Hunter and Ash rode quietly in the back of a rented silver SUV. A hired driver came with the rental and he was paid to drive them for the day. It struck Ash that he didn’t look much older than they were. He looked like he was in his early 20s. He wore plain dark clothes and had curly brown hair. She stared at the silver earring on his left earlobe as he drove on.
“You like guys with earrings?” Hunter asked. He grabbed her hand on the seat as he asked.
Ash turned to look at him, but his face was turned toward the window, staring at nothing.
[He’s jealous,] Ash thought.
It was an easy enough guess to make, but Ash didn’t guess it as much as felt it in his grip on her hand. He squeezed her hand just enough for her to notice, but not hard enough for it to hurt. It was the kind of grip that said, “Don’t forget, I’m here.”
Ash inched closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder. She rubbe
The maître d’lead the group to their table. Isabelle had earlierreserved a booth at the restaurantbutthe table was only set for three. The maître d’ subtly eyed Hunter and signaled for the server to set a place for him next to Ash. When the server had left, Isabelle went straight into the conversation. “So, tell us how this came to be,” she asked, referring to Ash and Hunter. Isabelle could hear herself and she cringed at her own formal way of speaking. It was a habit, the formal training from her house was deeply ingrained and hard to shake. She sometimes had to play hostess at some of her father’s dinner parties. It was the hostess’s job to keep the conversation going and make sure everyone was entertained. She didn’t particularly enjoy the chore when she had to do it for her father’s casual functions, but she was eager to take on the role at Ash’s birthday. She was particularly interested in hearing about the birthday girl’s new rel
Ash stared at the fresh red wound on her right arm. It was a thin red line, about three or four inches long. She held her left hand up to her arm and hovered over the wound: it was just small enough that she could cover it with her palm. Her hand was shaking as she held it over her arm. Both of her hands were shaking. She balled her hands into fists, forcing them down on her lap.She couldn’t stop staring at the cut.The violent mark on her skin looked almost delicate.If she stared at it just long enough for her eyes to lose focus, her vision would blur and the wound would look almost like a stray red thread from her shirt had just clung to her skin. But when she blinked and her vision would focus again, the red thread would be gone, and in its place would be an angry red line---a knife cut from her best friend.“It was an accident,” she said.Hunter pretended not to hear. The young driver kept his eyes forward on the road and hi
Isabelle and Celia stood facing each other under the awning at a pathway inside of their mostly-empty campus. It was a Saturday afternoon and most of the students had already left campus that morning for their flights home. Celia had been screaming, but there was no one other than Isabelle who was around to hear it.“I was hearing voices in my head while I was eating a steak,and suddenly I was knifing my friend. I don’t know what happened, Isabelle,” Celia screamed.Angry tears streamed down Celia’s face. She wiped them away roughly using the back of her hands. Isabelle stood quietly, measuring her words,holding back the ones that would send Celia over the edge.“You said something about a Master. Do you remember that?” Isabelle asked.“ . . . I don’t remember,” Celia said. Her green eyes were angry slits staring in Isabelle’s direction. She wasn’t angry at Isabelle, but she was
A man in a black suit was waiting for Ash and Hunter when they got out of the airport. He was a burly man in his late 30s, with wide shoulders, dark eyes, and short, dark hair. He looked like a spy sans the earpiece or some kind of formally dressed bouncer.The man raised his hand in the air, palm out, fingers straight, as Ash and Hunter approached. Ash wondered if it were a signal of some kind and her eyes darted from side to side, quickly scanning the road to see if anyone else was approaching. [Am I in danger? Is this some kind of safety signal?] Ash felt a little anxious but she kept her cool.When Hunter was within arm’s reach from the black-suited man, he raised his own hand in the air and heartily slapped palms with the older man. They were just giving each other a high five; Ash felt relieved.The man introduced himself to Ash as “Fernan.” He was their driver. Ash glanced at his hands and saw that he had tattoos on his knuckles: hearts,
The drive up to the main house from the imposing gate took about seven minutes: the pathway wound around a hill surrounded by vast open fields of grass before it snaked up a slope onto a carved stone pathway. It felt like the longest seven minutes of Ash’s life. She felt butterflies in her stomach, and even the butterflies were feeling dizzy. When they got out of the car, Ash stood in front of the doors of the largest house she had seen in her life. The driver peeled away and Hunter ushered her inside. Hunter carried Ash’s duffel bag on his shoulder as they walked through the main house, and she followed closely behind him. Up to that point, the largest house Ash had ever been in was the State Orphanage. "The House," as the residents had called it, had belonged to a wealthy couple who had left their estate as a donation to the government. The estate had included the family home, which the couple expressly provided in their Last Will and Testament was to be turned into a childcare in
Ash and Hunter lay beside each other on the soft guestroom bed.They kissed softly, quietly. Their kisses were gentle breaths and butterfly wings, soothing and delicate. The white bed was warm and safe, and as long as they lay together they could float away, kissing cool slow kisses.Hunter traced his thumb along Ash’s lips: her eyes were closed and she breathed softly. For a moment it looked as if she had fallen asleep, tired perhaps from jet lag. But then she opened her eyes and looked up at him.He bent toward her and kissed a corner of her mouth.“I’ve never been here before,” he said.“You’ve never been in your own guesthouse before?” Ash raised an eyebrow.Hunter laughed. “No, I mean, I’ve never been in this position before.”"Oh really?" Ash's voice went up just a little, one octave of jealousy singing in the silent room. You've never laid down in bed with a girl,
"She is like us, Papa. Like you, and me, and Grandpa," Hunter said to his father.The words hung in the air, punctuated by the clatter of silverware against porcelain.Silverio blinked twice, slowly. He turned to his wife: Lavinia met his eyes for a moment and then fixed her gaze down at the fork in the middle of her plate. Then he set his eyes on his son. He smiled at Hunter obligingly, the way one smiles when a well-meaning guest tells a boring story over wine and cheese. He returned to slicing his steak, almost nonchalant, as though he had heard something only vaguely interesting."Is she now?" Silverio asked without looking up from his plate."She is," Hunter answered, his gaze never leaving his father's face. His own plate was still untouched. He continued to hold Ash's hand under the table.Silverio chewed carefully on a piece of steak. He took a sip of water. He set the glass down and placed both of his hands on the table, palms flat."And how is she the same as you, me, and yo
The dark-haired woman hovered over the young girl, lying asleep on the bed. She smoothed the girl’s hair away from her forehead, whispering soothing words as she did. She felt the girl’s pulse and patted her hand. The girl was going to be fine, but a mother’s worry knew no end, even for children who were not her own.After Ash passed out in her chair, Hunter carried her out to the guesthouse while Lavinia followed behind her son. Ten, fifteen minutes went by and when Ash still did not wake, she sent her son to go to his father and promised that she would watch his guest.Hunter left reluctantly, squeezing the sleeping girl’s hand before leaving. The girl gave no indication that she felt anything.Lavinia looked closely at his son’s guest. The one he had referred to as his “girlfriend” but had not assented to the title. This was the first girl her son had brought to meet them.Ash was a blossoming young woman. She had the healthy glow of youth, with glossy black hair and smooth skin. S
Ash’s wolf eyes opened to see two girls cowering together on the bed in front of her. She could smell their fear distinctly: an acrid smell that caused her nose to twitch. The smell was emanating from these two girls and these two girls were her friends. She knew this in her heart. They weren’t prey animals.Ash moved to bring comfort to her friends, seeking to calm them. She opened her mouth to speak and a low keening howl escaped her throat. The sound seemed to reverberate around the room. The sound was monstrous and offered no comfort to the human ear.Celia screamed, afraid. Izzy, however, remained perfectly still. Her fear was still palpable but there was an underlying courage that kept her from swaying.Ash could sense an aura coming from Izzy. Something yellow, with lines of sky blue. It was warm and soothing.[Ash, please, Celia is scared. Please stop] A voice echoed in Ash’s head.[Izzy, is that you?] Ash thought.[Yes, it’s me. Please stop this.]Ash locked eyes with Izzy in
The silver-haired man looked like he was in his late forties, perhaps fifty years old at most. He had sun-warmed skin that contrasted with his pale blond, nearly silver hair. He looked like an outdoorsman in his denim jacket and worn gray jeans.“That’s Wendell Carson to you, my boy. Grandfather was an old life,” the silver-haired man replied with a half-smile.Hunter didn’t say a word. He did not know what to say. He only knew that he had said something he wasn’t supposed to say.The man turned toward the girls and smiled.“My name is Wendell Carson. I’m a wildlife expert from The Wolf Sanctuary in Mountain Range. In an old life, I was Hunter’s known grandfather.”Ash’s eyes widened. She had only ever heard of Hunter’s grandfather from Lavinia, Hunter’s mother. The story of him killing and eating Lavinia’s horses shot through her mind. Her heart beat faster and her palms began to sweat.Celia and Izzy merely looked on, confused.“You will call me Mr. Carson and that will be all. No o
In the middle of the first week back, the headmaster called all the students to the Grand Hall for an assembly. This was unusual as Assemblies were usually set for the beginning or end of term, and certainly not done mid-week.The students shuffled in at an early 7:00 am, with much grumbling and fidgeting.The Head Master looked out to his early morning audience and began his speech. He spoke first of preliminary matters, welcoming the students back from their holidays. After the brief niceties, a somber look came upon his face and he continued.“There are a few matters I will be addressing this morning that is of great importance to the Academy.First, I am sure that all of you have heard of the tragic incident that occurred over the holidays in the restricted area behind the school. It is true that a man was found thereon, but I would like to assure everyone that it was not a student of this school. Those of your peers who have yet to arrive from their holidays will be accounted for
Monday Morning: At lunch, the cafeteria was abuzz with chatter. It was the first day after the holidays and rumors were flying.Rumor 1: Apparently, a man had been found dead in the woods behind the school.Apparently, the man had killed himself and the body had been eaten by animals, leaving only his pecked clean bones. Others claimed it was one of the school staff that killed himself.Rumor 2: Celia, the new money girl, had apparently tried to stab the orphan Boots girl at the fancy restaurant in town. Her vulgar rich parents had paid off the orphan to not press charges, and apparently, that was why trailer trash Celia new money wasn’t back yet.Rumor 3: It appears that there was some truth to Rumor 2, as Hunter Guzman had suddenly seemed to take an interest in Orphan Boots.They had been seen jogging together at the quad in the early morning and they seemed to be chatting away. He also
Lavinia had a powerful aura about her. She was not a shifter, yet she was clearly the alpha female of the Guzman house.Madame Guzman was of average height, but she stood tall and walked tall. The hems of her flowy pants never creased at the bottoms. She never dragged her feet.Ash wasn’t sure if Lavinia was actually taller than her (she wasn’t) but the woman just seemed to stand over her, literally and figuratively.Lavinia spoke with authority and moved with a dancer’s grace. With her wavy black hair, curling softly about her shoulders, she looked regal: the rightful and noble queen of a castle. To Ash, even her name sounded fancy: Lavinia.And yet, Mrs. Guzman was also warm and motherly.“It’s not too tight, is it?” Lavinia asked.“No, ma’am,” Ash replied.Ash sat on the floor of Mrs. Guzman’s sitting room as the lady of the house braided her long dark hair. Mrs. Guzman herself had offered to do it. It had seemed so natural to sit at this woman’s feet and sink into the gentle grazi
Hunter was even more touchy than usual. He hugged Ash just before they entered the house. When he pulled the chair out for her at breakfast, he gave her a squeeze on her shoulders just before he sat down in his own chair.Lavinia glanced at her husband, speaking with her eyes. “Are you seeing this?”Silverio nodded, subtly.“Ash, come by my study after morning training,” Lavinia said, with a hint of a smile. Ash smiled back. She had an inkling that it was going to be about her suits, but she didn’t want to say anything. She was excited but she didn’t want to jinx it.***Ash stood in Mrs. Guzman’s reading room. There was a pile of leather-bound books on the mahogany writing table, a bowl of crystals, and two sets of cards. Ash looked around, trying to find the package that contained her new suits.The door opened and Mrs. Guzman came in with a large black box.“Don’t you just look excited?” She teased Ash.Ash got dressed in the adjoining powder room and emerged. She wore a set of dar
When I woke up that morning, I felt like the world was finally my oyster. For most of my life, I endured pain. When I was little, I suffered through the pain of rejection. I was already “too old” when I arrived at the Orphanage. Most couples wanted babies or toddlers: too young to know that they were abandoned, easily raised and molded, no need to tell them where they really came from until they were adults themselves. We were taught to appeal to the visitors. We were to stand in a line at the doorway to greet them and smile when they walked past. We were to stand in lines arranged according to height and sing a song about how sad it was to be a child alone in the world. The visitors were allowed to cry, but we were not. We were told to smile and play. We spoke only when spoken to. We were not to speak of our parents. The guests could say whatever they wanted to us. They could promise us new toys, good food, a new home, a new hope of belonging: we were supposed to smile and act shy.
Two weeks into the holidays, Ash could feel herself getting stronger.Every meal she ate at the house was the most fabulous meal she had ever eaten in her life. Everything was fresh and delicious, many of the dishes were ones she had never had before. She used the softest towels on her body and slept in the biggest, softest bed she had ever slept on.The Guzman’s refrigerators were the most wondrous things she had ever set eyes on. Double doors, a built-in ice maker, and each one was always full of food. If she wanted a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich with olives and feta cheese at ten in the evening, she could have it. There were bottles of sparkling water, infused water, and even alkaline water.The casual abundance of their home was both comforting and exciting.The training was hard, but her body seemed to recover fast. Her days were filled with training and grand pockets of leisure in between. She had full use of the family library, and in
The next few days revolved around training. There was an hour of running in the morning, an hour of weight training in the afternoon, and another hour of running in the early evening. The household staff had returned and there was a semblance of normal in the Estate. Apparently, none of the staff, with the sole exception of Fernan, knew that the Master of the house and his son were werewolves.“What would happen if anybody else knew?” Ash asked, early one morning.Hunter’s head was buried between her breasts and he looked up at her with a dazed expression in his eyes.“Huh?”Every morning before their daily run, the pair had taken to making out in the bedroom almost immediately after waking. It was very difficult for Hunter to keep away from Ash at night, but he abided by the most important rule and did not share Ash’s bed while she slept. Every morning at the crack of dawn, however, he would barge into the bedroom and