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She doesn’t respond until I've led her outside the arena. "What's your address?” She flushes shyly. “That's if you don't mind me showing up."
What's the harm in telling her where I live? She doesn't know who I am and seeing my jam-packed one-room apartment would convince her that I’m a human.
And the thought of her in my bed instantly gives me a hard on, flashes of our first night together feeling like flickering flames. There’s so much more of her I want to explore. Taste. Devour.
My voice is husky when I respond. "I don't mind."
* * *
By the time I walk into my apartment, the sun’s already crawling behind the clouds and I know it’s another lonely night for me.
There are times I hunt at night, for wild animals or fresh meat in slaughterhouses. I know a particular butcher, Dave, who’d been employed to feed my family. After my pack was wasted by the High Ridge Pack, he ran out of business. I still remember the shock on his face when I walked into his abattoir weeks after the death of my family.
“No one could have survived that bloodshed,” was the first thing he said to me. Dave had seen the massacre. He had been there to deliver meat, only to see the torn bodies of helpless shifters and a realization that all was lost.
“I’ll make this right,” I’d said to him. “I promise you.”
Five years later, I’m no closer to that goal. First, I’m yet to murder the shifters who killed my family. Second, the High Ridge Pack is insanely impenetrable.
And to top it all, I’m currently falling for the enemy.
I sit on my bed and hang my head. It is impossible to deny what Adeline is doing to me. Right now, I miss her. It’s not even up to twenty-four hours after meeting her and I want her in my arms again.
She’s the very light that can banish the darkness in my heart. She jolts my static heart to life, as if I’ve been pulled out of a long term coma and her sublime face is the first I see. Filled with warmth. Pouring into the depth of my cold soul.
“She makes you happy. I can see it on your face,” Jacqueline had said to me in the car as I drove her to her apartment.
She’d done a great job pretending to be my grandmother but her pretense was also an avenue to ask me questions about Adeline. The conversation couldn’t be avoided.
“Yeah, she’s cool,” I mumbled.
“She’s a very nice girl too,” Jacqueline continued, looking out the window. “I wish I could attract nice people.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Whatever.” Jacqueline blew air out of her mouth. “You know you’ll have to be honest with her about your family. You’ll have to tell her the truth.”
I didn’t look at her as I replied. “I will.”
Now, it scares me that there is no escaping the truth. I’ve begun to develop feelings for Adeline and, one way or the other, I’ll have to tell her about what her family had done to me.
After I take a long shower, thinking about the beautiful female shifter who has now taken possession of my mind, I decide to surf the net on my laptop. It’s surprising the amount of information you can find on the internet, even information privy to a werewolf.
Just two weeks ago, I created a Facebook profile where I stumbled upon an account dedicated to the idolization of werewolves. I was amused by how much humans love to spread the belief that shifters existed and should be worshiped.
Quite ironic that werewolves are trained to be wary of humans when, in reality, a werewolf’s greatest enemy is another werewolf.
I re-read everything I have on the High Ridge Pack. The family owns most of the vast lands in the northern part of the city and controls several institutions that had once been headed by other packs.
One of them is the Alchemy Institution which had been created by the South Creek Pack to treat wounded or diseased wolves. The High Ridge Pack took control of it five years ago, around the same time they killed my family.
My pack wasn't the only pack they annihilated. These people are looters, taking everything in their path and making it theirs.
The familiar fury burns through my veins. How much does Adeline know about this? And if she doesn’t, what will she do when she finds out…
A notification pops up on my screen. It is a message from a texter named Grindelvi.Hello Luke H., do you want to play the Game of the Night?
I stare at the screen of my laptop for a while. Game of the Night? It sounds familiar, almost as though I had heard it somewhere before. Another message comes in again.You can play the Night Wolf and I’ll play the Lost Princess.
