Page 35 of Red

A thump outside the window makes my ears twitch, and then it happens again. Something is bumping into the glass, even though everyone should be gone. My claws come out and grip the wooden floor. Another thump. I can’t go to look without knocking everything over and jeopardize being seen.

I always thought hearing each other’s thoughts was more of a curse.

Stark’s inner voice makes me lift my head. Why the hell is he here? Does that mean others are here too? I don’t have magic scent to smell him through the wall.

I grip into the floor, and the splintering stops my heart. Curls of wood poke out from under my paws. Fuck. I slow my breath and still my entire body. My back is touching the bed, and my snout is an inch from the dresser along the wall. The fire in my limbs slows to an ashy burn. I can fight it when the moon moves further, but not until then.

Taking it a breath at a time, seconds turn into minutes. I would do anything for fresh air. I pull the warm air of the room in and fight the magic’s desire to stay a wolf. The shortest full moon ever.

My fur disappears, leaving me curled on the ground, nearly bare, on top of some of the inch-deep cuts of the floor. I move the rug right away, pulling it over the marks. It has a slight angle to it now, and I push the chair back away from the door. Glass breaks, and I whip my head to the window.

When I don’t see anything, I slide over to it, and darkness fills the entire space. A jagged hole drafts cold air through the middle of it, I unlock the window and twirl the handle.

Stark backs away from the house and scratches at the ground. I shake my head, and he lets out a huff, shaking his head back at me. He stomps his feet on the ground with more effort. He never has to practice turning back early on a full moon. I wonder if he even can.

My head sticks out the window, and he nods. I’ll just use the door. I back away, and a growl rips into the room. He doesn’t trust that I’m coming out. This is ridiculous, there’s a reason we’re supposed to communicate with thoughts. It’s not like he can talk.

I unlock the bedroom door and head outside to the back deck, barefoot. The coolness drapes over me like a blanket and eases some of the burning. Stark stands at the bottom of the stairs and I hold back a laugh as he stomps the ground again. Can’t say I expected this. I descended the stairs and look up at those blue eyes, vibrant in the moonlight. He nudges my shoulder with the end of his nose.

“What do you want?”

He walks off in the way he was looking, then stares back at me, flicking his eyes to the left once more.

“Fine. Where are we going?”

The snow on my bare feet is the best feeling I’ve had all day as I trail him around the house. Weaving between a few trees, we come to a small clearing I didn’t know about. A tall, cone-shaped pine shoots up in the middle.

Stark looks up and I do the same. At the tip of the pine, the moon rests like it’s balancing on the point. It’s bright in the clear night, fueling the fire under my skin, and I let it tip the edge —bracing the magic at the breaking point, just before I turn. I blow out a breath and close my eyes.

Stark’s shoulder brushes mine.

The moon’s energy buzzes around me, and I want to fall into it, to give back in. To communicate with Stark, with someone. There’s no one who gets it. They think I’m just a weak human, not trapped being something I’m not. All so they don’t want to kill me. More than half of them seem to want to kill me anyway, even without knowing the truth.

A howl comes from far away in the forest. Screw them.

I sink into the ground and the snow around me melts into a puddle. My tears join it my knees as the brokenness in my chest cracks open, and I sob.

I’m stuck like this. The moon pulls on everything we have —every emotion.

A large paw bumps against my knee as Stark lowers himself to the ground next to me.

Not to be a wolf on nights like these. In my favorite spot.

My head pounds, and I cry out into my hands. The flame in my chest grows into agony.

Warm wind?

I can’t let it consume me, so there’s no real release on nights like this. The pain adds to the tears. Magic crawls through my limbs, and I open my eyes to the ground. The snow’s down over a foot in a forty-foot radius now, water dripping off the center pine’s branches.

Fuck. I don’t even care, but I have to.

I look up at the moon and curse.

I get up and back away from Stark, leaving an odd-shaped grassy puddle.

He doesn’t move, but his eyes narrow to slits, as I turn to run, taking off for the house. I’m sure he’s behind me, but he won’t fit through the door. I race up the steps and into the house, down the hallway. Slamming the door, I lock it. What was I thinking? Hopefully he’s gone to join everyone else. He shows me this magical spot, and my genius self shows him the magic side of me. What a mistake, all for the comfort of someone.

I slip onto the crooked rug and lean my head against the bedframe, made of various woods pressed together, sanded down to still show the years of growth. I never should’ve gone out.