There comes a vital point in life where you're caught between a rock and a hard place, and perhaps faced with an imperative life or death decision. In my case, the rock is a senior football player turned rabid dog and the hard place is a lunatic I ran into in the woods, but the context isn't what counts. The matter at hand is that a life or death decision is starting to seem more like a death or death one.
If I step forward, trust that the wolf that paws the ground and snarls in warning is Vince and has the same control as him, then I risk becoming its meal. But the alternant of backing into the clutches of some demonic being would be equally as dangerous, and what's to stop the wolf from slaughtering the both of us.
So, that is my dilemma.
We arrive at an impasse; neither party takes action, rounding me like a merry-go-round. I keep my eyes on the wolf, somehow finding solace in his cerulean irises. He bows his head a bit, almost gesturing to the ground, and I wonder if he's trying to communicate. The wolf repeats the action with more urgency, his snout routinely pointing towards the ground.
I nod slowly and then count 1, 2, 3, before falling limp to the forest floor, my body lying flat against the leaves and sticks. The wolf leaps over me, now having open access the assailant. When I hear his snarls I quickly jump to my feet and run to the nearest tree, ducking behind for cover.
The wolf and the pale man are at it, clawing at one another with no restraints, fighting to the death. I'm marveled by the man's strength as he overpowers the wolf; it's inhuman. How could a man of his size - or a man at all for that matter - hold down a wolf the size of a horse with one hand? I gasp, disturbed when the man slams the wolf the floor, grasping it by the neck single handedly. The wolf whimpers in agony which tears at my heart strings. And I realize that I have to do something.
The stranger works to eradicate the creature by crushing its windpipe, causing the beautiful wolf whine. With the realization that this creature - Vince or not - is about to be slain, I lift up the nearest branch, long and thick, almost too heavy to carry, and I charge. I whack the man in the face and he recoils.
The damage is not nearly what I would have hoped, but the force is enough to free the wolf who flips onto his stomach once more and tackles the man. With a howl of fury, it bites onto the man's head and with a swift movement decapitates him effortlessly, tossing his head aside like trash. I scream, falling back onto my ass, cutting my arms up in the process. No blood or guts spill from the strange man's limp form. It's like he was a puppet all along.
I can hardly breathe and tears threaten to break through. The wolf turns on me and, instead of running for my life like I probably should, I lay still. I almost lose consciousness as the beast's hair retracts into its skin and it morphs into a very naked Vincent Blackwell.
It takes great control not to stare at his thick pecs and impressive manhood, even in a time where sex should be the last thing on my mind. He gazes at me with a concerned expression and my heart flutters. Even in a time of great peril, he manipulates my emotions like a ventriloquist.
"Are you alright?" He asks softly.
I shake my head urgently. "What the hell was that?"
"I'll explain everything once we're back on safer grounds," Vince tells me. "We need to get out of here in case more of them show up."
"There are more?" I ask, my voice unsteady.
He nods morbidly, pulling me into his warm chest. I feel my face heat up at the proximity with his lack of clothing. His skin is soft and comforting, and the mere contact drains all the worry and malcontent. "Um, you're naked." I tell him.
Vince rubs my back soothingly. "My clothes always rip when I shift," he says. "Let's get back inside."
We walk back to Chase's house, Vince not at all bothered by the snow on his naked skin while I have to curl into his side to stay warm. When we reach the terrace, I turn to Vince expectantly, questioning if he really plans on walking back into the house naked as the day he was born with my parents here. For some reason, it bothers me to think of someone else seeing Vincent naked.
He waits, concealed by the trees until Chase enters the woods holding clothes in his hands. Chase has a serious looks on his face and avoids glancing my direction. He and Vince exchange terse nods as he hands him the clothes.
Chase says "I told his parents he got sick and you're driving him home. His mother is talking with Garrett's mom now. Your truck is out front."
Vince nods and dresses quickly into almost the exact same attire he was wearing before. Chase hands him keys before returning to the party. It amazes me how they can go from joking around to all business so quickly. Especially when one of them was found naked in the woods with another guy.
"Follow me." He instructs.
We sneak around the house through the side yard, avoiding the party altogether. He drags me by the hand, but I hardly pay attention to my surroundings. The weight of reality begins to settle on my shoulders. I don't understand what I just what witnessed. Who was that man and better yet what was that man? And Vince killed him. How can he act so casual about that?
When we're seated comfortably in the cab of his truck, the heat turned up for my sake, I begin to tremble.
"What's happening?" I ask softly. "I don't understand what's going on."
"Jack, things in this town aren't exactly what they seem," Vince begins, his grip on the wheel is limp and lazy. He's not nearly as fazed as me. "Willow Lake appears to be a safe place but that doesn't come without protection."
"Protection?"
"We are the protectors of the city." He says. "Me and my family, our whole pack. We protect the town from the threats."
His family. His pack. Everyone at that party, could they all be wrapped up in this massive plot that involves Vince. Could they be the same monsters as him?
"What kind of threats?"
"Ones of the supernatural variety," Vince answers vaguely.
"So you're, like, a werewolf, right?" I don't comprehend how lame I sound until the words have already slipped out.
He laughs heartily. "Not exactly," he tells me. "We prefer to be called shifters. It's much less condescending and we don't like to categorize ourselves as monsters. We're here to protect the people."
Protectors of the people. That should improve the situation, right? He's not a monster, more like a guardian angel. With fur and fangs and the strength to behead a paranormal creature. The facts are tough to stomach.
"You're digesting this information better that I imagined you would." He says, impressed.
"I'm still not entirely convinced that this is any more than a hallucination of my own misery."
He chuckles at that. "I could prove to you that this isn't a dream," He proposes seductively. I notice we're parked outside my house.
Vince leans forward, his facing coming within inches of my own. I start to shiver, but the cold, for once, has nothing to do with it. When our lips meet, it is nirvana. I've never known such bliss, such pleasure. I could almost melt into his body and stay cuddled into his form for the rest of my life. It's like we were meant to be together.
Definitely not a dream.
When he pulls back, I groan in protest and he smirks. My face flushes in embarrassment, shameful of my newfound whorish tendencies, but rubs my inflamed cheeks with his thumb lovingly, his blue eyes never straying from mine.
"So if you are this supernatural creature, then what am I?" I question.
"A human." He answers humorously.
"What I meant to ask is, what am I to you?"
Vince isn't thrown at all by the question like most boys would be when having the 'define the relationship' talk. He grins softly; his mannerisms light my nerves on fire. "It isn't a matter of not wanting to tell you, Jack, but I can't overwhelm you tonight, or you might fly back to California just to get away from me. And I don't need to add tracking you down to my to-do list."
I have no response to that.
"All I can say is that you are the most important person in my life. In fact, you are my life - my world."
My heart leaps at the revelation. "I can't be," I tell him dejectedly. "You hardly know me at all."
"I know that your favorite color is red." Says he, raising his brows in childish defiance. "I know you have a little sister in elementary school who you care about more than you will admit aloud. And I know that you like to be alone even when I'd much rather have you by my side."
"That's not much to know about a person." I say, although my heart thuds like a bass drum.
"Then tell me more." He challenges.
"I should probably get inside," I tell him, even though I'd much rather stay in here and talk to him more. He nods in assent but seems disappointed by our parting.
I step out of the truck, immediately battered by the bitter cold of the night. But for the first since I moved here, it doesn't bother me much. The warmth of the kiss resonates on my lips like the burning ashes of firewood in the basin of a chimney. My fingers skim my still tingling lips and I sigh in content. But then a thought occurs to me.
I turn back and knock on the window of Vince's truck, still parked out front. He rolls down the window.
"How do you know where I live?" I ask. I had wondered the same thing when he showed up in my bedroom but I didn't have the opportunity to ask.
He looks serious. "Let's just say I've been keeping an eye on you. And tonight explains my motives pretty thoroughly."