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“Alicia.” My name in Ranger’s smoky voice cuts through all of the noise of the gathering. He can’t have said it loudly—he’s watching me from across the yard, a drink in hand, but although Dan and a few others are near him, they aren’t looking at Ranger or reacting to what he says. As if they can’t even hear him when he tells me, “I love your tits. And your ass. And your big heart.”
A heart that swells even bigger after that. “I love you, too,” I whisper.
His hot gaze runs from my head to my toes, then Dan says something to him and he looks away—leaving me filled with so much sweetness.
The same feeling that’s filled me for weeks now. Being with Ranger has been simply amazing. Not just the sex or him loving me, though those are also incredible—more wonderful than anything I’ve ever dreamed.
But it’s more than that. After the trip to Aspen, terror and despair ruled my life for so long. With Sam helping me, I got through as best I could. But I wasn’t doing so well. My sister knew it. I knew it. Obviously Maria saw it, too. Everyone who cares about me noticed. Ranger told me that it was what made him push harder for a transfer, but that he would have come with or without a job…because he thought I was sick.
And I was sick. But the cure ended up being something I never expected—not becoming fully human again, or even taming the beast. What’s helped me most is learning to be comfortable again in my own skin.
Just like Ranger is. And Brandon, too. Being around them, seeing how the things that terrified me were so normal for them changed how I look at myself. The hunger that used to scare me, the shame of eating so much—it’s nothing now. It’s just simply what my body needs. The strength and speed that made me fear hurting someone, that never let me forget how fast and strong the monster who attacked me was—they’re fun now. Almost like having superpowers, and I’ve spent more time testing their limits. My heightened senses of hearing and smell were often so overwhelming and confusing, to the point where I just blocked them out…well, sometimes I still do block them out. And when I don’t, they can still be overwhelming. But Ranger’s been helping me adjust to those changes, too.
So I’m not as afraid of myself anymore. And although I haven’t tamed my beast, I don’t fight her as much, either. I don’t need to fight her. Because more and more, she feels like I feel. Or maybe I feel like she does. I’m not sure there’s much of a difference, one way or another.
Except I haven’t changed forms again. I’m still afraid of that—and of how much it hurts.
Soon I won’t have a choice, though. The full moon is coming up in less than a week. I’d be a liar if I said that didn’t scare me, too. Because although I’m more comfortable with my beast…I hate not having control over my own body. And I hate not knowing where I’ve been or what I’ve done. I’m not as worried as I used to be, because I’ve begun to trust what Ranger said about my beast not hurting anyone—and he also promises to stay with her. But I want to be with him.
I’d like to be with him now. Becoming a werewolf didn’t make me any less awkward during social gatherings. Luckily, I figured out how to get through a party a long time ago.
Maria already nixed my favorite route: keeping myself busy by helping out, so that I’m not simply holding up a wall with a drink in my hand. I head toward option two, instead: watching whatever form of entertainment that’s provided, which gives the appearance of being engaged with something, even if it’s not other people.
Today, the entertainment is at the pool. Aside from the parents in with their toddlers, Samantha and Brandon are the only adults swimming. It’s so weird, what’s going on with them. I’m not sure if it’s a competition or friendship or both. And I don’t know how Brandon got past her defenses. Because she’s got guy friends, especially in the sheriff’s department, but I haven’t seen her this unguardedly happy with someone in…forever. Maybe with me. But I can’t pick her up and toss her halfway across a pool, so that she comes up sputtering and laughing.
Or I couldn’t pick her up. I suppose now I could. But won’t. It’s just odd that she’s letting Brandon do it.
I exchange small talk with some of the parents watching their young ones, and respond to a few “Hey, Miss Simmons!” from students—then oof, I totally blow option two. Because Sam sees me and swims over to the edge of the pool, stealing my water bottle and draining it before giving me a quick, concerned look. “Everything okay?”
