the reward for dodging trees, and holes, and damp surfaces was your life.
You should have realized you were being stalked. The signs were all there; the hair standing on the back of your neck, the snapping of twigs and dead grass. The fear that shot through your body. Of course- you figured it was some college douche who had followed you from the library. Not an animal.
At least, you were pretty sure that deathly growl came from an animal. A thing with glowing blue eyes and dripping jowls. Granted, you hadn’t stuck around. You stupidly dashed into the woods, thinking that sticking to the side of an empty road was a dumber choice. Maybe the woods would slow it down- but it seemed to work as a crux.
When your front pushed against an ice-cold chain-link fence, a bit of relief came over you. This was it- you’d be set free from this little game of cat and mouse. At least your death would come quick, fingers wrapped around the metal, you panted in shorts spirts of condensation.
The animal was clearly defined against the color of the yellow moon. It was massive, trying to catch its own breath. Its fur was a pitch black, not just a trick of the light. But it’s eyes, its eyes were almost kind in their own way, an inner struggle.
A rumbling growl cut through any reprieve. Were wolves’ common practice in the state of New York? You were from the south, the air much warmer and wetter. The wildlife calmer until provoked. You hadn’t provoked this, nor did you think you’d survive it.
The wolf jumped onto you, large paws pushing into your collarbone with another stunned growl of dominance. A watery, blood-mixed drool moved past peeled back lips, exposing pink gums. The scent of damp fur and rotted meat filled your lungs. You realized you were whimpering- crying deafened by the animals’ movements.
The bite came with a blinding pain in the smooth expanse between the side of your neck and the top of your shoulder. You screamed until your throat burned, tasting of copper. Teeth embedded into your flesh, cracking your bones. The animal pulled away, letting out an earth-shattering howl in response- for a moment, your voices were in synch, mingling under the moon.
Pressure was flung off of you, the wolf that had tackled you to the ground, the one that had bit into you, was suddenly knocked onto its side. The silhouette of a bigger animal had pinned its predecessor to the ground, letting off a warning grumble filled with venom.
You weren’t stupid, you never had been. You clenched your eyes shut and played dead.
Pain erupted across your temple in tandem with your heart against your wrist. There was a cold wet feeling that engulfed you. It had snowed in the night, nothing big, nothing substantial, but cold enough to stir you from the muck and leaves that were encased around you. You’d been buried, or covered, at least.
The scent of the woods filled your lungs with every even breath you took. The light seemed too bright, the air too cold. Every nerve ending in your body stood up on edge, heightened with what you assumed was fear. You’d forgotten the wound on your shoulder, the blood that had frozen to your skin in an ugly brown, hard color.
Your bag was a few paces ahead of you, textbooks scattered and damp, the words running ink. Great. You’d be lucky if you could pawn them off by the end of the semester. It was a stupid thought to have. You’d been attacked, and the only thing that registered was the scent of wet paper and the inevitable donation of lofty books.
Your phone began to vibrate. The sound was deafening, you groaned, clenching your dirty hands to either side of your head. You could feel it in your teeth, eventually patting the ground until you unearthed it. The screen was shattered, but functional.
“Hello?” You rasped.
“Gracias a dios” America’s voice was almost as deafening as the cellphone ringing. You winced and pulled it away from your ear “Where are you y/n? MJ was two seconds from filing a missing person’s report with campus security.”
“I’m sorry, I fell asleep while studying. Tell her not to worry. I’m on my way home now.”
You hung up before she could feel through your lie. It had come so naturally. Your memory was murky, your bones tired. This was something a shower could cure, maybe an energy smoothie from the local coffee shop.
After shoving your textbooks and phone back into your bag, you felt your way along the thin metal fence until you reached a familiar road. You wish you had had the sense to do that last night. There was something in playing dead that actually convinced your brain that losing consciousness was okay.
Something was bothering you. A lot of things were, but the animal, the beast that had sunk it’s teeth into you hadn’t gone back to finish the job. Even if you were playing dead, something as cunning as that could tell the difference, right? It was all too much.
You snuck into your apartment and made a beeline to the bathroom before your roommates could get a good look at you. There were leaves in your hair, caked with blood and dirt, and maybe even saliva.
Dark circles rimmed your eyes, muck under your nails. You’d never been hit by a bus before, but you imagined this is what it would feel like, what it would look like. The hot water of the shower eased your nerves. Made the bite less intimidating. Small puncture wounds rimmed in an ugly purple bruise.
A sweatshirt hit most of the offenses. Not the pale skin, or your shaking hands. But it would have to do. You stalked into the kitchen and swallowed two glasses of spit-warm water. It was like you’d hadn’t had a drink in months, instead of a single night. It was then that MJ and America heard you as you filled up your third cup despite the ache in your stomach.
“Holy shit, you look like crap.”
“What the fuck happened to you?”
They both spoke at the same time. You finished the third glass of water, taking a deep, steadying breath. The world seemed to quiet, your ears still ringing. “Fell asleep at the library.”
“I’m not buying it.” America said, “Did some asshole from Delta Phi pull something? We can get campus security here right now.”
You held up your hand, “I appreciate the concern, really. Nothing happened. Just a long night. Campus police won’t do anything anyway.”
MJ pulled herself onto the barstool and folded her hands. She watched you carefully but didn’t’ say anything. That was enough for you, a small mercy in a storm of confusion. You pulled open the fridge, each scent blending into one that made your stomach clench. There was a Tupperware container of lasagna that caught your eye.
Maybe that would satiate the hunger that had been plaguing you despite the water you had downed. You used a fork to take two large bites of it, chewing wolfishly before America cleared her throat. “Dude… you gonna heat that up?”
You shook your head and took another bite, shoving the Tupperware back into the fridge. “Better cold. I have class. Love you guys!”
It was hard to miss the look they shared as you pulled on your backpack. America was the one who stopped you, her voice soft, words thick with worry. The two of you had known one another since childhood when she landed a close fingered hit to the center of Jace Cameron’s nose after he stole your lunch. There was gushing blood and a lot of tears, but the kid never fronted after that. He transferred schools after that year.
America could read you better than anyone else, and at this point in your friendship, so could MJ. All three of you had opened your acceptance letters together, crowded around a greasy basket of fries in a local pizza joint. It was all part of the plan, really, attend the same college, go to the same parties, become bridesmaids at weddings bound to happen.
Her touch was gentle against your elbow. “Y/n, you’re sure you’re alright? You look a little pale.”
“I’m perfect, really. Just tired. You’re still going to the Greek fundraiser tonight, right?”
She pursed her lips at the change of subject. Nodded at you before letting her hand drop to her side. It pained you to lie to her, really, it did. But you were technically exhausted. You didn’t’ know how to explain that your whole body was screaming different signals at you. That you were starving to the point of craving something raw and uncooked. That you had woken up in the woods after being bitten by a wild animal. It was all too crazy- even for America.
The party could be heard from across campus. It seemed that no matter how many cheap beers you downed, you couldn’t’ get the music to soften. Conversations cut through the liquid sound like a knife. You couldn’t focus, not really, on What MJ was saying, running her fingers against the golden belt that sinched a cheap bedsheet.
“Toga parties are so last century.” She mumbled, “I mean, it feels like appropriation, right? Damned if they’ve been dead for millenniums. It’s tasteless.”
It had taken you a painstaking hour to arrange the sheet in a way that wouldn’t aggravate the wound against your shoulder. It hadn’t slowed it’s trickle of red, having saturated your sweater by the time you came back to the apartment after your final class. You’d bandaged it well enough, and situated a clump of white fabric over the area, eyes darting towards it every once in a while, looking for a bloom of color.
So far so good.
“Yeah, but you have to admit, they’re kind of comfy. I could get used to this!”
You winced when a loud belly laugh moved through the crowd. The Delta men had just sunk another ping pong ball into piss-warm beer. They hollered like real primal beings. You frowned, leaving your cup on the mantel. Maybe a nice break is what you needed, a few breaths and quiet of the earth instead of the hot frat house.
“I need some air,” You leaned close to MJ, shouting over the music.
“Okay, do you need me to come with you?”
“No! You stay. America is up next for beer pong. She’ll kill both of us if we dip now.”
She nodded and watched as the competitive edge of their roommate flashed in her eyes. She leaned against the wall, judging the gall that the president of the frat had, taking a risky shot. A smile turned up the corners of her lips when the ball bounced off the rim.
A couple was making out on the porch, swallowing one another’s tongues. The sickly-sweet scent of stem-picked weed filled your lungs. You walked down the porch. The night was clear and cold. Woods surrounded the property, the small patches that were allowed by the city.
This place, you imagined, had once been vast and beautiful. It was filled with cookie cutter homes now, suburban housewives and a single street of fraternities and sororities. The further you walked from the house, the lighter you felt. No more music, no clinging scent of alcohol. The full moon lit your way clean.
There was a strange charge to the air that you didn’t’ quite understand. The night had always called to you like it did anyone else, the air sharper, easier to breathe. But this was different, just like most of the day had been different. You slowed your pace by the edge of a large patch of trees, your hair standing up on the edge of your neck.
Fuck.
There were eyes on you, that was clear. A primal type of fear flooded your veins. It had been stupid to stary from the party, no matter the sensory overload. MJ should be with you, even one of the frat boys sucking face on the porch would ease your nerves. You were illuminated by a deep yellow circle of streetlight.
You took a deep, steadying breath, squinting between the trees and the underbrush, and the fallen leaves. There was an urge to say hello, to call out, but you had seen enough horror movies to hold your tongue. Just like you had seen enough to run the evening before.
Out of instinct, you pulled a small travel sized canister of pepper spray, unlocking it. You'd never used it before, always feared accidentally unleashing it in a crowded bus or classroom.
Letting out a yelp, you swung your hand at air behind you, blushing with an odd type of nervousness. It looked stupid, you guessed, swinging wildly when nothing was really there. Except something was really there, and it grabbed your hand with an iron grip, pulling it back.
You screamed and released a stream of pepper spray right into your attacker’s face. She screamed too, releasing your hand and stumbling backwards, eyes rimmed red and teary. “Holy Shit, oh my god, Holy shit.”
Part of you felt bad, admittedly. She was tall and lanky and using the sleeves of her flannel to flush away the mascara running down her face. Her nose was running, black hair pulled into a ponytail except for a few wild strands.
“You pepper sprayed me,” she said with indignance.
“You were following me!”
“No, I wasn’t!” She shot back, blinking wildly “Okay, maybe I was- but God damn it!”
You let your shoulders drop in exhaustion. She sniffed, wiping the snot from the base of her nose. Her eyes were rimmed in a bright red. You’d never used pepper spray before, nor did you ever want to again. The scent in the air was thick and painful.
“Why were you following me?” You asked.
“I wanted to see if you were okay. You left the frat house pretty quickly. It was dumb. I’m dumb, I’m sorry.”
Your finger moved from the top of the pepper spay. You shoved it into your pocket, trying to search your mind for a familiar face in the crowd, bumping and grinding in nothing but dishtowels and white sheets. Of course, you were preoccupied by your own overwhelming senses to pay much attention to anything else.
She blinked a few more times before her vision cleared up. Her cheeks were still a ripe apple red. Under the waning moon, she looked pale and pretty. Her eyes were a startling blue, almost inhuman. You chalked it up to your fight method kicking in, though they sent a shock straight to your core.
“Are you?” She asked, voice strained.
“Am I what?”
“Okay? You didn’t’ seem to be. I went to that campus seminar about always having a buddy system. It was pretty informative. Made me paranoid, I think. But you looked overwhelmed.”
“I am overwhelmed.”
You didn’t think you would admit it that easily. Maybe it was the fact that she was a stranger, or that there was an instant warmth that surrounded her. It made you equally guilty for your actions, and intrigued by hers. You turned and started walking in the direction that you were heading, keeping from the sidewalks and to the small space where asphalt converged with cement.
She walked with you, side by side. There was height to her. You didn’t’ know where you were going but it eased your nerves with her there. “Do you ever make choices that don’t make sense?”
“All the damn time. Like when you look back on them, there were a million other options laid out in front of you. A million different variables and yet, you still chose the one that got you here in this moment.”
“Exactly.” You frowned “I got attacked by an animal last night, and I had a million chances to tell someone about it. To do something. But I haven’t. I ran into the woods instead of further into campus. I lied about being okay to two of my closest friends. I woke up this morning feeling… different. And now I’m telling a girl I just met all of this for no reason.”
She stopped then, and so did you. There was a stretch of cookie cutter homes in front of you, and the raging frat party behind. A neighborhood watch sign loomed behind your shoulder. A sprinkler kicked to life down the block, saturating the grass. You felt stupid in your sinched sheet.
“Let me guess.” She started slow, tentative. “You’re hungry, sensitive to light. To sound. Mainly smell? The world is screaming at you from every angle, and you don’t know how to get it to stop?”
“Yeah, something like that. How’d you know?”
“Great,” She whispered and continued on her walk. You watched her for a few moments before shaking your head clear and jogging to catch up with her. She had impossibly long legs.
“I was hoping I hadn’t bitten that hard.”
“what?”
“I get carried away sometimes. It’s the full moon. It has a hold. Clint says control comes with practice but I don’t have time for practice and now I have to explain all of this to Steve-“
You had jumped in front of her at this point, cutting her off in her words and in her strides. Your hand was heavy on her shoulder. The redness was gone from her stare. Her skin was scalding against the palm of your hand. You pulled back. “Slow down. What?”
The girl let out a long sigh “I bit you last night. I’m already feeling guilty enough about it. You don’t have to lecture me. I figured I could track you down, make sure you were okay.”
“Clearly not okay,”
“I’m gathering that.”
“What… are you?”
“An Aries.” She shrugged her shoulders. “And a werewolf.”