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“The life you had died in the woods with Stephen, but you can keep some elements. Turning doesn’t get you fired.” He paused. “Might get you hired, actually.”
“I can’t be a werewolf,” I continued. “The more I think about it, the more certain I am. Why can’t the Otherworld accept me as I am?”
“Give it time,” he said, patting my knee. “Talk to Mrs. Finn. It ain’t so bad.”
“I’m happy as a human. I’m happy being me.”
His sigh was about as large as mine. “You’ll be killed.”
“Okay.”
Confusion knit his brow. He leaned away. “Okay? Marcy—”
“Life’s more than having a heartbeat, Caelan. I’ll fight for what I’ve created here.”
He frowned. “Mighty grim future ahead.”
“Says the reaper.” I crossed my arms. “At least I can plan for you. My family never stood a chance.”
“What happened to them?”
“A werewolf.” My mouth snapped shut. A sense of finality washed over me. I didn’t mean to cry but I couldn’t stop, either. Sharing the truth made me realize how terribly lonely the secret had made me over the years.
Caelan rubbed my knee, stayed with me a few minutes before excusing himself to retrieve tissues from the bathroom.
“I’m sure you’ve spent nights and days wishing they were alive and not a memory,” he said upon returning. “Trust that they’re happy you survived, Marcy. You’re a survivor. Death isn’t what they want for you. If it was, you may already have met me, or more likely one of my predecessors.”
“I’m not changing my mind.” I dabbed at my eyes, glad I’d opted for the waterproof mascara. “Still gonna do everything in your power to protect the walking dead?”
“Begging your pardon, Miss Davins, but I will convince you to run. Until then and failing that, I’ll do what I can to keep you human.” He stood with a faint smile. “Nevertheless, I am mighty sorry for ruffling your feathers. How can I make it up to you?”
I set the tissues aside. “If you’d asked me three glasses deep, I’d have declared I want to unlock my wild side, to experience unbridled passion and marvelous adventure, something, anything, different than work all day, go to bed tired and wake up the same.”
“You got that.” He paused. “Somewhat.”
I scrunched the nearest throw pillow. “Yeah, well, turns out I can live without the marvels and by extension I can cross ‘adventure’ off the bucket list, too. Missing a wild roll in the hay, but you're the only person I know worth sending a naked picture to, so that’s out. Not that I ever would. Definitely won't, don't you worry.”
He opened his mouth, closed it, then settled on, “All I want is to keep you alive. You, however, seem determined to become monster bait.”
“I’m a victim. Either I die by a murderer’s claws or the wolves you run with.”
He paced the length of my coffee table. “Why aren’t you more afraid?”
“I’m terrified,” I admitted. “But I was raised beside a pack of werewolves and not until the past few days have I considered them anything other than decent neighbors. I’m scared of monsters, Caelan, not people or werewolves or death. If you want to scare me into running, try harder.”
“Well, alright,” he said with a crooked smile and open hand. “Move on in, Miss Davins.”
Pulse hammering, unsure which of us would regret tonight more, I set my hand in his like a singed moth returning to the flame.
Caelan pulled me up and against his body, held my waist to keep me balanced and at that delicate curve of contact and in the roughness of his palm I felt a shift toward chaos, as if the first iron coil had broken from Fenrir’s chainlinked paw. I lost my voice. His grip tightened, anchored in a reality I was still coming to understand. Amber eyes found mine.
Quick as he came on, the wolf retreated. “Shit,” Caelan said, glancing away. “Sorry.”
I took confused step after him. “What?”
He started laughing. “‘Can you turn someone with a kiss!’ My God, Marcy, that really tickled me.”
“Wow,” I said, grateful for the break in tension. “And I almost spilled my guts to you.”
