2: Trouble always lurks around

I almost jump out of my skin at the sound of the terrifying voice and I place a hand over my chest, trying to slow down my heartbeat physically, which went up after being startled by this other intruder.

“Who’s there?” I demand, my eyes darting around. My small voice was no longer as firm as it was when I spoke to the now-knocked-out fellow earlier. “Show yourself.”

At my words, the humongous, broadly built man steps out towards the dimmed light across the street, wearing a white, long sleeve shirt neatly tucked into his black trousers and despite the night, I can make out his formidable feature. His smouldering gaze and the confidence he possesses tell me one thing, he isn’t someone to be messed with.

I feel weak on the inside and I’ve never felt weak in anyone’s presence before. Not even douche bag Spencer. 

He looks older and though his age barely tells on him, I can tell from his stand and the way he walks that he’s had a fair amount of dealing in life. I can also easily discern that he doesn’t live around here, at least not from this environment. He appears too neat and carried himself with too much confidence and a hint of arrogance that I would remember if I have seen before. 

“You shouldn’t be outside unaccompanied, especially at this time of the night; I might not be around to knock the next guy out.” He scolds, his words stated matter-of-factly.

So I didn’t knock him out after all. I inwardly facepalm myself.

I glance down at his word, to see the man still unconscious and then back to him, my mouth once more ajar. How did he knock him out so fast without me seeing him? 

I have seen werewolves with their abilities during practicals at the academy, both young and old, and none of them was that fast.

Douche Spencer is one of the fastest and strongest young wolves amongst the final year student. His father, Alex, is the strongest werewolf in North Central, but this man right here would school him.

No one should be that fast, no one. Right? Right?

Maybe he’s a witch.

No, I doubt it. 

I gather my mouth close and search my brain for an intelligent response, even though none seems available.

“Well, thank you for knocking him out, but if you had paid a little attention to what was taking place before you rudely interrupted, you would have noticed that I had it all under control.” I wittily respond. Not liking the fatherly tone he just used on me.

“You think that weak fist you had clenched was going to do anything to him?” He demands, his voice going rigid and mean.

Honestly, I don't, but I prepared to go down trying.

When I remain silent, he scoffs, “That’s what I thought.” Turning around, he heads away.

I should have just closed my mouth and let him leave with his arrogant self and find my way home. But I already tolerate a smug-faced bully named Spencer at my school, and I don’t want to do that with this stranger.

“I didn’t ask for your help, you piece of shit, so you can keep your arrogant remarks to yourself.” I snap back, not liking the approach stranger number two had made in the last three minutes of his appearance into the storyline.

‘Oh shit, Jac, you shouldn’t have called him a piece of shit!’ The voice in my head trembles as the stranger halted... 

“What did you just call me?” 

He asked, halting. 

His voice sounds like the thunder that made the ground underneath my feet quake. 

He looks furious as he swivelled to me and his hands curled into a fist. 

My heart doubles in a beat, and my stomach tightens. I stumble backwards, trying to get away from him as fast as I could. Trouble stood before me, but I want to escape it.

I just stepped on the wrong wires and I knew things would not end well.

I have two options, one, get on my knees and beg or stand and wait for my death. I want to beg for my life because I love it, as imperfect as it was, and want to explore more of it.

‘If you save me from this, I’m going to pick my battles more wisely.’ I silently pray to the moon goddess, who has never answered my prayers before, hoping this time she would.

The man gets close and is about to grasp my arm when I hear mama call to me. My head spins in the direction the voice came from and I see mama in her grey pyjama and sweater hurrying towards me. I want to tell her to stay away for her good, but as I look back, I find no trace of the man who was about to harm me and I stand speechless.

***

“You did what?” My best friend, Kenneth Miller, ask as we set down our lunch tray on the table and take our seat and, like the idiot I am, I repeat what I just said. 

“I called him a piece of shit.” I pull open the pack of potatoes, which is what I requested from the lunch lady. 

“And you’re still breathing?” with every question he asks, his pitch somehow got louder, and his brown eyes gets bigger. 

“I didn’t know where he disappeared to,” I conclude.

“That’s strange indeed. Are you sure he was a werewolf? For all, we know it could be a human or a witch.” 

I shake my head vigorously. “No, a human wouldn’t have been able to do what he did. He knocked the creepy man out within a second and we barely have male witches in this town. No offence to you.” 

“Yeah, yeah, sure...” he gives an absentminded reply, which comes off odd. Usually, topics such as male witches in the North Central always sparked his interest and I wonder what makes today different. My eyes followed to where his had diverted to and I find none other than Indian Paulson, his mate. 

That makes sense. 

Ken has known India was his mate since sixteen when he first felt the stir of his werewolf gene. He felt drawn to her, almost like a charm, and the intense connection that he experienced whenever she stood close felt like no other. After his premier shifting over a year ago and his senses evolved, he came out to her, but she rejected him. She told him her mate, as seen by the town’s seer, would be an alpha wolf, not just any werewolf. 

The rejection scarred Ken, and for the few months that went by, I thought he would never come out of the immense pain and depression he went into. His mother, Aliyah Miller, one of the town’s greatest witches, expressed fear of losing her only son. She knew he was too weak for the immersed pain that he suffered and she realised he would die if she sat and did nothing. 

She consulted the witches’ coven seeking help and guidance but received none. They instructed her to let nature take its course with him. Despite their warnings, she cast a spell that subdued the emotional pain he felt. The witches, who grew indignant and disappointed that she had gone against their warnings, excommunicated her from the coven. They also placed a binding curse on her so she would never practise magic again.

With his mother’s spell, Ken regained enough strength to pull out of his pain and carry on slowly. However, every once in a while I would catch him longing for her. Today is one of those days when his yearning for her takes over and there is nothing that can change it. No spell can stop it.

“I get that your bond with her is still strong, but she has cost you so much pain and troubles, Ken, it’s cruel what you went through and you shouldn’t be gawking at her like she’s an angel, she’s a devil with no soul or pity.” 

“Hey! That’s my soul mate! And she’s no devil.” "

“She also rejected you.” I remind him what he seems to be forgetting. 

“Well, if she accepts me, mom’s spell will become void and the witches will accept her back to the coven.” 

I sigh and mutter, “Or you could just accept her rejection?” 

“You had a hard time moving on from Jack and he was just a crush!” he shoots back.

My cheeks heat and my mouth slam shut, thinking back to Jack Hilton, the guy I had a crush on last year and how I wanted him to be my mate. When his premier shifting finally happened a few months ago, he felt a strong connection for Irene, one of my rivals, who later became his mate. If I knew I’d have my heart broken, and my expectations cut short, I would have saved myself the heartache. 

“I guess, you’re right and I’m here for you always.” I rub his hand tenderly.

He seems less interested in replying and more interested in staring at India who is having a thrilling conversation with her two besties, Brittany and Gigi, without glancing at him. 

He recovers himself and wanders back to our first topic. He asks, “And you’re certain you’ve never seen him before?” 

“It’s a small town. I would know if I’d seen him before. Besides, I could tell he wasn’t from around here with the way he spoke.” I add, then gazing at Ken as if to find clues on his face, but he had none. I sigh, “Well, I don’t think I’ll ever see him again.”

With nothing else to talk about, I concentrate on my lunch and try to finish up as fast as I could, while Ken continues staring at India like it would magically make her accept him.

“Sup, Jac,” Spencer nudges my shoulder as he strolls over with his clique, more like minions Jakob and Quinton.

The potato in my mouth grows sour at the sound of his voice and the fork falls out of my hand, landing on the plate with the rest of my lunch. My heart skips a beat and my inside turns in a bad way.