Her eyes are green.
Lush.
Vivid.
They gaze up at me, eager to please.
The gasp that she incites from within me is short—sharp—choked off by a throaty groan as my cock disappears down her throat.
Heat envelopes me, sending sparks straight into my groin and yanking my abdomen taut.
Her tongue swirls around my head and I fight the urge to buck my hips—to fuck her face—but shit...
I need more.
Her hand grasps me tight, stroking my shaft to the rhythm of her sucking, which has steadily increased in tempo.
I'm not going to last...
I wrap her hair around my fist and tug. She moans, her instant arousal filling my nostrils and fueling my desire. Her mouth vibrates around me, bringing forth a new sensation I know is sure to become addicting.
"Evie, stop," I grunt. If I'm going to shoot my load, it's going to be buried deep between her legs.
Her eyes are green.
Lush.
Vivid.
Confused and hurt.
She doesn't understand...
Doesn't know she did absolutely everything right...
But I'm going to make sure she does.
Swooping down, I force her back to the floor. My lips capture her's, an erotic dance of dominance we like to play but she won't win this time.
Her legs wrap around my waist, positioning me in the only place I never want to leave.
Her folds are wet—slick with her need... but I'm not playing today.
I lift her hips...
A single thrust and I'm in...
I don't wait for her to adjust...
Not this time...
"THEON!"
With a gasp, I am wide awake.
Drenched in sweat, I try desperately to catch my breath which seems to be running in the opposite direction, far, far away from me.
"Damnit," I growl, running my hands through my hair.
Fucking Evie.
I inhale deeply though my nose, oxygen suddenly gifting my lungs. Exhaling through my mouth, my heartbeat begins to slow. The pounding in my head lessens, but my temples still throb—every thump raising my anger like mercury in a thermometer.
But it is when I tear the blankets off me, when I see the wet spot on my shorts—when I finally register the warm, stickiness that coats my skin beneath my sleepwear—my temper hits its breaking point.
Dread and disgust.
Shock and awe.
They all slam into me at once, churning and whirling inside me—pure fury and destruction—and now I am not sure what I am feeling. I don't understand why this keeps happening, I don't understand why it's only Evie.
Fuck her.
And no, not literally.
I send another alarm clock into the wall. This one shatters, the cheap plastic cracking under too immense of a force and I watch as the pieces scatter across the floor, leaving me with only a dark sense of foreboding.
It's not going to be a good day.
¤¤¤
Dad sighs, "You're not angry enough." The deprecated look on his face is mostly hidden by the glaring mid-day sun of which I am thankful.
Looking up at the cloudless sky, I scoff. I think of Evie and mold and pack all my frustrations into this rageful snowball that insists on rolling down my gut to settle in my fucking dick. I feel it twitch and I curse under my breath. This should infuriate me more than anything else and yet, today, my irritation has suddenly been wiped, replaced with desire as if my body refuses to acknowledge the orders my brain keeps drilling.
I can't focus...
Which means I can't shift.
Yet again.
Dad stills, eyeing me and making me squirm under his gaze. "What's going on with you and the witch?" Knowing who my father is, I should have learned to be prepared for such ludicrous questions but alas, he has caught me off guard once more.
Heat rushes to my guilty face.
I know how to mind-link and I do it really well so I know I didn't send him a mental image of this morning's wet dream. I steady myself, clenching my jaw, "Nothing is going on with me and Evie."
Nothing.
"I think you like her," Bug sings with a mirthful grin that only exasperates me more. Her words pull my eyes northward again, and I do not attempt to hide my glower, "I just threw up in the back of my mouth."
Searching the vastness above me, I wonder just exactly what kind of trial my grandmother is putting me through. A grandmother I've never met but a goddess I am meant to worship nonetheless—she provides no help, no solace and the consideration of whether an abomination such as myself is even meant to transform into a wolf is brought to the forefront of my mind once more.
Maybe I am not a werewolf...
Not a lycan...
Not an Ancient in the true sense of the word.
"Maybe you're mates," dad shrugs, his suggestion meant to be casual though it is anything but.
I turn my displeasure from the sky and grandma to him instead, "I'm an Ancient. I don't have a mate." And if I did, it would definitely not be Evangeline Dubois.
I'm an Ancient, I repeat countless times daily and yet, even to me, it seems like a falsity. I remember the warmth and comfort I felt at two years old within the embrace of one red headed witch and I can't prevent the sinking feeling of despair that washes over me with the recollection of being ripped from her arms. It is the fuel to the ever raging wildfire of hate that burns inside of me.
But Evie is not my mate.
I do not have a mate.
I am an Ancient.
"No," he emphasizes, crossing his arms over his massive chest, "You were born of two Ancients... that doesn't automatically make you an Ancient." His features soften somewhat before his lowered voice continues to rip apart my hopes and aspirations, "Theon, we don't actually know what you are. There has never been another like you before."
Like he thinks I keep forgetting my lineage.
Don't get me wrong, I am grateful for the life my parents gave me but sometimes I wish their union hadn't resulted in a science experiment named Theon. "Is that why I can't shift?" I ask him earnestly. Maybe if I knew the reason why I cannot transform, the solution would be easier to find.
"No," he repeats that tiresome word with the shake of his head, "You cannot shift because you went from thirteen months old to twenty-two years old in a matter of seconds. You skipped your sixteenth birthday—the age all wolves have their first shift. It's a natural transformation... one you did not experience so it will not come as easily to you as it should others your age."
"So I'm defective," I conclude.
Makes sense.
Bug throws her two cents in with a carefree giggle, "Yep."
"You're not defective, Theon," he growls, his annoyance hitting it's max, "You're just behind the curve... Think of something else. Something more recent."
"Fine," I grumble. Closing my eyes, I replay this morning's fuckery—something that is still presently weighing on me.
"Keeley," I grin, "Check out my new shirt."
Her eyes scan me, her gaze heating my body and excellerating my heart. "That's boyfriend material," I pointed to my clothes.
She frowns, a defined brow arched in apathy, "It looks a little too clingy and hard to maintain." She struts out of the kitchen, pulling my eyes and my gaping mouth with her.
"Wow," DeLoren snickers, "I can almost hear it."
Confused, I turned to him, "Hear what?"
"The sizzle."
Sizzle?
What the hell is he going on about?
"What sizzle?" I ask, thoroughly convinced I missed something and definitely not prepared to be the butt of any joke.
His laughter bellows through the house as he walks backwards out of the kitchen. His meaty fingers point at me, making sure I know damn good and well that I failed with Keeley once more, "The sizzle from the burn she just gave you."
I try again, forcing all my emotions to the surface. Embarrassment, annoyance—failure. Every day for two months I've had this routine with Keeley and every day for two months I get the same snarky comebacks as if she is never once even slightly affected.
For a while, that was okay but with every night that passes and every dream of Evie becoming more and more intense, I cannot take much more. If I could just have Keeley, the dreams would go away, I'm certain of it. I need to focus all my energy on Keeley, fuck Evie and this vendetta—its causes my psyche too much distress.
"Hey," dad snaps his fingers in front of my face, "back to earth, goof troop." I blink, again realizing that Evie is the main source of all my problems.
In my head...
In my dreams...
Under my bed if this was a Metallica song...
Bug cackles, clutching her stomach. "Goof troop!" She repeats, as if that is the best name my father has ever come up with.
"Dad," I grumble through locked jaws, my sights set solely on my little sister, "does she have to be here?" She's human after all, I don't see how she can provide any constructive assistance.
"I'm here to help!" She pouts as if I have insulted her in some fucked up way—as if I agreed she was defective just minutes prior and now I'm starting to think that the only female in my life that doesn't frustrate the shit out of me is my mother... Most likely the origin story of every momma's boy ever.
Fine, I'll play, "How could you possibly help me?"
She looks to dad as if asking for permission, like she doesn't just do whatever the hell she wants whenever she fucking wants to anyways. The corners of his mouth deepen more, if that's even possible before he lulls his head and waves her on... but it's the devilish smirk to her face that makes my stomach lurch. "Remember, I love you, bro," she says as she marches up to me with a determination that is somewhat impressive for someone so young and tiny. The girl's got spirit, I have to give her that, at least.
And she is fast.
Like lightning to the ground, her foot swings upward with the force of a mack truck...
—square between my legs.
Pain explodes from within my groin, the weight of which pulls me to the ground. Almost instantly, I'm not sure whether to cup my nads or grab my stomach as this morning's breakfast rumbles up my esophagus. I gag on the bile that wishes desperately to expel itself from the confines of my throat. The beat of my heart falls downward, radiating through my testicles in an agonizing symphony of throbbing discomfort. "THE FUCK—" I yell, only to be cut off by screeching groan that makes me question if I ever fully hit puberty.
And while her assault on my scrotum should infuriate me, it is her laughter and dad's choking down of his that angers me more. There are some things in this world that are just off-limits and low blows are numero uno... dad should know this, even if Bug doesn't understand. The fact that he knew what she was going to do and allowed it to happen anyway transfers the hurt from my squashed nuts to my racing heart and then my shattered pride.
Fuck them.
"I'm out," I say with as much conviction as my aching body will allow. Every stomp that leads me further into the forest and farther away from their weak apologies is the only motivation I need to keep going... and I keep going until their voices are no longer decipherable to my sensitive hearing.
The sunlight is filtered through the thick foliage, casting shadows along the beaten trail path I follow. Chirping birds and snickering squirrels disregard my presence, mocking me for being less than threatening to their fight or flight responses.
Even they know I am no predator...
I am no Ancient.
I replaying dad's words inside my brain, a record on repeat I cannot stop, "You were born of two Ancients, that doesn't automatically make you an Ancient." While I want to argue his logic, I know it's pointless. None of the other Ancients have birthed half-Ancients in all their years of reproducing so why would there be any chance of two Ancients producing a full Ancient. I don't understand genetics yet, but something deep inside me knows the truth... it knows I am different—not fully a beast but not one hundred percent human either.
I am something in-between...
A tweener.
Theon the Tweener.
My woes will forever be cemented in folklore and sad diddies played on strumming homemade banjos by toothless inbred hicks.
I am no Ancient.
The terrain turns rocky, forcing me to scale upwards in hopes that the higher I go, the more distant my fears and doubts will be, left neatly at the bottom of this stupid mountain awaiting my return... if I ever return.
As I grab for the next moss covered stone, the ground loosens its hold because apparently the earth has made my choice for me. As I fall, it dawns on me that nothing about my life is under my control.
My back hits the mountain, granting my body no cushion upon impact. The force pings me off the stoney crevice, gravity yanking me south at a speed in which I am helpless to fight.
Rolling down the valley side, branches and twigs snap beneath me. Birds fly from the trees in groves and the woodland creatures scamper to avoid the massive anti-Ancient log now pummeling towards them at breakneck speeds. At this point, all I can do is hope I don't crush my skull on the way down.
The momentum of my body seems to slow as the mountain comes to a somewhat even surface. I slide on my back the rest of the way, twigs, weeds and rocks digging and gnawing at the exposed skin my ripped shirt has given open access to.
And when I finally stop, when I can finally catch breath, I am left staring upwards at the same cloudless sky I left behind in my backyard. The same sky that houses a grandmother I have never met—a goddess I do not know who gave me a life I never asked for, let alone wanted.
I narrow my eyes, all bitterness now focused on the one and only being that should be helping... the only being that has all the answers, yet refuses to assist me in my plight. "Fuck you, grandma," I whisper.
I know, I know, pussy move but on the off chance that she is actually listening, I don't want to end my day struck by lightning or some shit.
Rustling to my right freezes me.
I dare not turn my head but instead, follow the sound with my ears...
Creeping, they are light on their feet, almost soundless.
Almost.
And before I can process the smell that filters through my nostril, a brown wolf lands on top of me. Large paws dig into my clavicles, hitting pressure points I wasn't even aware I had. Saliva drips down the bright white teeth that are bared inches from my face, landing on my chin. I grimace at the hot breath that is forced upon me and while I have the strength to throw this animal off me, I very much wish to keep my nose in tact.
My nose, which suddenly processes this wolf's scent...
A scent full of bee balm and poppies; rain and wildflowers.
Startled, I chance the only name I dare utter, "Maddy?"