I purse my lips when she looks up, wiggling her nose at me. “You were the goofiest baby.”
“Here we go with me being goofy again,” I grumble, handing her the water. I sit next to her, laying a kiss on her shoulder. She’s examining every stupid picture of me and my brothers.
This is the ‘public’ photo album, the one I wouldn’t worry about anyone seeing. The one with pictures of my brothers and I as pups, wrestling around on the lawn behind my parent’s house, is kept at the estate. It’s not as if it would even be that difficult to explain. We’d just have to try to explain why we’d kept four huge, wild wolves as pets. My mother might be able to come up with something. She’s a shifter too, of course. Except that now in our older years, our parents only shift at the moon, and then only on their own. At the full moon, my brothers and I run wild in the woods behind the estate while my parents lock themselves inside. I always thought it was a little strange but they say it’s because they’re older. My dad likes to joke about having sown his oats. He and my mother have a ‘shifting shed’ in the back, outfitted pretty luxuriously with bones and hides and fresh meat to keep them busy when they wolf out.
“My running days are over, my boy,” my father once told. “Bad knees.”
Parents are strange, I suppose. Most especially shifter parents.
I wish I could share all these things with Michelle but instead I only sigh and rub her back, enjoying this one amazing evening with her and the parts of my life I can allow myself to share.
“Aaron,” Michelle says, her arm curling around my waist. She fixes me with a serious gaze. “I know how you feel about keeping work separate from your personal life and… I want you to know, I don’t expect anything beyond this. I just mean, I’m a big girl. It’s not like I think we’re dating now.”
I stroke her hair and the tiny part of me that is actually a little insecure on occasion wonders if she’s not as into me as I thought. But I can’t help remembering all those stolen looks and the way she focuses her attention on me when I talk. She asks me about myself as if she truly wants to know. It’s not as if a woman as sexy as Michelle needs to do a lot of work to get a man in bed either. It was definitely more than pure lust, I reason.
But sadly, she’s not wrong. We’re not dating now. This was a mistake. Or at least that’s what I’m supposed to think. But I don’t. I find it impossible to think that way about Michelle. I want to tell her not to leave my bed.
“I like you,” I say, and it doesn’t feel like nearly enough. “I didn’t just want to bed you, Michelle. I…it’s difficult for me to explain but you and I can’t-”
“Don’t try to explain it if you can’t.” She presses a finger to my lips. “It’ll only hurt more.”
“I wish things were different.”
“Me too.” She kisses my chin, my cheek, my mouth and I kiss back, keeping her there. The kiss makes me ache.
But all I can manage to say is, “I’m sorry it’s…”
“It’s okay. It’s one amazing night. I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“Me either,” I murmur.
“It’s a stupid rule though.” She leans over to pick her shirt up off the floor and I resist the urge to tell her to lay down with me in bed again. Her hair is all swept over to one side as she braces on her hand, smiling a little sadly down at me. She sighs and puts on her shirt. I wish I could take a picture of her right now. “In the interest of one amazing night though, I think I’m gonna go. Before it gets any trickier. I’ll just Uber.”
Don’t go.
It’s on the tip of my tongue but a lifetime of the rules of our clan having been drilled into my head instead makes me say, “I’ll see you at work tomorrow, I guess.”
It’s already about two in the morning so by tomorrow, I mean today. It’s strange to think we’ll both be cleaned up and suited for work in just a few hours, smiling stiffly at each other under the unforgiving flourescent lights of the office, filling up our coffee cups, and pretending we weren’t just making love like the world was ending.
Michelle is already dressed, her purse in hand. She’s making her way to the door and impulsively I roll out of bed and pull on my jeans, scrambling to follow her. At my front door she turns around and I press her against the wall, kissing her deeply. Everything changes in the morning. For this one moment, I can have my fill of her. I nuzzle her neck, inhaling her scent, the warmth of her skin. I can still smell our sex all over us. My senses are powerful enough that I might still smell it in the morning.
“See you in the morning,” Michelle whispers.
“See you in the morning, gorgeous,” I say, stroking her cheek.
Michelle looks like she’s about to cry and I clench my jaw, nodding tightly. I have to shut it down before it gets to be too much. She squeezes my hand and then she’s gone, out the door.
I don’t watch her walk away. I shut door and lean against it, sighing heavily.
A normal person would probably be sleepy and sated after such a rambunctious sex session but I’m only more riled up this close to the full moon. I know I’m not going to sleep. It’s lucky for me that I have more stamina and energy than a human. Instead, I take a shower during which I jerk off twice (like I said, I’m not sated). It pains me to wash Michelle’s scent away for the most part, although a little bit will still linger, haunting me like a ghost that I can’t help but love. I make myself busy; shave, brush and floss, and dress in clean sweats and a t-shirt. I’ll probably get to the office early.
I turn on the TV in an attempt to distract myself and tidy up the bedroom. The sheets will definitely smell like her--like us--for a while and I’m not going to wash them until I have to. Instead I throw dirty laundry in the hamper.
I find her bra on the floor.
It makes me chuckle. She must have been much more distracted than she was letting on if she left without her bra. It’s a peach lace thing and I chew my lip, debating what to do with it. Maybe it’s selfish of me, but I decide I’ll let her remember it. I lay it across the nightstand on the other side of the bed even though the sight of it pains me.
I’m so full of energy, I end up scrubbing down my kitchen, listening to podcasts. It does actually help. When I’m done with that, I’ve got nothing left to do. I sit around watching random shows on Netflix for a couple of hours. I go to my bedroom just to hold Michelle’s bra in my hand for a minute, more than once.
When I can’t take it anymore I make breakfast even though it’s about four in the morning. I make myself a loaded omelet with anything I can find in the fridge. I’m nearly out of meat. That was a mistake. But I do have a little bit of beef that I mix in to the eggs with some cheese, peppers, and mushrooms. It’s not bad. I put a true crime podcast on again, and eat as I pace around, opening the blinds to look out on the small city below.
I’m sure I’d drive Michelle crazy if she saw me like this. I’m like a college kid on Adderall.
By six-thirty in the morning, I’m sitting at my desk at work which isn’t as terribly early as I thought I’d be. I throw myself right back into the Weinbart account, images of Michelle--soft and then firm and then pliant and then aggressive--drifting through my mind.
Now I’m impatient for the full moon and the shift. I’m going to need that chance to run wild in the woods and work off all this pent up energy. A shifter’s life is not easily managed.
I focus on work and as morning becomes something I recognize and the numbers tick by on my screen, I feel a bit better; more settled. I listen to music and click into my routine as the early people come into work, looking surprised to see me here already. I work hard but I never show up before about eight-thirty.
“Did you get laid?” I startle at the question. Todd, our incredibly annoying HR guy, is suddenly leaning on my desk. I did sense him coming but I tried valiantly to ignore him because Todd is only ever worth ignoring.
He has the reediest voice.
“Why would you ask me that,” I mutter, keeping my eyes on my lapt
op. “Kinda busy here. Do you need something?”
“You look like you just got a taste of something sweet.” He cackles and tosses me a wink. He’s just kind of a douchebag. I wouldn’t care so much except that I’ve seen the way he overtly stares at Michelle and as much as I know she wouldn’t go for a guy like Todd in a million years, it brings out my possessive nature. “Tell me the truth, buddy,” Todd says in the low voice. “Was it Michelle? We’re just guys talkin’, you and me. Did you get a taste of that ass because I swear to God, if I did-”
The wolf takes over for a half a second. Not enough that I actually turn, but suddenly I’m standing up and clutching Todd’s jacket lapels in my hands, growling in his face.
“Holy shit,” Todd mutters.
“Don’t. Talk. About Michelle. That Way.” I bite out the words, my lips curling up and revealing the canines that are already unnaturally sharp.
Todd swallows. I could shift and tear him to pieces if I felt like it.
But that might be overkill.
“Okay…” Todd looks like he’s about to wet his pants.
“It’s disrespectful,” I say, practically spitting in his face.
“Y-you’re right. My bad, man. I won’t even look at her!”
“See that you don’t.” I let him go and Todd dashes off so quick, I’m surprised there’s not a plume of smoke behind him.
It takes me a good ten minutes to calm down.
This is going to be a very long day.
Chapter Five: Michelle
I dream of wolves. I don’t often dream or I guess I should say, I don’t often remember my dreams. But for the few hours of sleep I get after leaving Aaron’s place, I dream of wolves. They’re huge wolves though, bigger than they should be. Not that I know much about wolves. I dream of them running in a forest, the dark foggy forests outside of Quinton, I suppose. Three of the wolves are sort of indistinct, but one of them is black with a white belly and his eyes are a familiar arctic shade of blue. In my dream, they run for hours. I can feel their freedom, the sense of peace as the cool wind blows through their thick fur. They seem familiar to me somehow. I feel as if they’re protecting me, especially the one with blue eyes.
I wake up and for a moment all I can think of is that strange and visceral dream. It’s a good minute as I reach over to turn off the alarm on my phone until the night before comes rushing back to me. As much as it stung for Aaron to confirm that it was only one night, I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t regret a thing. All I can do now is smile as I stretch in bed. If I close my eyes and concentrate for a second, I can still feel him inside me, smell the scent of a powerful and gorgeous man on top of me with no other thought but making me feel good. That wasn’t too bad.
By ‘not too bad’ I mean it was definitely the best sex of my life. Which is not to say that I haven’t had good sex in my life. But this was something else. Even the messy pounding in the bathroom blew every other experience out of the water.
Anyway, I figure I might as well enjoy the memory now, because I know that despite how much we do like each other and have agreed to keep things professional, it’s going to be awkward at work. That’s inevitable. Although given how much passion exploded between us, I have to wonder if we’re actually going to be able to keep our hands off each other. As much as I initially never intended for this to happen because of exactly how complicated it would make our professional relationship...I really don’t care now. I know Aaron respects me as his colleague and I know he’s my boss but...those orgasms though.
“Aren’t you running late?” Luna knocks on my door.
“Yeah! I’m up!” I holler back as I roll out of bed, rubbing my eyes. “Thanks!”
I groan as a wave of nausea rolls through me when I stand and in the bathroom I almost don’t make it to the toilet before I barf. It’s sort of surprising. I didn’t think I drank enough to get hungover. I certainly didn’t feel that drunk. Although it was a dive bar and I drank a couple beers on tap. Maybe there was something bad in it. My head feels okay though. Just a bit of nausea. I’ll have to get some grease in my stomach for breakfast.
I’m in the shower, relishing the comforting heat of it, when I realize I feel just a little bit different. It’s not just the nausea, it’s something else I can’t put my finger on. The feeling attaches itself to me like some phantom appendage as I dress for the day and blow-dry my hair. I didn’t get nearly enough sleep and I head straight for my coffee thermos when I get out to the kitchen where Luna is bopping around, making breakfast.
“You had a late night,” Luna says knowingly as she flips bacon. “Heard you come in at what? Two?”
I pour the thermos full, drink a few big gulps black, and refill it again before adding sweetener and cream. “Yeah,” I say. I glance up at her, screwing on the lid of the thermos. “Maybe so. What of it?”
“What of it?” Luna raises her eyebrows. I’m well aware that I’m talking with my ‘I’ve got a secret’ voice and she knows something is up. “What kept you out til two? Or should I say who?”
“I had a…” I take another sip of coffee. My stomach rumbles and my mouth waters at the sight of that bacon. “I had a drink with a business associate.”
Talk about burying the lede.
I feel a weird combination of exhaustion in my bones and some energy coming from I don’t know where, maybe it’s the giddy excitement of having been fucked so well and thoroughly that I now find myself considering recommending Aaron for sainthood.
“Gimme some bacon,” I say, grabbing some from the heap on a plate that’s already done.
“Hey!” Luna bats at my hands but I steal some anyway. “Get a plate and some eggs and toast, you animal.”
“Yes!” I say. “Eggs! Eggs and toast would be so good!”
Luna sits me down and serves me a big breakfast with extra bacon at my request. It’s weird. I’ve never been one of those bacon people, but I’m craving meat today. I wonder if it’s some kind of hormonal thing. I practically growl as I tear into the bacon.
“Holy shit,” Luna mutters, watching me. “What’s got into you? You don’t even like breakfast usually.”
I swallow and wash the bacon down with orange juice. “I have no idea but I’m starving. Wow, this is so good.”
“So, this business associate of yours,” Luna says, kicking me under the table. “Can I assume he was tall, buff, and devastatingly handsome? Answers to the name Aaron?”
“Maybe,” I say, wiggling my eyebrows.
“Girl!” Luna says. “You got some, didn’t you! I should’ve known. You’ve got that satisfied look about you. Tell me!” She rubs her hands together and leans forward on the table. “Tell me, tell me, tell me! Please! Did it happen?”
I take a sip of coffee and smack my lips before leaning forward and looking in Luna’s eyes. “Luna,” I say. “If they gave out a Nobel for sex…”
“Ooooh!”
“He should win it,” I say. “Or maybe we should win it together. I don’t know. Either way. It was phenomenal. I think I ascended to another plane of existence at one point. Wow, this bacon is so good. I think the grease is helping my hangover but actually, it doesn’t really feel like a hangover? I don’t know-”
“Forget the hangover!” Luna says, pounding the table. “So are you guys…?”
“We’re not dating,” I say carefully. I wonder if I’m sounding casual about it. I’m trying to which probably means I sound like I’m trying to which is giving me away. “He doesn’t want to date a co-worker. That’s all. It was one crazy night. And now…”
“That’s it?” Luna says, eyebrows jumping.
“That’s it,” I say nodding. “We’ll keep things completely professional. Even though…”
“Even though what?” Luna prods.
“I think he’s really into me,” I mutter before devouring two slices of toast.
Luna only watches me, seemingly impressed by the speed at which I’m destroying breakfast today. Everything tastes
especially good too. I wish we had some good fresh fruit too, like strawberries...oh my God strawberries...also, steak.
“If he’s into you, why aren’t you dating?” Luna says, throwing up her hands. “You’re eating so fast, you’re going to get sick, you know.”
I’m plowing through my eggs as if it’s a race.
“I’m hungry.” I guzzle my coffee. I’m going to need more. “I don’t know. It wouldn’t bother me but Aaron has rules about dating somebody from work and I didn’t go into last night with any other expectations beyond that. So it’s not like he played me or something. But oh!” I clutch my heart. “I saw pictures of him as a little boy!”
“Uh oh.”
“Luna, he was so precious,” I say. I smile to myself thinking of Aaron and his brothers in their preppy little boy outfits, throwing a football around on the lawn of the big estate. “Precious and rich, by the way. Holy cow. His family photo album looks like a Ralph Lauren ad.”
“Oh…” Luna grimaces. “He’s rich? Hmm.”
“What?” I say. “What about it? So what if he’s rich? It’s not as if I like him because he’s rich?”
“No, of course not,” Luna argues, gesturing all over the place. She often talks with her hands. She’s knocked over drinks while talking with her hands a few times. “I just mean these rich families, sometimes they have weird rules about who their kids end up with. Aristocracy.”
I know Luna well enough not to be offended by what she’s saying. It only makes me snort a laugh as I scarf down the rest of my eggs while already looking forward to lunch. “Aristocracy? Good Lord, Luna, this isn’t a Jane Austen novel. They’re just, ya know...well to do. I doubt they’d disapprove of me because, ya know, I walked to Mr. Darcy’s in the rain and got my hems muddy.”
Luna cackles at that. “Oh my gosh, what if Aaron has a sister like Caroline Bingley?”
“He doesn’t,” I say, but the thought makes me laugh. “He just has three brothers. And he’s the youngest.”
Aaron's Mate Page 4
