Abracadabra, Howls, and the Furry Guardians

Mr. Bashful and Miss Couldn't-Care-Less

Marika rose out of the water in her human form, amused by the noticeable blush that painted every inch of Tate's face and body. It was such an odd contradiction to see in such a large guy whose muscles looked like they could snap you in half.

How can he be so darn adorable?

The thought came out of nowhere, not allowing Marika to stop it in its tracks like she usually did. After all, that got her in this whole werewolf mess in the first place. If Marika hadn't been enamored by Tate's looks at that party, nothing would have happened. She would have still lived her peaceful ignorant life, and he wouldn't have been eaten up by guilt every time he saw how hard it was for her to adjust to the werewolf lifestyle.

It was a good lesson for young women to learn. It was a bad idea to get carried away by a mere look at a pretty face. Who in their right mind would get so cozy with a complete stranger? Marika did.

Things escalated quickly that night, and before she could even fully take advantage of the hottest make-out session she had ever participated in, she was already in the hospital, going through the process of becoming a werewolf with a very guilty-looking Tate by her side.

Instead of dwelling on what could have been, Marika refocused on the present, arranging her long hair to cover up her chest, giving Tate a break. Under different circumstances, she would have probably teased him about being so bashful. They were werewolves, for crying out loud! There was bound to be some nudity involved, but as it was, they had more important things to discuss.

"Like what you see?" Marika asked as she slowly moved toward where he waited for her on the shore, her silky white skin almost shining in the bright sunlight as drops of water dripped down her glossy hair, the color of which looked nearly golden in the sun's warm embrace, making her look like a movie star shooting her most seductive scene.

"You look like Viana, Goddess of The River, coming out of the river to bless us mortals with her presence," Tate said dazedly, his eyes wide open.

It was the strangest Marika had ever felt because she didn't really mind the nudity; in her home country, in the magicless part of the world, it was considered something normal, not something to be ashamed of or be bashful about; they were taught from an early age that humans were born naked and it was the most natural thing ever, liberating even after spending a day outside wearing all those masks that clothes were; yet, the way he gazed intently into her eyes, then her body, made her feel like she shouldn't have teased him in the first place.

She was trying to joke around, to lift the mood that became dour after he told her what they needed to do. Yet, she forgot he wasn't just any other werewolf, most of whom found it natural to parade around naked, especially if they had ended up accidentally tearing their clothes again. For Tate, it always seemed more uncomfortable when she was the one ending up in the nude. It made her wonder if that night had meant more to him than she assumed.

"Ahem, do you have some spare clothes for me?" Marika asked, trying to compose herself and the sudden change in her couldn't-care-less-about-clothes attitude.

"Yeah... yeah, of course," he said, hurriedly taking off a satchel that Marika didn't even notice he was carrying, throwing the clothes at her while deliberately looking the other way.

Instead of mocking him like she usually did, Marika said nothing and just took the offered pants and blouse, all very comfortable, and started putting them on. It was as if she had finally realized what his strange behavior could mean.

Could it be that he wasn't always around me because of pity or guilt? Does he actually have feelings for me? Is it possible that night was more to him than just a night he would regret for the rest of his life?