-UNTIL THE FLOOD-

Cynthia Brint
 Copyright © 2013 Cynthia Brint

All rights reserved.

Until the Flood is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and

incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or
locales is entirely coincidental.

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Table of Contents
Chapter 1.
Chapter 2.
Chapter 3.
Chapter 4.
Chapter 5.
Chapter 6.
Chapter 7.
Chapter 8.
Chapter 9.
Chapter 10.
Epilogue
 Chapter 1.

The grass was thick under my fingers, grown long and wild without
anyone to tell it to stop. Not that anyone would try and halt the growth of
brush on the far side of a hill, certainly not me. There was nothing better
than knowing you were climbing around in a place that felt... forgotten. A
place that adults with strict rules, with no time, didn't tread.
A place just for us.
“Jeez, Fiona,” Brandon shouted at me from below. “Are you closing
your eyes or something? It's taking you forever.”
Peering down the slope at the boy below, I squeezed the roots of a
prickly bush just a bit harder. “Shut up, I'm not moving slow. I'm just trying
to be careful.”
“What are you worried about?” His hands gripped his slim hips, legs
like a colt's bracing wide. He was still yards away, but even so, I could see
the glimmer in his lively green eyes. “If you fall, you know I'll just catch
you.”
That almost made me slip. I was very proud when it didn't.
Dirt went deep under my nails, my hands filthy when I finally stepped
down onto the path. Gazing upwards, looking at the gnarled hill above, I
laughed. “I can't believe we came down that.”
Brandon reached over, dusting debris out of my hair. “Come on, we're
awesome. We can do anything, Fiona.” His voice was crisp with the
delusion of youth, the belief that injury was impossible.
Listening to him, I felt immortal, too.
He'd always been that way, Brandon Beck. When I'd first met him in
second grade, he was getting scolded for climbing on top of the monkey
bars. By third grade, he was wandering off on field trips.
It wasn't until fifth grade that we even talked, though. Brandon had
signed up for cross-country, the only gym option that appealed to me. I had
just wanted the easiest choice to get a passing grade, because what jerk had
decided gym class needed a grade?
But Brandon was different.
 Brandon wanted to explore.
I caught him going off the trail the very first day, and in my curiosity, I'd
followed him. He'd gone deep into the forest that surrounds our tiny town in
South Dakota. A backwater place that lacked all the wonders of things like
big outlet malls. We even only had one movie theater!
I'd always thought where I lived was awful. Maybe even dreadful.
That day, trailing Brandon Beck as he slipped through the trees and
broke away from the well-worn path the kids were always supposed to
take... that day, I discovered how wrong I was.
He'd circled out into a giant field, an area that overlooked the town.
From there, I could see the crystal blue river that surrounded the east side.
I'd never, in my long life of twelve years, seen something so beautiful.
Brandon Beck, who'd known I was following him the whole time—
since I was no good as a spy—turned to me and smiled. In the sun, his teeth
glinted like pearls. “It's amazing, isn't it?”
From then on, I was hooked.
Now, following him through the wet, moss coated trees, I didn't
question where he was taking me. Him and I, we'd been friends for four
years. With the awkward sureness of sixteen year olds, we'd been dating for
the last two months.
I never doubted Brandon Beck.
How could you ever doubt the person you loved?
“Here,” he whispered, reaching back to take my hand. Swallowing
loudly, I grabbed it. He tugged me forward, leading us through a break in
the trees. Once there, the sun lived again, lighting through the cracks of the
leaves. He'd taken us to a clearing where a strip of the river turned into a
stream.
In my ears, the water sounded like bells. “It's so pretty! How did you
find this, Brandon?”
Squeezing my fingers, he let me go. “I don't know, I just wandered until
I came across it. You like it?”
“Yeah. It's so quiet here.” It was quiet lots of places, but that didn't
matter to me. Not then. This place felt special. “Too bad we had to go down
that giant hill to get here. I think I have briars in my hair,” I murmured.
Laughing, he hopped across to a big rock that sat inside the stream.
Sitting down, his long fingers spreading on the surface, he shot me a smile.
“That's part of the fun. Struggling is what makes an adventure an
adventure.”
“So this is our adventure?” I giggled, wiping dirt from the front of my
ratty jeans.
“Yeah,” he said, fixing his intense eyes on me. “It is.”
His confidence in us stole my voice away. Moving forward, I sat close
to him, our legs almost touching. Though we'd been dating for a whole two
months, officially, Brandon still hadn't kissed me. Being close to him was
more than enough to make my belly tight.
We sat listening to the forest, smelling the fresh air. Maybe that was
enough for him, perhaps it should have been enough for me.
But it wasn't.
Bumping my hand against his, I watched him startle. His nose was so
close to mine when her turned, eyeing me in confusion. “What is it, what's
wrong?”
“Nothing,” I lied, staring down at a beetle on the rock. It was suddenly
the most interesting thing. “Just nothing.”
“Fiona.” His fingers traced over my own, turning my blood electric.
“Do you know why I took you here?”
Blinking, I squinted into his serious eyes. Brandon's mouth twitched at
one corner, his brows furrowing. Is he... nervous? “To show me a neat
place, I figured.”
Chuckling, he smoothed a hand over his messy, mouse brown hair. In
the sun, it shone like silver. “Yeah, that's sort of true. But it was also—it
was kind of...”
“What?” I breathed out, desperate, sensing what I thought was tension.
“Oh, no. Are you breaking up with me? Brandon, is that why you haven't...
did I do something wrong?”
The look of consternation on his face would have been funny any other
time. “Huh? Shit, no! Fiona, that's the opposite of what I'm trying to get at
here.”
My chest thrummed, threatening to crush my lungs with how much
room my heart wanted to take up. I'd always thought you were supposed to
wait for the guy to kiss you. That was how movies did it, and fairy tales,
and everything. It was how my world had been shaped. It was what I had
dreamed was supposed to happen.
 When I leaned forward, pushing my lips hungrily, awkwardly, to
Brandon's... I didn't care what was 'supposed' to happen. I just wanted what
I wanted.
Right then, I wanted him more than the fulfillment of fairy tales.
I knew he was surprised, it was just that my own shock was so strong I
had trouble focusing on his. Leaning back, my palms covered my mouth.
The color of my cheeks rivaled fresh tomatoes. “Oh god, Brandon, I'm so
sorry. That wasn't—I mean—you weren't...”
Laughing, his own face on fire, he reached up a shaking hand to touch
my jaw. “Fiona, you're fantastic. Don't ever change, okay?”
“Okay,” I agreed, copying his anxious laughter. “Okay, okay.”
It was my first kiss, and it was more perfect than any story could have
promised.

****

If we'd been inseparable before, Brandon and I were glued permanently

now.
Wherever we went, our hands were linked. If we couldn't see each
other, we would stay up on our phones, talking softly until our parents
insisted we go to bed.
It was a feeling unlike anything I'd ever had. It filled me up, made me
antsy and comfortable and ecstatic all at once.
Brandon and I were in love.
Together, the world felt more alive than ever. We climbed every hill, we
crawled through bushes into dark caves. Nothing scared us. Nothing could
hurt us.
What could ever threaten the armor built by soul mates?
Being sixteen gives you many advantages. Ours was the confident
surety of love, the logic that we'd found our one and only. It gave us a
future, a de facto life of warm love and contagious giggles.
Humans are never more naïve in our lives than at age sixteen.
 Chapter 2.

“I know, Mom. I heard you the first time.” Straightening my hair in the
bathroom mirror, I didn't look at her.
My mother leaned on the door frame, arms folded tight as a snail in a
shell. “Fiona, I don't think you're listening. The weather has been really bad
lately, we've had so much rain... I've never seen it like this. Can't you and
Brandon just hold off on your hike for a bit?”
Rolling my eyes, I dabbed some concealer on my cheeks. “You don't get
it. It's our six month anniversary. It's important.”
“Hiking in the rain important?”
“Yes,” I countered, shooting a pout at her. “We don't care that it's
raining.”
“You don't, but I do. Can you promise me you'll at least come back
before it gets too late? It's already nine, how long does it take you to go
hiking? Why does it have to be at night?”
Because it's romantic. I didn't want to say it so brazenly. Peering over, I
could see the worry in her face. The weather had been awful, but Brandon
and I could handle it. “Fine. I won't be back super late, but it'll take us like
an hour to get to where we're going.”
She said nothing for a minute, looking me up and down. “Alright. Fine.
Go ahead, I won't stop you. But Fiona... why are you putting on makeup for
a hike?”
That made me blush fiercely. How did you explain to your mom that
you wanted to look nice for your boyfriend? I didn't bother trying, I just
shut the door on her so I could finish.

****
 The rain was coming down violently. It made me relish the umbrella I'd
grabbed, though the wind became my next challenge. I made it halfway to
where I was meeting Brandon before the entire contraption inverted,
becoming pointless.
Awesome, I thought glumly. The work I'd put into my hair and makeup
washed away in seconds.
Struggling against the torrent, I made it to the shelter of the forest much
later than anticipated. Brandon was waiting for me under an oak tree, his
arms over his head. “Hey!” Laughing, he waved me under the branches.
“What's that you're holding?”
Waving the busted umbrella, I rolled my eyes. “Just some cheap plastic,
apparently. This weather is atrocious!”
Nodding, he glanced up at the thick, black blanket of clouds. “The sky
seems angry, doesn't it?”
Following his eyes, I nodded slowly. “It does. Uh, my mom suggested
we not go out in this.”
Brandon's eyebrows lifted sympathetically. “Maybe we should call it
off, you think?”
My brain buzzed, thinking of all the times I'd been wary of whatever
adventure Brandon wanted to take us on. How he'd always comforted me
and coerced me into what ended up being something worth doing. “No,” I
said bluntly. “I think we should do this.”
“Really?” He blinked dubiously.
“Yeah. Yeah, it's just a little rain.”
Grinning, Brandon took my hand. “That's the spirit.” Together, we
worked our way into the brush. It was hard to see, the leaves were weighed
down by rain. Shadows lived everywhere, a blue hue coating the world
before our eyes.
Gingerly, we arrived at the steep slope. That time, we inched down
together. Brandon was patient with me, stabilizing himself where he could
to give me support on the wetter areas. It was slow going, but we made it to
the bottom in one piece.
We were soaked with mud down our backs and legs. Exhilarated by our
successful climb, we just laughed, stomping carelessly through puddles.
Why try to stay dry anymore?
Slipping out from under the cover of branches, we approached the
creek.
 The place we'd shared our first kiss.
Our laughter faded when we saw how bloated the entire area was. The
rocks we'd sat on were gone, hidden under rushing ripples. “Whoa,” I said,
staring in shock. “Uh. That's a lot of water.” It was a dumb, obvious
statement. Blushing, I gave him a side-look. “I mean, this is a little extreme,
isn't it? Brandon?”
My boyfriend, he was just... staring. Those lovely green eyes, eyes I got
too much pleasure from gazing into fondly, were now fixed in rapt horror.
Slipping on mud, he turned quickly. “Fiona, come on! Follow me.”
“What? What's wrong?” I asked, hurrying to keep after him. He was
faster than me, way better at navigating the brambles in the darkness.
Above us, the sky roared like it was full of angry gods. “Brandon? Hey!”
The gangly boy said nothing. Looking straight ahead, he didn't flinch as
a twig ripped a red line across his cheek. It took everything to keep up with
him, climbing the hills was hard enough without slippery rain.
Finally, we fought our way onto the flat section of a field. Below us
were the rivers, the lakes, and the dam that had stood for far longer than I'd
lived. It was the east side of our tiny town, a place that looked beautiful on
a sunny day. Now, it just scared me.
The water was raging, I could see chunks of things—logs, leaves, mud?
—ramming up against the inside of the dam. It was clogging everything,
furious white foam rattling hungrily at the lip. It was frightening, but it was
Brandon's pale face that scared me the most. “Brandon?” I whispered,
edging closer. “What is it? What's happening?”
Turning to me, as if in a dream, he spoke words that put me close to
fainting. “Fiona, I think the dam might break.”
“No. Impossible, it's never before. Why now? Why would no one be
preparing for that?”
“We've never had rain like this,” he answered. I could hear the tremor
on his tongue. “We need to go, we need to warn everyone!” Eyes, wide as
the moon we couldn't see, bore into me. “Fiona, we need to hurry, or
everyone is going to die!”
I didn't answer. I didn't even think. I just turned and ran through the
trees.
There was no sound but our labored panting, the rumble of thunder
above. It was as if we were racing the sky. That black expanse had an unfair
advantage. With the wind at our backs, rain pelting our faces, Brandon and I
climbed the steep slope faster than we'd come down it.
Breaking through the trees, the hour arriving on eleven, we looked out
over the town as the clouds roared louder. No, that noise isn't the storm, I
realized with horror. It was too man-made, too concrete and screeching
metal. Brandon shared a look with me, our mouths gaping.
That's the sound of the dam breaking.
“Hurry!” he cried, rushing down the street.
“Brandon, wait!” My heart was threatening to explode. I knew what we
needed to do, what was required of us. Can we possibly knock on every
door? Can we wake everyone up and save them in time?
He was shouting as he ran, outpacing me easily. “Get up! Get up! It's a
flood, the dam is down!” His hands cupped his mouth to carry his voice
over the noise.
That was when the first wave of water came. It rolled down the hills,
through the streets. It was a monster that pushed parked cars along with it.
Standing there, I was frozen on the spot. No, this can't be happening.
My body didn't want to believe what I was seeing. This isn't how my story
goes.
Brandon turned, hurrying back my way. I didn't realize he'd gotten so
far, not until I saw how quickly the flood was coming at us. It swept up the
world, stealing anything not bolted down. Items vanished, or they slammed
into the nearest houses.
“Fiona!” he screamed at me, eyes pure white around the edges with fear.
“Quick, move! Go!”
I couldn't, I couldn't do anything.
He barreled into me, dragging me through the streets. I could hear the
sound of other people, but over it all was the deafening bellow of
destruction. Brandon shoved me against the side of a house, then forced me
onto the roof of a car. “Go! Go, climb!”
Shaking, I tried to hoist myself up the slippery surface, but I couldn't
reach the roof. “I can't,” I sobbed. “I can't get up there! I'm not tall enough!”
He was beside me, arms around my waist so he could lift me. My
fingers scrabbled, gripping the ledge. It was a tenuous hold, but it was
enough. Grunting, I pulled myself higher, feeling him guiding me. He's
always there, he always helps me. We're going to do this, we can be saved!
 I rolled over the ledge, gasping with relief. Twisting, I reached down,
wanting to help him up. Below me, I glimpsed Brandon's lovely green eyes.
They watched me as he was ripped down the street, then consumed by the
raging black water.
In seconds, he was gone.
In seconds, the love of my life didn't exist.
That was the moment I knew fairy tales weren't real at all.
All night, I screamed and cried. Long after the rain finally stopped, and
long before the rescue teams arrived to get me off of the roof. A few others
had managed to climb high, like me, but we were rare.
Electricity burst in the air, fires starting from the sparks. The smoke was
thicker than the storm clouds. I could hear the sounds of people in pain,
cries for help. Eventually they went silent, and then I heard no one.
Almost everyone had been wiped out, my hometown ruined overnight.
They called it the worst flash flood of the century, worst South Dakota
had ever known. So many people dead, so much damage the numbers were
beyond me. In the end, they couldn't even find all of the bodies.
They couldn't find his body.
It was a closed, empty casket funeral. I was one of the few who
attended. All of Brandon's friends, his family... everyone he'd known
closely—besides me—they'd all died.
We'd both lost everything. I'd lost everything.
One single event, and my life could never go back to what it had been.
All because of the rain.
 Chapter 3.

“Here you go,” I said with a smile. “Just copy those five pages, it's
everything you missed from the last three days.”
Rubbing his cheek sheepishly, Mark took my notebook like it was worth
a million dollars. “Man, seriously Fiona. I really owe you.”
Waving my hand, I adjusted my backpack self-consciously. “No no no,
not at all. It was really nothing.”
“To me, it's something.” His grin was wide, showing too many teeth.
That was my cue to stand, clearing my throat loudly. “You were out
sick, it isn't your fault. Just get them back to me tomorrow, if you can.”
Smoothing my tight ponytail, I tried to avoid his eyes. They were too
interested, too aimed at me. “Okay, Mark?”
Laughing softly, he spread the notebook open on the tiny coffee shop
table. “Right. Not a problem. I'll see you tomorrow, before your marketing
class.”
Waving, I backtracked out the door, nearly bumping into someone.
“Tomorrow—sorry, sorry—right! Bye, Mark! Bye!” Turning before the
whole shop saw my raging blush, I power-walked down the sidewalk
outside.
Eesh, that was awkward. I knew it was my fault things had gotten
weird. Mark was a nice guy, we'd talked occasionally in our math class,
but... But he's starting to look at me like he wants more than just my notes.
Frustrated by my own reaction to someone showing interest in me, I cut
through the back alleys of the area's restaurant district. It wasn't the nicest
location, especially after it got dark out. Then, well... then you didn't want
to be anywhere near that district.
Luckily, it was still sunny enough that I wasn't worried.
I had other things to bother my brain. Things that poked at me all the
way till I got home.
Hopping up the front steps of my tiny apartment, my keys jingled in the
lock. I'd hardly gotten the door open before the insistent meowing of my cat
hit my ears. “Shh, shh, relax Angel. I'll feed you, give me a second.”
Kicking the door shut behind me, I dropped my backpack to the floor
without a care.
The tiny place was warm, prompting me to open the windows in the
kitchen and my attached living room. It was a cramped studio apartment,
but with my grandpa paying for it, I had no complaints. As far as I was
concerned, it was as home as home could ever be, for me.
“Here you go,” I said, handing off a small bowl of wet food to the giant
cat that wouldn't stop bumping into my ankles. The second the meal hit the
ground, Angel jumped at it, forgetting me entirely.
Chuckling, I grabbed my hips. “Wish I had someone to feed me dinner.”
Digging around in my fridge revealed nothing but an old cartoon of
Chinese takeout. Sighing, wishing for something better, I chucked it into
my microwave.
By the time the sun had gone down, I was settled in front of the
television, chomping away on chewy noodles. There was nothing that
caught my attention, I kept flipping the channels with boredom.
Sports, news, reality TV, news, cartoons, news...
I caught a snippet as I rolled by the different stations, found myself
hesitating to hear the rest. “...so expect rain in the next few days, it'll be
cool and wet! Next up...”
Frowning, I turned the television off entirely. The last thing I wanted to
hear about was the rain. I'd moved to Arizona to get away from the damn
rain.
Wanting to distract myself, I filled the old, deep basin tub in the
bathroom with enough hot water to turn the room into a sauna. While I was
uncomfortable—often scared—of rain or big areas of water, if I didn't think
it could drown me I didn't care.
Adding in sweet smelling soap, making the tub sparkle with hilariously
purple bubbles, I grinned. Much better. No, wait. Hurrying into the kitchen,
I returned with a glass of old whiskey. Technically, it wasn't legal for me to
drink, but who would know?
Grandpa lives back on the edge of South Dakota, there's no one around
to know.
Setting the glass on the edge of the sink, I let my clothes fall in a heap.
My toes warned me how hot the water was, but that was just perfect.
Sinking in, down to my chin and enjoying every excruciating inch, I sighed.
With whiskey in hand, I tilted my head back.
 Okay. Now, it's better.
The drink burned my throat, taking the edge out of my body. Even so,
the moment I closed my eyes, the thoughts in my head ran loose. They
melted like snow, filling the bottom of my brain to take hold.
It was always like that. I'd never escaped the memories of that night,
two years just wasn't enough. Will any length of time be enough? I don't
think it's possible to forget everything, to forget Brandon.
I wasn't sure I really wanted to.
Thinking of Mark, how he'd flashed me a smile when I'd handed him
my notes... it made me gulp down more whiskey.
Is there something wrong about not wanting to let go?
Chewing my lip, tasting bitter soap, I popped out the tub's cork.
Listening to the water run down, echoing in the old pipes, I dried off
absently. My grandpa had told me that with time, everything that needed to
heal would do so. Wounds would mend, memories would fade.
Green eyes and a teasing grin entered my mind.
Not all memories can fade, or should.
Angel purred at me as soon as I entered my bedroom. She had taken up
residence in my bed, tail and toes stretched as far as possible. Laughing, I
sat down hard enough to make her jump. “Trying to take my bed away, are
we?” Scratching her chin, I fell back in just my robe.
Lying there with the fuzzy white cat, her warmth pressed on my chest, it
was comforting. Enough that, with her rumbling sounds vibrating through
my skin, I fell asleep in minutes.

****

Everything was black and blue as a bruise. The world I saw, it blinded
me until I could do nothing, go no where, to escape the terror encroaching
on me. I was drowning, sinking under as the water filled my mouth and
inflated my lungs.
The only reason I knew I was dreaming... was because of him.
Brandon grabbed my hand, he was the only thing that wasn't made of
shadows in my world. Holding me tight, he clawed at me to take me to the
surface. I knew if I got there, I'd be okay.
 We'd both be okay.
We'd break into the air, we'd breathe together. Nothing would ever hurt
us again.
I knew that.
So why couldn't I ever reach the surface?
Gasping, my eyes shot open in the dark. Outside, the deep thrum of
thunder growled like a beast. My blankets were soaked from my sweat. I
lay there for a long minute.
That nightmare, I wish I'd stop having it.
At the same time, it was the only way I could ever see Brandon. Lifting
my hand, I wiped away the tears I knew were there. Angel was gone,
leaving me alone in my damp robe. What time is it, has it been raining
long?
Shifting, I turned my head with the goal of staring out my window. I
only wanted to see how bad the downpour was. The hard rattling on the
ancient roof convinced me I'd need to find a bucket or two for leaks, if it
was as bad as it sounded.
Trembling, I squinted across the room. The glass was dark, it made me
consider getting up to press myself on it. I didn't want to, my muscles were
weak from nerves. If I hid under my bed, would I feel any better? A shard
of lightning lit up the night sky. It turned everything purple, illuminating
many things.
But I was only gaping at one of them.
There, looking at me intently with the same green eyes he'd always
had...
Brandon.
He was looking through the window.
Looking at me.
For a long moment, we stared at each other. Then, as the lightning glow
faded, I was left with nothing but a black window. Throwing myself off the
bed, I slammed into the window frame so hard it shook the panes. Outside, I
saw only the wet grass and waving bushes.
Am I crazy? Did I really just—was it possible I—no, no, I'm sure I saw
him!
I had to know, needed to know. My legs raced to take me out my front
door. Angel yowled at me as I went past, but I didn't slow down. Not even
outside. My bare feet slipping in mud, rain soaking my cheeks... even then,
I didn't hesitate.
Around the side of the building where my bedroom window was, I
wrenched my eyes side to side. Hungrily, I searched the area, turning in
place like a wild animal. “Brandon?” I called tentatively. Then, more
forcefully, “Brandon! Brandon, where are you?”
There was no answer.
Soaked to the bone, the thunder laughing above, I felt foolish. It had to
have been a dream. Nothing else makes sense.
Shivering, I hugged my sopping robe close. Wandering back inside,
once more ignoring Angel as she danced around my feet, I left a dripping
path to my bathroom. My skull felt too small, my brain aching with
confusion. He looked older, did I actually imagine an older version of
Brandon Beck? It didn't seem possible. But, then...
Neither did seeing the face of my dead boyfriend.
 Chapter 4.

Besides a slight sniffle, something cured decently by a hot cup of

peppermint tea and a cat warming my lap at breakfast, I had no lingering
affects from my night encounter.
That is, besides the lingering feeling I hadn't imagined it. What's worse,
going crazy, or actually seeing someone who should be dead?
The rain had stopped, but the day was more grey than gravel as I jogged
towards my campus. While I was blessed that my grandpa was kind enough
to take care of me—I suspected he felt responsible with my mother, his
daughter, gone—he couldn't afford to keep me in the dorms. I didn't mind,
living on my own was nicer.
Even if the apartment isn't the best, it's still better than living with a
stranger.
Avoiding a puddle, I hurried through the doors of the main building.
Skidding on the tile, losing traction, I bumped gently into Mark as I
rounded a corner. “Oh!” I gasped, stumbling backwards.
“Sorry, sorry!” Laughing, he caught my arm, keeping me from falling.
Blushing, I looked pointedly at his hand, trying to remove myself
gently. He got the hint, letting me go with an embarrassed cough. “Really,
sorry about that. I was waiting out here to give you your notebook back, is
all.”
“It's alright. I should have been paying more attention.”
“This rain,” he said. “It makes everything so slippery.”
Smoothing the front of my jacket, I gave an empathic nod. “The rain is
awful, yes.” On that, we can agree.
Mark looked me over, then dug into his backpack. When he offered me
my notebook, I took it gratefully. “Did you get everything you needed?”
“Yeah,” he said with a wide smile. “I definitely did. Uh, alright. I'll let
you get to class, I need to run.”
“Don't slip,” I teased, waving at him as he began walking backwards.
Mark flapped his arms, mock-stumbling. He ran off with another gesture of
farewell.
 I watched him go, wondering what to make of his antics. Is he flirting,
or am I overall insane and imagining that, too? Pushing into my classroom,
I took the nearest empty desk.
Public Speaking was one of, if not the, most boring classes possible. I
tuned out most of what my teacher said, all the way until he wanted us to
start taking down notes.
Covering my mouth to stifle a yawn, I flipped the pages of my notebook
open... and gawked.
There, written in perfect blue ink, was a phone number. This is... Mark
wrote down his number for me. Oh, what the hell does this say... Squinting,
my face flushed, I read his plea to get in touch with him. There was a party
that night out in the desert, and he wanted me to go with him.
Slamming the book shut, I stared straight ahead in horror. I guess I know
if he was flirting for sure or not. Great. Fantastic.
The rest of class, I couldn't focus enough to bother writing anything
down. What was I supposed to do about this? I could go to the party, but I
don't want Mark to get the wrong idea. Ugh, this is a dumb thing to stress
out about.
Gathering my items as the bell rang, I ran out the door. I didn't have a
plan, not exactly. Vanishing off the campus seemed the logical step. Maybe
I could go home, hide under my blankets. Forget about everything.
I slowed down, the cool evening air and the grey skies in stark contrast
to my boiling mind. Is that really my solution? Hide from Mark, hide from
everything?
Coming to a sudden halt, I ignored the students that shuffled around me
on the cement walkway. Running would be so easy. But I'd have to face him
eventually. I don't know if it's the best decision, but... but maybe I'll just tell
Mark straight out that I don't think of him that way.
Frowning, I dug my phone from my pocket. Seeing it wasn't exactly
helpful. It was a newer device, my old one having been lost weeks ago.
Mark had been a saint, telling me about a brand that would let me register it
online. It would let me track my phone if I ever lost it again, a fact I'd used
once already when I dropped it in my couch cushions.
My jaw went tight. Stop feeling like you owe him something. Nip this in
the rear, right now. Do it, Fiona.
The ringer in my ear was too fast. I'd hoped for a moment to prepared
myself more, to steel my nerves. Instead he was there, talking rapidly.
“Fiona! Hey! Hi! I'm so glad you called! I guess you got my note, or I
mean, that is why—you are calling cause—”
“Mark,” I blurted, ending his ramble. “Listen, uh.”
“I'm seriously so happy you're coming tonight. How about I pick you up
around seven? Or do you want to drive yourself? This is going to be so
much fun, there's supposed to be a fire pit and music and someone's going
to bring beer for sure. Or do you not drink? Do you drink Fiona?”
My mouth opened, no sound exiting.
Oh my gosh he is so excited, how do I say no?
And the answer was... I didn't. “I'll drive myself, don't worry.”
“Okay okay, cool! I'll just give you the directions.”
I was relieved he couldn't see me covering my eyes, or how I hung my
head. “Yup, go ahead.”
What have I gotten myself into?

****

The road was dark, it had been for some time. I'd figured the party
would be pretty far out in the desert, but still, the silent stretch of dunes
around me was unsettling. I felt like I was crossing into another world, an
alien planet. I'd been in Arizona for a few months, it was the school I'd
chosen after dealing with awful panic attacks living with my Grandpa in
South Dakota.
I just hated rain, and hated explaining why.
Though, even this place can't escape the dumb weather, I thought with
frustration. My mood was sour, I couldn't blame anyone but myself. If I'd
been stronger, more determined, I could have told Mark I wasn't going to
go.
I need to grow a backbone.
Rounding a corner, I spotted the haze of orange light out on the azure
sand. The party was behind some taller dunes. Guiding my car over the
packed ground, I spotted the other vehicles where they were partially
hidden from the road.
It wasn't the most secret place, but everyone knew the cops wouldn't
bother coming out this far to tangle with dumb college kids. They weren't
paid enough to deal with us.
Turning off the engine, I unclicked my seat belt... then simply sat there
in the dark. Stop it, just go out there and have some fun. You need to try
that, you shouldn't be grieving after all this time. You're eighteen, go act
like it.
Gritting my teeth, I opened the door violently.
Sand dusted around my shoes, trying to slow me down. I was grateful
for it, anything that delayed my confrontation with Mark was helpful.
Rounding the shadow of the dunes, the flickering fire made me shield my
eyes. I didn't have a second to survey the gathered people before his voice
shouted out. “Fiona! Hey! You made it!”
Mark virtually ran to me, a beer bottle grasped tight. When he leaned in
to hug me, I could smell it on his breath. How much has he had? “Hey,” I
answered, smiling uneasily. I'd dressed in a tight blue sweater and faded
jeans. It'd seemed innocuous, but now, as he ran his eyes over me, I felt
vulnerable. “Um, lot of people here, huh?”
“Yeah.” Glancing back at the crowd, the music pumping from an old
CD player, he laughed. “Seems everyone who knew someone was invited.
Nice though. Hey, let me get you a drink.” He grabbed my wrist, tugging
me over to the coolers.
“Oh, no, it's fine.” His fingers held on tighter than he had any right to. I
didn't think he was actually drunk until he turned, open bottle in hand,
spilling it across my front. “Oh my gosh!” I shouted, jumping backwards.
Mark stood there, his surprise dulled. Both his hands were in the air,
gripping the two drinks like he was under arrest. “Fiona—I—I'm so sorry!”
Unsure what else to do, I made myself laugh. It was a broken, baffled
sound, but I could see that it relaxed him. “Don't worry about it. This is an
old shirt anyway.” It wasn't. “Uh, guess I will take that beer.” Might as well,
since I'm wearing most of it.
Smiling shyly, he handed the bottle to me. It was hard for me to be
angry. Any hope I'd had of explaining to Mark, right away, that I wasn't
interested in him... it faded when he clinked his drink on mine. “Cheers,” he
said brightly. “I'm really glad you made it out.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I am, too.” How weird, but it's true. Now that I'm out
here with the stars above, this giant fire, all these people... it feels kind of
nice. I'd had a hard time getting close to anyone over the years. They
always want to know where you're from, what your parents do, things like
that.
Things I refused to discuss.
Mark hadn't asked any of that, not yet. But I knew he would eventually.
Maybe it's time I learned to talk about it. To just explain where I come from.
To Explain The flood that ruined it all.
Taking a long gulp of the bitter drink, I savored the taste.
“Hey, come on,” Mark said suddenly. “Come meet some people.”
Inhaling deeply, I gave him a nod. “Okay, sure.” Just do it, just try!
Between the music and alcohol, the awkwardness of new people prying
into my history never happened. The group was too drunk, too carefree, to
worry about who I was. A bunch even got my name wrong.
That made me feel much better.
It took me another beer before I was actually having fun. Dancing
around the fire with Mark, seeing everyone just smiling, it made me forget
why I had been so scared of coming to the party.
But then Mark reached out, taking my hand and pulling me. “This way,
I want to show you something.” I set my empty drink down in the sand,
letting him guide me away from the orange glow. Around the stark shadows
of the dunes, Mark and I walked for longer than made sense.
Where is he taking me?
When we could no longer see or hear the party, he stopped. “It's nice out
here, isn't it?”
Turning my head, I scanned our surroundings. The sand faded into hills
and trees, the area becoming less a desert, more a sparse forest. The best
thing, in my opinion, were the stars in the sky. I was glad the rain clouds
had vanished. “It is, yeah. Um. What did you want to show me?” Why are
we out here?
Mark faced me, his hands reaching for my shoulders. I was too slow,
too sluggish and unprepared for his abrupt attempt to kiss me. Freezing up,
my body became my enemy. He managed to close in, to start to put his
beer-soaked lips on mine, before I shoved him away. “Hey!” I cried,
gawking at him. “What are you doing!?”
He stumbled back, eyeing me like I was the crazy one who'd done
something weird. “What the hell? What do you mean, what am I doing?
Fiona, I was trying to kiss you.”
 His anger was the first hint I had of any danger. “Mark, don't. I'm not—
I'm not interested in you, in that.”
“No interested?” His laughter was cruel, raising goosebumps. “Then
why the hell did you come out here tonight, why follow me this far if you
didn't want something?”
Shaking my head, I tugged at my ponytail nervously. “Ugh, I wanted to
tell you before, I just couldn't find the right time and—”
“No.”
Cut off, I gaped at him warily. “No?”
“No,” he repeated, stepping so close our noses almost touched.
Wrenching backwards, to get away, his arms wrapped around my waist to
stop me. “No, I think I get it. You're one of those girls who just needs a little
encouragement.”
“Mark, stop it!” Shoving at him proved pointless. Easily, he tackled me
down so we landed on the soft sand. “Mark, no, you're drunk! Just stop!”
Oh shit oh shit oh shit.
The young man who I'd thought I could trust, that I'd been sure would
be the one to suffer that night when I turned down his advances... he
crushed me into the ground, hands roaming my body. I'd never had
someone do anything like that to me. My gut reaction was to scream, to cry
for help, but his mouth smothered me.
Help me, I begged mentally. Someone, notice we're gone!
I drove my knee up, catching him in the stomach. Mark grunted, sitting
back enough so I could see his shock. “What are you doing?” he asked,
slurring his words.
He's so drunk, but... but he shouldn't be doing this! Scrambling, I
pushed at his shoulders. He was too heavy, too confident that he knew I
wanted this. I don't, I don't, someone! “Get off, get away!” I finally shouted.
Mark didn't absorb my plea. I could tell from his eyes.
His wide palms held my skull, his lower half pressing me down. For a
second, I thought about closing my eyes.
I was glad I hadn't.
If I'd shut my eyes, even for a moment, I'd have missed the sight of the
person who appeared above us.
Green eyes, furious and wild, glinted in the dim light of the stars.
Brandon, I thought in disbelief.
 Mark was too out of it to notice how I stared over his shoulder. He
wasn't dulled enough to not feel himself being yanked off of me, though.
“Hey!” he shouted, wrenched away in a single pull. Brandon did it so
easily, so impossibly easily. Just like that, my attacker was thrown into the
sand as if he weighed nothing.
Sitting up on my elbows, I was bathed in Brandon's shadow. It was only
a moment, his face partially hidden by darkness. Right then, I knew I wasn't
crazy.
Brandon Beck was alive.
He turned, stalking towards Mark in a way that reminded me
disturbingly of an animal on the hunt. The dark jeans and thin, tan shirt that
slid over his powerful body didn't help the image. The Brandon I'd known,
he'd been a gangly boy that was all sinew and bone. Now, the years had left
him filled out with rippling muscles. They flexed through his clothes, along
his bare arms.
Mark climbed to his feet, sand drifting from his hair. “Hey, what the hell
man!? This is none of your busi—” He never finished his sentence.
Brandon gripped him by the front of his shirt, ripping him upwards.
Seeing how his toes hung down, not touching the ground, made me do a
double-take. How is that possible? Is he really that strong? Sitting there, I
looked on in wonderment.
The twisted face he made, teeth bared, was not the kind expression of
the boy I'd known so long ago. “Listen to me carefully,” Brandon hissed.
He gave Mark a shake, only stopping when the other man finally hung limp,
eyes wide in fear and defeat. “You don't ever, ever go near her again. Do
you understand?”
Mark licked his lips, making no sound other than labored breathing.
“Do you understand!?”
“Y—y—yes! Yes, I got it! Please, don't hurt me!”
As if Mark were trash, Brandon threw him aside. Turning away, his
broad back faced me. I didn't think he'd actually looked at me during the
whole encounter, but I was sure he knew who I was.
He had to.
“Brandon, wait!” Jumping up, strength and determination in my legs, I
hurried to reach him. “Brandon, please! It's me, it's Fiona!”
There was a brief flinch, yet that was all. Fast, liquid in his movements,
Brandon rushed across the sand until he vanished into the shadows of the
trees lining the area.
Behind me, I heard Mark running the opposite direction. I didn't turn to
see, I could have cared less about him. All I wanted was for Brandon to
stop. For him to turn back, to look me in the face and show he recognized
me.
That was him, that was really him.
Covering my mouth, I fell to my knees. Adrenaline had vanished,
leaving me limp with the reality of what had occurred. I'd been in serious
danger, and just like in the past, Brandon had come to my aid.
Just like that fateful day, Brandon Beck had saved me.
 Chapter 5.

When I got back to the light of the fire, Mark was no where in sight.
Some people looked my way; mumbled questions, asking if something had
happened. Beyond a nod or shrug as I pushed by, I didn't engage them.
Climbing into my car, I felt comfort in the rumble of the engine. It also
reminded me of something, giving my busy brain a place to focus. Did I
hear Brandon growl? He seemed so different, so strong and... and scary.
Frowning hard, I turned my car out onto the empty road.
I didn't want to consider the situation with that tainting my memory.
However, I couldn't deny that I'd watched my old boyfriend, the love of my
life, lift a full grown man off the ground and throw him like a pillow.
He did look bigger, and if he was angry enough, that'd make sense.
Wouldn't it? Looking at myself in my driver mirror, I wished for an answer.
By the time I got back, it was late enough that I should have felt pure
exhaustion. Especially with two beers still floating in my system—I was
lucky I hadn't been pulled over, I was sure I'd fail a blood test—sleep
should have come easily.
Sitting down in front of my laptop, I began to type.
I searched up things like 'man lifts car' or 'world's strongest man' until
my eyes were dry from staring. Nothing sat right with me, but it was as
close to logic as I could get.
People can be strong when it calls for it. What I saw made sense.
It made sense.
My brain didn't let me rest until the sun started to rise.

****

I missed every class the next day.

Perhaps I should have cared more, but I just didn't. Nothing was as
important as understanding what was going on. I'd seen Brandon, I knew I
had. Every bit of me craved to see him again.
Sitting on my couch, Angel curled in my lap, I held my phone to my
ear. “Hey Grandpa,” I said when the line picked up. “It's me.”
“Fiona!” His chuckle was warm, familiar. “What's going on, how are
you?”
“Oh, you know.” Just saw my dead boyfriend last night is all, no big.
“I'm alright, the weather has been kind of gross though.”
He made a small sound, like he was agreeing. “Nature is a fickle beast,
can't escape it.”
Fickle beast...
I cleared my throat. “Listen, Grandpa. Do you believe in... um. I mean.
Is it possible for ghosts to be real?” Hearing my own question made me
blush with shame. Ghosts, really? No, Brandon was tangible.
My grandpa laughed, but not with even a hair of rudeness. “Ghosts.
Now there's a thought. I'm guessing something happened, Fiona. Why don't
you tell me why you're asking me this.”
Chewing my tongue, I stopped petting Angel. “You'll think I'm nuts, but
I swear I'm not.”
“I won't think any such thing, dear.”
Filling my chest with air, I waited only a second before spilling what
was on my mind. “Last night—no, before that, but for sure last night—I
saw someone I shouldn't have. Grandpa, you must remember... remember
Brandon Beck, right?” Uttering his name out loud made my stomach twist.
“Brandon,” he whispered, vocalizing the sadness I was feeling. “Yes. Of
course. I met him a few times when I came down for Christmas. He was
always trying to drag you off at odd hours.”
That almost made me smile. Almost.
“Fiona,” he went on, and I could sense how he was tip-toeing, “you're
trying to tell me you saw the ghost of your young friend from back then?”
In my chest, my heart throbbed violently. “It wasn't a ghost. I don't
know exactly what he was, Grandpa. Just that I'm positive it was Brandon.
Is that... how is that even possible?” Sitting up, agitated by my own
questions, I ignored how Angel jumped away angrily. “He died, Grandpa.
He died. Didn't he?”
My grandpa sighed. “Fiona, do you remember when we were young and
your grandmother died?
 Though I'd only been six at the time, I had a vague memory of attending
that funeral. “Yeah, why do you ask?”
“For the longest time after your grandmother had passed, and this is
going to sound silly, I could swear that she was still there with me.
Sometimes I would catch a glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye, as if
she was still there with us.”
I listened to his words, mulling them over. “So, you think I'm being
haunted?”
“That, or maybe he's just looking out for you.”
Thinking how he had rescued me from Mark the night before, it was
hard not to agree with that. I almost brought it up, then stopped. The last
thing I need is my grandpa to be thinking about me going out drinking with
other college kids out in the middle of the desert. I quickly moved to change
the subject. “Maybe you're right. Maybe he is just looking out for me. It
could be that I'm just too stressed lately, I'm seeing things.”
He laughed. “As long as you're just stressed out about your classes.”
We shared a few more tidbits, but I hurried to hang and end the
conversation. It was impossible for me to not keep going over what he'd
said. That Brandon was somehow still looking out for me. That he had been
guarding me all along.
I couldn't deny that he had rescued me at the last moment. It was all a
little too convenient. Had he followed me out into the desert? I hadn't seen
him in two years, and the last time I had seen him wasn't a fond memory.
Yet now, here he was, acting like some kind of guardian angel from the
shadows.
A guardian angel.
I needed answers. I had a horrible idea on how I might get them.

****

I had avoided going outside the entire day due to my funk over my
strange night. Even so, it was darker outside than I expected it to be when I
finally walked down my front steps. It was late in the evening. The thick
clouds over head, the remnants of the recent storm, blocked out what light
the moon or stars would normally bring. Normally this would keep me from
heading down the road that I was planning.
However, I had a goal.
My shoes were the only sound on the asphalt as I wandered deep into
the downtown restaurant district. It was too late for anybody to be having
dinner, I was virtually alone on the streets. Pulling my jacket tighter around
me, I purposefully weaved deeper. The back alleys that no one dared cross
through, occasionally during the best of times, were in my reach.
If Brandon's really protecting me, the only way I'll be able to find out is
if I give him a reason to do so.
It was probably one of my worst ideas, but I was desperate. I didn't
know how else to get what I wanted. There wasn't anyone that could
possibly understand how to help me. What advice could someone offer to
help me find my long dead boyfriend?
A reckless idea, but... I fingered the kitchen knife under my jacket. It
wasn't much, but it felt better than nothing. If it goes badly, I'll be grateful I
have something.
As I rounded the corner, dodging around a pile of recently emptied
trash, I heard the low thrum of voices. Ahead of me I saw a group of men.
Their faces were lit up by the red glow of cigarettes. Leaning on the brick
alley walls they talked to one another, laughing raucously over some
unheard joke.
My palms, buried deep in my pockets, were soaked with my sweat.
Maybe this isn't such a good idea, I thought to myself. Maybe this was a far
stupider decision than I realized.
Hesitant steps brought me closer to them. I unconsciously began to lean
further away from where they were. It didn't matter. They were already
looking at me.
One of them, a heavy-set man whose face shone with grease, smiled in
my direction. “Hey, sweetie,” he grunted. “You look a little lost. Do you
need some directions?”
I said nothing, I ducked my chin and walked faster.
“Hey!” he called out to me. “I asked you a question.”
Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit.
Ahead of me, the opening in the alley beckoned. It seemed miles away.
The instant I crossed in front of him, his hand reach out to grab my elbow.
“Hey!” he said again. “I said I asked you a question!”
 Shouting, I tried to yank away. Amazingly, he let me go. My relief was
short lived. Backpedaling, I stumbled into the arms of one of the other
thugs. Easily he wrapped his long arms around me from behind, trapping
me against him.
“What are you, deaf? Or do you just not want to talk to a nice couple of
guys like us?” I could smell the bitter stench of brandy on his breath.
“Let me go!” I screamed. In response they began laughing. Like sharks,
they surrounded me, their faces dark in the shadows. Even so, I could see
their rotten teeth curling into pleased smiles.
The first man stared me down, his fingers gripping my chin. “That's
what it is,” he said calmly. “She just has no manners!” Behind me, the other
man laughed. I couldn't take it anymore, I closed my eyes tightly.
“Well then, I guess it's her lucky day! We're real good at teaching
manners.”
Wildly, I tried to get my arm free. I need to get my knife! I need to do
something! I was breathing so hard my lungs began to ache. I was sure if
they had let me go at that moment, I would simply drop to the ground. How
did I think this was a good idea, I wondered. How in the hell could this
possibly help me get closer to Brandon?
I felt a flicker of cynicism. Maybe tomorrow he'll see my name in the
paper.
On my face, the fingers squeezed. The sound of their amusement grew
louder, making me positive there was no talking my way out of this one. I
was sure I was done for; too weak, too powerless, too stupid to escape the
situation.
And I only had myself to blame.
The blood in my ears pounded louder, blocking out the noise around
me. It dulled everything so much that I almost missed the sound of the first
man's scream.
The one behind me yelled, his grip loosening. I didn't know what was
happening, before I could even open my eyes I felt myself shoved aside.
Something else had the attention of the thugs. Something far more pressing
than me.
Stumbling on the ground, my palms scraped in the grime. I wrenched
my head back so that I could understand what was happening. The alley
was dim, the scene was hard to make out. Despite that, I saw enough to
grasp what was going on. I couldn't deny what was happening before me.
 One of the men was crumpled in a heap. I was sure the wetness by his
head had to be blood. Brandon had his hands around the necks of two
others, snarling like no human should have been able to. He threw them
across the alley, the crunch of metal as they collided with a dumpster
echoed.
“Who the hell are you?” The first man who had spoken to me, he faced
Brandon with uncertainty. He braced himself, staring at Brandon in
disbelief. “What's wrong with you? You on drugs or something?”
In response, Brandon took a step towards him. Before, I could feel cruel
smugness from the thugs. Now I only sensed fear. It didn't matter to them
who Brandon was, all they needed to know was how easily he had
dispatched three of their comrades all on his own.
Suddenly, the man who had held me ran at Brandon. In his hand I
caught a quick glimpse of something shiny. Something curved and deadly.
“Look out!” I cried, digging into my jacket for my own blade. My
warning was too slow, I was too slow.
The knife dug into Brandon's side, slipping through his ribs. I covered
my mouth, horrified at the sight. I expected him to fall. I expected him to do
anything except what actually happened.
Reaching down, he grabbed the man's arm, twisting it quickly. The
bitter crunch of the sound of bones breaking made ill. The knife-wielder
screamed, his voice cracking. He didn't stop until Brandon threw him aside,
his head hitting the hard wall, knocking him unconscious.
The hilt of the knife still jutted from Brandon's flesh, he didn't seem to
care. Green eyes, wild with rage, fixed on the remaining thug. They squared
off.
There was a long moment where I wondered if the other man was
actually going to attack Brandon. Blood was seeping from my old
boyfriend's wound, dripping to the ground below. Stepping backwards
slowly, sweat pouring off of his chin, the man turned and ran. For a second,
Brandon hunched low, reminding me of a lion on the prowl. I had a horrible
vision of him chasing his enemy down. Of him tackling him to the ground,
finishing him off. Before he could take a step, I called to him.
“Brandon!” I said desperately. “Stop! Don't leave!”
He froze on the spot, turning my way as if seeing me for the first time.
The anger, the hardness to his features melted away. Sensing this was my
chance, that he wouldn't run away from me, I rose to my feet. My knees
threatened to buckle but I stubbornly ignored them, moving in his direction.
“Brandon,” I said again, looking pointedly at the knife. “You're hurt.”
Wincing, he gripped the handle, tearing it free from him with a growl.
Carelessly he tossed it aside, letting it land in the rubbish. It was unlike
anything I had ever seen. In movies, you sometimes saw the hero rip
weapons from his body, but never in real life.
In real life, a knife would drop you to the ground. In real life, a wound
like that should have been mortal, or at least incapacitating.
Brandon stood before me in the alley, acting like he didn't even feel the
pain. I didn't know what to do. The boy I had known two years ago, he was
nothing like this. I should have been more concerned with the fact that he
was alive at all, but right then all I could wonder was what had changed
him. What had made Brandon Beck so different?
“Does it hurt?” I asked, looking up into his stoic face.
Lifting his shirt up, exposing his torso, he shrugged. “It'll be fine. Give
it a couple hours, max.”
“Give it a couple hours, max?” I repeated. The first glimpse of fear
appeared on his face. He realized what I had realized, that what he'd said
made absolutely no sense. How could a knife wound be 'alright' in a couple
of hours?
My mind was a whirlwind.
I'd seen Brandon lift Mark off of me in the desert like he was a kitten.
I'd watched him dispatch a group of thugs without breaking a sweat. In
front of me, the gaping wound still dripped bright crimson onto the filthy
ground. That wasn't normal. That wasn't human.
“I need to go,” he said, turning away from me suddenly.
“What?” I asked in disbelief. Reaching out, I grabbed for him, but he
was too fast. Pulling away, he began to walk towards the end of the alley,
not looking back at me.
“Stop! Brandon! How can you just leave like this? Talk to me. I haven't
seen you in two years, and you show up and this—all of this happens and—
and you expect me to stand here while you just leave? Like I'll just say
okay, bye, good to see you. Hope you have a good life?”
I could see the tension in his shoulders. I followed after him, but he
quickened his pace, as though he wanted to escape me. That was it, I
couldn't take it anymore. Rushing forward, I grabbed at his wrist, digging in
and holding tight.
“Brandon!” I screamed, my voice ricocheting around us. “Tell me what
happened! Tell me how you're still alive!”
He stopped. He was facing away, but he had stopped.
My voice was soft, cracking with the emotion that I had kept pent up for
far too long. “How could I have thought you were dead for two years, and
here you are in front of me acting like nothing happened? How is that
possible, Brandon. Tell me.”
He tugged his arm away, so I let go. “Fiona,” he said, and just hearing
him say my name made me shiver. “It's not the kind of thing that I can
explain. And even if I could, I'm not sure that I would want to.”
He met my eyes. I gestured behind me at the bodies of the fallen men,
people that I hoped were still alive. “Can you explain that?” I asked. I didn't
bother to hide the stiffness in my tone. “Can you explain how it's possible
for you to fight all those men and walk away without a scratch?” Pausing, I
pointed to his knife wound. “Sorry, walk away like that is a scratch?”
He reached down, finger the torn hole in his shirt that the knife had
gone through. “If I told you, you wouldn't even believe me.”
My laugh was sour. “You're standing in front of me. I saw you get
pulled away in a flood, Brandon. Whatever you tell me, I have no choice
but to believe. This is already impossible.”
For the first time since he had come back into my life, Brandon smiled.
It was the first time he had looked like the boy I remembered from two
years ago. “You're right,” he said, rubbing his neck sheepishly. “When you
put it like that, it's stupid of me to think you wouldn't listen.”
“Not just listen,” I said. “I'll believe you, Brandon. I'm already—right
now—everything just...” I couldn't talk anymore. Here I was, standing in an
alley with Brandon Beck. It was too much for me. Tears blurred my vision,
and I just started to laugh.
“What is it?” he asked, clearly concerned. “What's wrong?”
Shaking my head, I wiped at my eyes. “I'm just—I'm so happy right
now. I'm standing here in an alley, watching you bleed, and I'm the happiest
I've been in as long as I can remember.”
I could feel his hesitation, but he reached out, hugging me around the
shoulders. It wasn't as tender as I'd wished it had been. Still, it was enough.
 “You really want to know how I'm here right now? How all of this
happened?” he asked.
“I do,” I insisted, rubbing at my cheeks. “But maybe we should do it
elsewhere?” I glanced worriedly at the bodies of the men.
As if sensing my unease, Brandon gave my shoulders a quick squeeze.
Then, he stepped back. “Don't worry about them. They'll be sore, but they'll
live.”
My eyes tracked over the smear of blood on the temple of one of them.
“You're sure?”
“I'm sure,” he insisted. “Their leader ran off, he'll come back with help.
They could be much worse off than this. Believe me.”
I'm not sure if that's as comforting as he thinks.
“Alright. If you're sure. We should get out of here before they wake up,
or someone finds us here. Do you—do you want to come back to my place?
For coffee?” It sounded out of place, such an ignorant question. He's still
bleeding and I'm asking him out for coffee? Ugh.
Brandon shook his head, looking amused. “You know, that's the best
thing I've heard in a long while. Yeah, let's go.”
 Chapter 6.

Angel did not like Brandon.

The second I cracked my front door, leading him in behind me and
wishing my place was cleaner, Angel began hissing. I'd never seen her like
that, her eyes wide, every bit of white fur standing on end.
“Angel,” I chided her, motioning for her to get out of the way. She'd
planted herself only a few feet from the door, like she was guarding the
apartment. “Angel! Stop that, what's wrong?”
Behind me, Brandon leaned over my shoulder. “Guess she doesn't like
me.”
Blushing, I moved out of the way, closing the door. “I'm sorry! She's
never done anything like this before.” Shooting a glare at the cat, I
grumbled. “Quit it. Come on, stop.”
“Don't worry about it,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Cats aren't my biggest fans.”
Smoothing the top of my ponytail, I nudged at Angel with my foot.
Reluctantly, she slunk away until she vanished into my bedroom. Not once
did she take her eyes off my guest.
“Maybe she smelled the thugs on me or something,” I wondered out
loud.
Brandon frowned, looking around my apartment curiously. “Mn. Nice
place, Fiona. How are you affording this?”
“Grandpa.” I tossed my jacket onto a chair, moving into the tiny
attached kitchen. Filling up the coffee pot with water, I set it to brew. “After
everything that happened... you know, back then,” I glanced at him,
furrowing my eyebrows. “He was the only one left who could take me. He
lives on the border of South Dakota still, he's been paying for me to go to
school here.”
His mouth quirked into stiff line. “I see.”
Wetting a towel, I moved over to him on nervous legs. “Here,” I said,
gesturing at the blood soaked side of his body. “You uh, you should take
your shirt off, it's ruined. Then we should really clean that wound.”
 “It's fine,” he said softly.
“Nope. Off with it.” I tried to tease. The tension was too much, now that
we were standing there together. I had too many questions, he had all the
answers.
When he shrugged, hooking his fingers in the hem of his torn shirt and
pulling it over his head... he only gave me more things to think about. “I'm
telling you, it's okay, Fiona.”
Gawking at the reddish, smooth smear on his ribs where the knife gash
had been left me speechless. He really did heal up. Water from the cloth
dripped to the floor, but I didn't care. Running my eyes over his long torso
—the shapely rippling muscles and the powerful confidence in his wide
shoulders—I stared into Brandon's face. “You were telling the truth.”
“I was,” he agreed somberly.
“How?” Licking my lips, I searched for a more detailed question.
“How?” I asked again, giving up any semblance of being relaxed.
Squeezing the shirt in his palms, Brandon looked from my face, to the
floor, then back again. “Fiona, it's a long story.”
Behind us, the coffee pot burbled, its bitter scent filling the air. “Sit, and
tell me.” I dropped the cloth in the kitchen sink, then reached for his shirt.
Hesitantly, he gave it up, so that too ended up in the basin. “We've got all
the time in the world right now,” I said gently, opening my cupboards. “I
want to know everything. No,” I said, filling two mugs with fresh coffee.
“No, more than that. I need to know.”
He said nothing, just watched me as I worked. Seeing me nod my chin
at the couch, he followed, sitting down on the plush cushions like they
might bite him. Taking a mug from me, he sniffed at it. “You're really
sure?”
“I am. Without a doubt, I'm more sure about this than anything else.”
The coffee felt wonderful on my throat, close to scalding. Sitting across
from each other, only an arm's length between us, I focused on him.
Everything in his face, in his body language—the fact that he was still bare
from the waist up—it had my complete attention.
Between his healed wound and his sculpted body, it was hard to decide
where to look.
Sighing, he took a sip of his drink. “Damn, that's good. I haven't had
coffee since...” He waited, then chuckled. “This is harder than it should be.”
“Why?” I asked, lifting my eyebrows.
 His smile was shy, it made my heart flutter with memories. “I've never
told anyone what happened. You're going to be the first.”
My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, so I just covered my silence
with my mug.
Inhaling slowly, his chest flexing wide, Brandon launched into his tale.
“I don't need to tell you about the flood. You, of all people, know what
happened that night. But,” he whispered, staring down into his drink, “you
also don't know, at the same time. Fiona, when I got you onto that roof... all
I could think about was how I needed to protect you. To keep you safe, even
if it meant I'd lose my own life.” His laugh was jaded, yet his eyes—those
perfect green eyes—when they lifted, they held the sparkle I remembered.
Some of him hasn't changed. Whatever happened, it left some of him
whole.
“Fiona,” he went on, “the last thing I saw that night was your face. I
looked up, felt relief, and then the flood took me under. It yanked at me,
keeping me from surfacing or getting air. In that moment, I knew I was
going to die. It was... strange,” he murmured. Looking to the side, seeing
something I didn't, he smiled. “I was confident I'd gone out like a hero.”
My words exploded, a righteous life of their own. “How can you glorify
that? You abandoned me, you left me to live this stupid life without you!”
Catching myself, seeing his hurt, his surprise, I bit my cheek. “How is it
'heroic' to give up what I—what we...”
“Shh,” he said, quieting me. “Let me finish. You're right. It was dumb, I
blame teenage delusion.” The twinkle in his grin disarmed me, easing my
wave of umbrage. “If I hadn't survived, you wouldn't be able to chastise me
now about my naïve thoughts.”
“But how are you alive?” I asked, noticing how much I was leaning
towards him.
Tapping his finger on the rim of his mug, Brandon closed his eyes.
“Right, how. After I was pulled under, my head slammed into... something.
There was so much in that water, it doesn't matter what it was. I blacked
out. The next thing I remember, I was waking up in the middle of the
forest.”
Hanging on his every word, I reminded myself to breathe.
“I was confused, as I bet you can imagine. And that was when I saw the
wolf.”
 Coffee spilled onto my lap, making me gasp. Wiping at it, I motioned at
him not to worry. “No, don't stop there. It's just stupid coffee. You saw a
wolf?”
Brandon settled back, placing his mug on the nearby end table. I copied
him, deciding I was too hyped up to trust myself not to pour more out
accidentally. “Yeah. It was dark all around me... but I could see the wolf.
Hell, I couldn't miss it. He was gigantic, Fiona. Blacker than pitch, eyes the
color of ice. He was staring right at me, staring through me, I swear.”
The look on his face, I didn't doubt him... yet, I didn't understand. “Why
was there...?”
“He'd saved me.”
If he hadn't been so serious, if I hadn't had such a strange two days, I
would have laughed. “Saved you. You're telling me a wolf pulled you out of
the flood?”
“More than that,” he said under his breath. I watched him rub at his leg,
nails twitching just above his knee. “He changed me, Fiona. Changed me!
He told me it was the only way to make sure I'd live, that he'd given me
back my life and I—I—...”
With my brain throbbing, I shook my head. “Slow down, you aren't
making sense. 'He' said? The wolf talked to you?” He sounds delirious,
what if whatever happened to him has left him unstable? A wolf, talking to
him?
Brandon stood abruptly, fingers working at the button of his jeans. It
was so fast, he had them partly down his hips before I found my voice.
“Whoa, hey! Brandon, what are you doing?”
Not answering, he revealed the top of his tight briefs. The muscles of
his lower stomach flexed, showing me far more of any man than I'd seen
before. Never mind seen alone, in my apartment. Waving my hands, my
panic flaring, I made a few uneasy noises.
He turned towards me, stopping my dismay on my tongue. He'd yanked
his pants down to his knees, revealing not just his well-toned thighs, but the
gruesome scarring on top of his left leg. It looked like something huge had
mangled his flesh, leaving behind deep grooves the width of my palm.
The sight of it made my belly clench, removing any hilarity over the
fact that Brandon Beck was standing before me in just his underwear.
“What is that?”
 “This,” he said bitterly, “is from the wolf. He bit me, Fiona. He
deliberately bit me, transformed me, to save my life.”
“Transformed you,” I breathed out.
Lifting his chin, his mouth tighter than elastic, Brandon challenged me
with his eyes. “I'm a werewolf, Fiona. I'm a god damn werewolf.”
I couldn't tear my eyes from that scar.
“Fiona?”
Is this real, can this be possibly real?
“Fiona, hey.”
Can Brandon really be—no, no that's not...
He touched my shoulder, startling me. Wide-eyed, I looked from his
thigh, to the fading pinkness of the earlier knife wound. That cut, fresh as it
had been, looked more healed than the marks on his thigh. That healed, but
the bite wound didn't? “Show me. Show me you're a werewolf.”
Wrinkling his forehead, he bent to pull up his jeans. “No. It's too
dangerous, for both of us.”
I didn't like the sound of that. “Dangerous, like you might hurt me? I
don't believe it.”
He eyed me with scrutiny. “Fiona, you don't get it. I wouldn't want to
hurt you. I've just never transformed around something I wasn't planning
to...” Trailing off, he glanced away. “To kill.”
“You want me to take you at your word. To just believe that you were
saved by a werewolf, that you are a werewolf, and this isn't some weird
joke?”
Brandon didn't flinch, didn't break eye contact. “I'm a werewolf, Fiona.
You told me you'd believe whatever I said.”
He's so intense. Why would he lie about this to me? “I did say that, but
this... If I hadn't seen all the pieces tonight, I wouldn't believe you.” I
tugged at my hair, unsure what to do with my hands. “A werewolf.
Brandon, if you think it's too risky to—to change or whatever, alright.”
“You really believe me?” He looked so relieved.
“Maybe I'm dumb, but... You're standing in front of me, I watched you
throw full-grown men around, and those scars, well. It would be a pretty
elaborate joke.”
He scrubbed at his neck, then up to his skull. “Dammit, I wish I was
joking.”
 My fingers dug into my shirt, making it bunch. “Hold on. You were
telling me this is how you managed to live.” How you managed to come
back to me. “Why would you wish you were joking?”
“You don't know what it's like.” Holding his forehead, he fell down onto
the couch heavily. “You can't grasp how everything has become so awful.
Fiona, I'm not the person you knew back then. I lived, but I didn't get my
life back.”
Desperately I yearned to comfort him. The pain wracking his face was
making my heart squeeze. “Brandon, you're the same person. Okay? People
don't just stop being themselves—”
“People?” Grunting, he narrowed his eyes at me. “People might not, but
I'm not a person anymore. I'm a monster.”
I reached out to touch his knee. He twitched, I could see the tension in
his neck. “Monsters don't save people.”
There was a flash of shame in his eyes. “You couldn't have expected me
to just let you get hurt.”
“No,” I agreed, my smile lifting upwards. “I sort of counted on you
showing up, actually.”
Brandon stared at me, unblinking. Then, so loud it shocked me, he
began laughing. “You did that on purpose? Fiona! You sneak, you... are you
insane?” Scratching at his shaggy, light brown hair, he looked me over like
he'd only just noticed me.
“Maybe. Who knows.” Shrugging, I moved my hand back. Brandon
reached down, catching it like it was a mouse. His palm was warm, my face
warmer.
“Fiona, that was reckless,” he said gently. “You could have been really
hurt.”
Meeting his gaze, I fought to speak around my numb tongue. “I brought
a weapon, I wasn't unprepared.” That's a lie, I couldn't even get my knife
out. “But I knew you'd save me.”
“How could you know that?”
“I just did.”
We eyed each other, I felt like I was daring him—but daring him to do
what? Deny my words, tell me I was wrong?
Breathing out through his teeth, so hard it whistled, he hung his head.
“You weren't supposed to see me, not yet. I'd hoped you'd think I was just a
figment when you caught me looking through your window. But then that
kid, he just...”
Carefully, I squeezed his hand until he looked at me. “You mean Mark.
Yeah. That shouldn't have happened, he got drunk and it just spiraled. I
wanted to thank you for that, too.”
“It's nothing,” he said, eyebrows furrowing. “Uh, hey. About that guy.
You and him, was I stepping on your toes or anything? I mean, are you
two...”
“Oh! No. No no no.” Pulling my hand away, I tugged at my hair,
twisting the ends. “Not at all. Mark is just a friend. Or, I mean, he was. I'm
not so sure after what he tried.”
I swore he looked pleased. “Right. Got it.”
The silence, temporary or not, was heavy with my discomfort. How do I
even explain to him what I've been doing, why nothing would have ever
happened with Mark?
With anyone?
My gaze roamed back to his legs, he was too close to avoid it. The scars
were hidden under his jeans, yet they drew me like a bug to a lamp, just
knowing they were there. “So... a werewolf. That word sounds so weird to
say out loud.”
“It's far weirder to be living it.”
“Well,” I murmured, casting a shy look at him. “I'm living it too, now.
What's it—what's it like, Brandon? Does it hurt or anything? Oh gosh, is
that a dumb question?”
Leaning back into the couch, he sighed. “Not dumb, no. It doesn't really
hurt anymore. When I transformed the first time... that was hell. Hector
tried to warn me, it's just not the sort of thing you can prepare for.”
“Hector?”
Cracking his neck, he frowned slightly. “Hector is the werewolf who
changed me.”
Nodding slowly, putting the pieces together, I found myself dancing
around the one thing that really bothered me. “Brandon,” I started
tentatively, “don't take this the wrong way. If you were saved, if this wolf
rescued you back then... why did you wait two years to contact me?” My
voice cracked at the end, the emotional roller-coaster too strong. All this
time, thinking the boy I loved had drowned, that we'd just never found his
body, when all along he was alive.
 Shutting his eyes, as if that question was too much, Brandon huffed out
through his nose. “Fiona, I couldn't come back to you. To anyone, really. I
didn't have a choice. Hector changed me, and it took me two years before I
had enough control over myself to find enough free-will and escape him.”
“Escape him?” I hadn't considered the idea that his savior was someone
he needed to run from. “I thought he saved you?”
“'Saved' me, sure. Bare with me, Fiona. There's so much that happened,
it's hard to know where to even begin or end. I didn't know anything about
werewolves until meeting Hector, I might not be the best at explaining the
details.”
He sounded vulnerable, something I hadn't expected. He'd been so
tough, so dangerous, but before my eyes he was sinking into the couch like
the world was crushing him. I couldn't handle it, seeing him so broken.
Inching forward, I leaned my shoulder against his. In the nearness of his
skin, his heat, I could smell the scent of earth. “Just try your best, Brandon.”
His eyebrows touched his hairline. I was relieved when he didn't try to
move away. “Alright. I'll try.” Brandon took a slow breath. “Hector was the
one to turn me. He was... he was an alpha, a wolf who wanted to control
anything he could. His power, his confidence... I'd never run into anything
like it. When he bit me, some part of him took over. Call it instinct,” he
laughed bitterly.
“Instinct?”
“Yeah,” he went on, sounding less amused. “I couldn't resist him. I
wanted to leave, immediately in fact. Hours after the flood, I'd healed up
enough to run. My heart craved running back to the town, to try and help...
to save you, my family.” His mouth twisted sharply. “Fiona, it hurt so bad.
But Hector, he made me follow him. We ran into the forest, just... ran. I
couldn't disobey him, even when I learned to transform.”
My chest thrummed, eyes watering at the idea of him wanting to come
back, being unable to. To know everyone was in danger... dying... and to be
helpless. I knew that feeling too well, trapped on the roof and watching
Brandon get pulled away. Hearing the screams of my friends, my parents.
Lifting a hand in front of us, he made a tight fist. “I had all this strength.
I could outrun a deer, or a car. I could tear logs apart. Kill—fighting,” he
corrected himself uneasily, “was easy. But not when it came to Hector.
Whenever I tried to resist him, nothing happened. I was a slave to him. For
two long years, I had to endure.”
 Licking my lips, I lifted my head. I noticed, then, how close our faces
were. “What changed?”
Peering down at me, Brandon parted his lips. “You probably don't
remember what last week was.”
Last week...
Tucking my hair behind my ear, I pushed away from him. I saw him
frown, and that made my stomach swim. Walking with a purpose, I
approached the calender nailed to my front door.
“Fiona?” he called to me, baffled.
Lifting the papers, I brought them back to the couch. When I pointed to
May fifth, my finger was trembling. I'd circled the day in red, and in the
middle, I'd written five words.
“Do you honestly think I would have forgotten?” I asked him. “But
how? How could that have set you free?”
His green eyes stared, locked on the calender. “Thinking about it, it
reminded me of what I'd lost. Fiona, it gave me the strength to finally break
away... and to come find what I'd been forced to stay away from for far too
long.” Reaching out, he gripped my wrist. Easily, I fell into his lap on the
couch. Even easier, I let his lips—the only lips I'd ever desired—brush
against my own.
The calender, forgotten, fluttered to the floor. The words I'd written
glowed in the light.
'Anniversary of Our First Kiss.'
 Chapter 7.

Though we both wanted the other, wanted to kiss and touch and feel the
pulsing heat of our bodies... it had been two years. Such a long time since
we'd once sat by the river, tasted the shy exploration of our bodies.
In our haste, there was also hesitance.
My breathing was rapid, lashes fluttering as I fought to meet the
intensity of his emerald gaze. Sitting in his lap, cradled against his firm
chest, his heart vibrated like a song. “Are you alright?” I whispered,
wondering why he was... was that a scowl? Did I do something wrong?
“Yeah, I'm fine,” he mumbled. It didn't convince me, not at all.
Fighting to find my confidence, I placed my palms on his shoulders.
Shifting awkwardly, I made myself straddle him. Instantly, he grit his teeth,
eyes squeezing shut. I'm definitely doing something wrong. “Brandon, what
is it?” A million awful ideas rumbled through my mind. It was too easy to
imagine how I was messing up.
I'd longed to hold this man again, I'd sought out dark dreams just to
keep his memory fresh. Now, I wanted so badly to enact the warm, exciting
acts I'd only read about.
And, maybe, that was the problem. If he senses how nervous I am, how
inexperienced, maybe I'm letting him down.
His fingers found my cheeks, keeping me steady. Imploringly, he stared
into my face. “It's nothing. Not really. I just—I haven't been so close to
anyone, not since you. I'm worried I might mess up, and I'm scared I'll
lose...” Glancing away, his expression melted to frustration. “I'm terrified
I'll lose control, that I could hurt you.”
He's scared he'll hurt me? Please. My giggle was nervous, it made him
release me. “Brandon, it's alright. This is my first time at this, too.”
“Really?” His disbelief was offensive.
Looking away, my lips pursed. “I was waiting for you, Brandon. Maybe
it's weird, or naïve, but I just couldn't let you go.”
Brandon was silent. My armor, built from dignity, cracked. Deflating, I
gazed back at him. The flash of his teeth, white as bone, sent a spark to my
core. “You really held out for me, after all this time?”
I folded my arms. “I blame teenage delusion,” I muttered, quoting him.
Chuckling, his hands found my jaw again. That time, they led me down
for a gentle, exploring kiss. What we'd experienced at sixteen, it paled in
comparison to the confident desire building between us.
This is really happening, I thought in wonderment. I'm kissing Brandon
Beck.
His jaw was rough with stubble, unlike the smooth skin I remembered.
It was rugged, making me tingle where he rubbed against me. Hard teeth
contrasted soft flesh. The first time he nipped me, tugging my lower lip, I
gasped.
“Was that too much?” he asked, husky in spite of his concern.
“No.” I was worried he'd stop. “It's just been forever since we—we
never—not like this, I mean...” My words trailed off, caught up in another
tangle of his seeking tongue. Powerful arms coiled around my waist, finger
tips dragging down my lower back. I'd been sitting on him, hovering over
his lap a scant inch. That distance was removed, his strength crushing my
hips down onto him.
I felt his need, the firm warmth bumping against me. I wanted it badly,
even while frightened by its taboo nature.
“God,” he hissed, breaking the kiss. His breath seared against my throat,
then my ear. “Fiona, you're killing me here. I'm not sure I can hold back if
we keep going.”
He's giving me an out. He's actually scared he might... what did he say?
Hurt me?
My body was all goosebumps and tense muscles. After waiting so long,
there was no way I was about to turn him down. Closing my eyes, I slid
down until I tasted the slick crook of his throat. So near to his Adam's
apple, his sudden growl shook me to my bones. It wasn't an angry sound,
just hungry.
“That's it, then?” he murmured, groaning as I nuzzled my way to his
chest. “You're not even a little worried I might get too into it? Fiona, I'm
incredibly strong, I don't—”
“Shut up already,” I said, giving him a wry smile.
Brandon opened his mouth, then obliged me.
Sitting back, I stared over his body with curious eyes. He was amazing,
all gleaming muscle and tan flesh. The knife wound was gone completely.
Balanced above him, I bent away to get a better view. “You look really
good,” I said, wishing I was more of a poet.
Grinning, Brandon moved his hands over my hips. “So do you.”
“No,” I argued, skin pink all over. “Not like you. You look like a Greek
statue.”
Arching his eyebrows, he hooked his fingers into the bottom of my
shirt. “Fiona, trust me. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.”
On reflex, I reached down to stop him. Brandon paused, peering into my
uncertain eyes with calm collection. His intense stare, it stirred something
deep inside of me.
My hands fell away.
Without waiting, he pulled the cloth over my head. My ponytail swung
with the motion, tickling my neck. No one had seen me like that, but if
anyone was going to, I was glad it was Brandon.
Throwing the shirt away, he inhaled deeply. “You're wonderful, believe
me. And... dammit, you smell fantastic.”
That surprised me, he was leaning at least a foot away. How could he
smell anything? But the look on his face, especially as he breathed in
sharply, was foggy with delight. I opened my mouth, trying to find
something to say.
It didn't matter.
Caught up in something I didn't understand, not fully, Brandon wrapped
his arms around me. I'd seen how easily he'd thrown Mark, how he'd taken
down the thugs. Now, on the receiving end of his strength, I felt a shiver.
He flipped me so quickly it left me dizzy. Stretched out, still catching
my breath, Brandon climbed on top of me. “Brandon, what—”
His decadent lips stole the air from my lungs. Weighing me down, he
crushed me into the cushions eagerly. His sudden need turned my brain into
wet oatmeal.
It was as if something inside of him had come to life. A wicked, dark
thing.
A beast.
The green eyes that stared down at me, they didn't recognize my face.
They were wavering with a turmoil of heightened lust. In that moment, I
felt afraid for myself. Brandon gripped my bra, snapping the pink fabric in
two. Chucking it aside, it hit the far wall of my kitchen.
 Bared to him so suddenly, I went stiff. This is too much! He's out of
control! “Brandon,” I rasped, my voice tiny in my ears. His heavy snorts
smothered the sound. “Brandon! Wait, slow down. Hey!”
His chest rubbed against mine, sending fire to my loins. I was conflicted
between my nerves, my desire. I'd wanted Brandon so badly, and here he
was. He was mine, and more than willing to show it.
But I didn't want it to be like this, not with him not even seeing me.
As he lowered his head, aiming to do... who knew what, I grabbed his
jaw. “Brandon! Stop, you're going to hurt me!” Like I'd slapped him,
stunned clarity appeared on his face. I watched his cheeks tinge pink, saw
him sit up over me, looking around.
“Fiona, I—I'm sorry, I don't know what...” Rubbing his neck, his shame
came off in waves.
He was still positioned over my hips on the couch. Pushing up on my
elbows, I grabbed him around the middle. Easily, he fell on top of me, not
resisting my firm embrace. Entwined there, lying on the cushions, I pressed
my forehead to his. “Calm down, it's alright. You just got excited.”
“No,” he argued, pain tight in his voice. He didn't pull away, I noticed
happily. “It was more than that. For a while there, I just... I forgot who I
even was.”
Forgot who he was? A flicker of worry bloomed. I'd let myself forget,
too. All too quickly, the history of Brandon's two years of forced exile came
back. I'd wanted so very much to erase it, to act like we were sixteen again.
Pretend nothing had happened.
I'm such a fool.
“Brandon, I'm sorry,” I said softly. He leaned back, just enough to stare
into my watering eyes. “Maybe I wanted this too fast.”
His confusion was plain, worse than his anger. “You don't want to do
this?”
“No! No, that's not what I mean. It's just that... you only just returned.
Right? It must be strange for you, being here.”
“Strange.” He considered the word, frowning. “A little. I haven't been
inside an apartment as a visitor in forever. Hector let us sneak into towns
sometimes, to steal things like clothes and stuff. It's actually how I learned
you were still alive.”
My fingers stroked along his back, feeling his thick muscles. “You saw
that bit on the news, then.”
 “Yeah,” he admitted. My blush was gentle, recalling that awful
interview. “I wanted to come back and find you, the instant I learned. It was
the same day I confirmed my parents were—listen. I always thought, if I
had gotten away that day, things might have been different.”
“Nothing between us has changed,” I said, defiant.
His smile eased me, his kiss on my nose making me smile. “Not
between us, exactly. But two years of running around in forests, hiding from
humans, sneaking in plain sight just to slip off with basic needs... Hector
didn't like people. He didn't want me, or him, around them if it could be
helped. Two years of living like that, being what I am... it changes a person,
Fiona.”
If I'd denied his words, I'd have been a liar. It was clear to both of us
that Brandon was different. Taking a breath, I traced the shape of his
forearms where they rested on either side of me. “You have changed.” His
flinch made my belly ripple. “But Brandon, so have I. That flood changed
both our lives, just in different ways.”
Tilting his head, he studied me with interest. “How did it change you?”
Meeting his gaze was hard, who enjoyed admitting their fears? “Do you
know why I came to this place, this college in Arizona? Why I picked
'business' as my career path?”
Wrinkling his nose, Brandon waited for me to continue.
“After what happened to our town, to my parents... I couldn't handle the
rain anymore. Water terrifies me, Brandon. Water. I can't go into rivers,
lakes. Not even oceans. The sound of a storm makes me want to vomit.”
Gently, he lifted a hand to wipe away the tears I hadn't even felt falling.
“I'm so sorry, Fiona. Why the business school thing, though?”
“Because it's safe,” I grumbled. Ashamed of my emotions, I rubbed at
my eyes quickly. “I used to want to go on adventures, to explore the world.
But I wanted to do those things with you, Brandon. Losing you changed my
life... it made me timid, it made me cynical.” My chuckle was acidic. “Like
I said, we're both different now.”
Astoundingly, he grinned. “It isn't a competition, Fiona. But fine. Being
scared of water is worse than becoming a horrific wolf-monster.”
Unable to help myself, I laughed. The sound exploded, contagious, until
we were both wrapped up on the couch in fits of giggles. It felt good. The
tension vanished with the last hiccups of our humor, our eyes sparkling
when they met.
 That time, when we kissed, I knew he was seeing me.
Suddenly conscious of my naked torso—and his—I bit my lower lip.
“Um, maybe I should go find something to wear.” Guess I'm replacing that
bra.
Brandon looked down at me, his grin devilish. “I like you like this.”
“I'm naked,” I scoffed.
He gave a simple shrug, beaming wider.
“Tsk.” Looking away, I tried to wriggle out from under him. He lowered
down, kissing the exposed side of my shoulder where I was twisting. Then,
encouraged by my small gasp, he slid to my ribs. “Brandon, hold on,” I said
weakly.
His mouth was hot wherever it roamed. “I promise, I'll be gentle this
time. Does that feel nice?”
“It does,” I admitted. Relaxing into the couch, I turned sideways until he
could kiss my lower back. That sensitive patch of skin, committed to his
curious touching, made me prickle. Holy cripes, that's fantastic! He sensed
I liked it, or perhaps it was instinct. Holding my waist, he rolled me over
onto my stomach.
Tracing the top of my jeans, his fingers slid under me. Finding my
zipper, he tugged until he released the clasp. To my credit, I didn't squeak.
The sound of my beating heart would have muffled any noises I made.
Down my pants went, revealing the plain black panties I'd worn. Now, I
wish I'd been in the habit of buying sexier stuff. Glancing back at him, I saw
the fog in his eyes. He was staring down at my body, slowly gliding his
palms down my hamstrings. As he did so, he pulled the jeans to my ankles.
They, too, joined the discarded clothing club.
Running a finger tip over my calf, he created tight goosebumps. I
inhaled sharply, drawing his attention. Seeing the red flush on my neck, my
face, he grinned. “You're really amazing, Fiona.”
“Am I?”
Nodding, Brandon explored the indents on the bottoms of my feet. It
tickled, but when I jerked in surprise, he just held my ankles tight. “You're
so perfect, I can't believe you managed to wait for me. How many boys did
you resist?”
“I didn't have to resist anyone... I didn't want anyone else.” Staring at
him seriously, I noticed his smile fall. “Brandon, I was always just waiting
for you. You're the only one I ever wanted.”
 “You'd have given up a future with anyone else, just because of your
hope for a dead guy?”
Shaking my head, my partially undone ponytail bounced. “Part of me
must have known. Somewhere inside, I just... I knew you would come back
to me.”
He was on me, seeking my lips with a desperate thirst. His jeans rubbed
against my thighs, rough on my sensitive skin. I didn't mind. Caught up in a
rush of light-headed delight, I shut my eyes. The sound I made, the moment
he reached under to cup my breasts, was decidedly unlady-like.
Everything he did was setting me aflame. Sweat rolled down the middle
of my back, friction from where his chest crushed into my shoulder blades.
Still wearing his pants, he ground against my backside. The thrill that
rocked me, it went low in my belly.
His hands left me, making me whine. I understood his reasoning soon,
the metallic crunch of his zipper in my ears. He'd given me a glimpse of his
briefs earlier, when he'd meant to just show me the ugly scars from Hector.
Knowing his intentions this time, it created a thumping pressure in my
chest.
Shyly, I looked over my shoulder. As if to oblige me, Brandon sat back,
kneeling over my calves. I got my first look at him.
At all of him.
The shape of his obliques, the hard lines of muscles that moved all the
way down to the patch of dark hair between his thighs; all of it kept my
attention. Brandon was beautiful—no, sexy—and he wanted me. After all
this time, I was still the person he wanted.
He looked into my eyes, his grin too crooked for me to keep my
composure. Turning away, I buried my forehead into the arm of the couch.
Behind me, I felt him slide my panties down. Cool air tickled me, before the
pure lust of his flesh warmed over my lower back.
Gently, he pressed down on me. His voice in my ear was thick, like
honey pouring over milk. “I'll go slow, okay?”
“Yeah,” I croaked, reaching out to grab his forearm as it circled in front
of me.
He kissed my temple, and that was the last instant of his sweetness.
Reaching between us with his free hand, Brandon aimed himself at my
virgin folds. I knew it would hurt, that's what I'd been told growing up. First
times, they'll always bring pain.
 Perhaps I was too excited, or maybe people had exaggerated. All I knew
for sure, was that when Brandon Beck pushed himself inside of me, I just
remembered the noise I made. I didn't recall anything else.
If it had hurt, I was oblivious.
Panting, I wiggled beneath his weight. True to his word, he was slow...
at first. I couldn't blame him when he started thrusting more desperately, I
was just as eager. But Brandon was on top, he had control of me entirely.
Trying to meet him, to keep up, was futile.
Brandon wanted me on his own terms. If I had any doubt he'd desired
me as much as I had him over the past two years... it vanished.
My cheek rubbed on the couch, fingernails digging into his arm. It was
my life preserver in the flood that was Brandon Beck. He overtook me, ate
me up with a consumption that seemed impossible to quench.
Did he lose control of himself again? The idea was frightening, yet my
own hot passion made it impossible to halt him. I didn't want him to stop, I
didn't care if he had lost himself in the process of making love to me for the
first time.
I just want him, I want Brandon. I don't care what that entails.
I don't care what he's become.
Groaning wantonly, the boiling inside of me reached an abrupt peak. I
was sure, wherever Angel was, she was terrified of us both.
Brandon held me close, squeezing me with such force I coughed. He
was filling me, outside and in. Everything I lived was wet, luscious, and
decadent.
With a final growl, he slammed into me one more time. I had a brief
worry, thinking about how I hadn't insisted he wear a condom. Then I was
lost, wandering in a world of pure pleasure with my tingling release.
I'd closed my eyelids. I didn't realize until he turned me towards him for
a kiss.
Lashes danced over my cheeks before I stared into his deep green eyes.
“Hey,” I said stupidly.
“Hey.” Chuckling, he pulled the elastic from my messy hair. My
ponytail, what had been left of it, fell around my shoulders. “Are you
okay?”
Nodding, I rested my forehead on his chin. I could feel his pulse, never
wanting to lose it. “I'm great, actually. That was... Brandon, please tell me
this means as much to you as it does to me.”
 Slowly, he slid out of me. Both of us gasped, before he turned me over
so we were lying side by side on my couch. Our chests touched thanks to
the small piece of furniture. Reaching out, Brandon trailed his fingers over
my bare shoulder. “How could it not mean as much? Fiona, I've been
waiting for you for so long. You're what let me break away from Hector,
from a life in the wilderness with nothing but a wolf and his hatred for
humanity. You're everything to me, okay?”
My heart throbbed, threatening to steal my voice. “Then,” I whispered,
cheeks flaring crimson with my rising paranoia, my building hope. Oh God
what if he says no what if what if what if... “Then, do you—do you love
me?”
Brandon blinked, setting my anxiety through the roof. I'm so dumb, no
no, dammit take it back take it back. I parted my lips, ready to argue against
my own admission. He leaned forward, closing the space with a tender twist
of soft lips.
I wanted the moment to go on, to let it spare me from my humiliation.
Brandon leaned back, his fingers moving from my shoulder to the back of
my head. “Fiona, I've always loved you.”
Staring into his eyes, his confident smile, I wanted to say so much.
Instead, I just kissed him and didn't try. Nothing I said could have made
that moment any more perfect. Brandon Beck loved me.
That night, we slept on the couch together.
It was the first time I didn't have the nightmare about drowning.
 Chapter 8.

My first mission when I woke up the next day—besides ogling

Brandon's body as he slept on the couch where we'd passed out—was to
head out and find him something to wear.
The blood stained shirt was chucked into my trash, so ruined I
wondered why I'd thought it was worth trying to wash.
Shouldering my purse, I hurried out into the early morning grey.
There was a bounce in my step. Catching a glimpse of myself in a
window, I realized I was grinning like a moron. How can I not? After last
night... after everything... I've got Brandon back.
Pushing through the door of a clothing store, I wandered the racks until
I found something both cheap and proper. Lifting the dark yellow shirt in
front of me, I nodded to myself. This will do. He can come pick out
something else later. That thought gave me pause. What ARE we going to
do later? He's come back, I'm sure he plans to stay. Does he want to attend
school with me?
CAN he attend school? Money aside—and money is going to be an issue
—does he even have any identification? What happens if he comes out as
Brandon Beck, lone survivor after all these years?
Wrinkling my forehead, I gripped the shopping bag and headed home.
My steps were heavier, weighed down by realistic worries I didn't want to
entertain. The scent of fresh donuts hit my nose, a tiny bakery pulling me
close. Remembering my empty fridge, I gave in to impulse.
After all, Brandon was sure to wake up hungry.
Juggling a large box of warm, fresh pastries and a bag of clothing, I
used the inside of my elbow to twist my front door open. Angel's meows
met my ears, a sound that was so normal I didn't think about it. Not until I
looked up, spotting Brandon awake on the couch. The cat was in his lap,
enjoying his fingers working on her ears.
He was still shirtless. The sight reminded me too much of a cheesy
'male model' calender. “Oh! You're awake,” I said, kicking the door shut
behind me.
“Just for the last few minutes, your cat was getting antsy. I found the
cans of food and fed her, if that's alright.” He smiled up at me, a vision I
wanted to drink in.
Dropping the box onto the counter, my eyes moved to Angel's recently
emptied bowl. “That's fine. Thanks, actually. I was hoping I'd be back
before you got up.”
Brandon stood slowly, sending Angel hopping away. “Where did you
go? That box smells fantastic. Are those... donuts?”
I lifted my eyebrows, watching him approach. “In fact, they are. You
could smell that from there?”
He wandered close, bending down to sniff the box. “I could smell them
when you got outside the front door.” Peeling back the lid, he whistled.
“Fiona, you're wonderful!”
Thrilled with his reaction, I turned away to grab the bag of clothing.
“Am I? Originally, I went to get you a shirt to wear. The donuts were on the
way—hey!” I turned back to find him finishing off one of the pastries, a
second in his hand. “Slow down, we need to share those.”
He flashed me a devious look, chewing the rest of his mouthful. “Share?
Us?” Quick, his arm wrapped around my waist. His lips tasted like sugar
and strawberries.
Stunned, my body pressed into his warm skin. Oh, right. Shirtless.
Clearing my throat, I lifted the bag between us. “Uh, here. Thought you
might want something to go outside in after.”
He grabbed the bag gingerly, stepping back as he popped another donut
into his mouth. “Ahh shirrff?”
I squinted at him.
Wiping his face, Brandon tugged the clothing out into view. “Sorry. A
shirt?”
Peering into the box, I picked out a chocolate sprinkle covered pastry.
“You can't walk around partially nude.” Taking a big bite, I sighed at the
sweet burst of flavor. Though, I thought, glancing covertly over his
muscular figure, I wouldn't be the one complaining.
Dusting his hands on his jeans, sending crumbs drifting, Brandon
tugged the shirt over his head. The yellow material stretched, slightly too
tight across his shoulders. The result brought out a magnificent silhouette.
He ran his fingers over the front, across the indents of his abdominals.
“Does it look alright?”
Speaking was a bad idea, I choked on my donut. Covering my mouth, I
coughed. “Er—um, it looks great! Yeah!” It makes you look stunning!
Satisfied by my response, he rewarded me with a grin. “Thanks. You
didn't need to do all this for me.”
“It's nothing! Really,” I said, nibbling my breakfast. “I was thinking that
later, we could go out and get you some other things, too.” Brandon leaned
on the counter, destroying an eclair in two big bites. I looked on, my mouth
half open, not chewing or tasting. He's really wolfing those—no, ugh, bad
choice of words. “You uh, you're hungry.”
He paused with the last donut in the air, inches from his teeth. “...Oh!
I'm sorry Fiona, here, I didn't mean to eat them all!” Offering me the treat,
his cheeks flushed pink.
I waved my hands, pastry included. “No no no. It's fine, I just didn't
think you'd go through them so fast. Enjoy them, they're all yours.” My
smile was tender, but he still looked uncertain. “It's really okay, Brandon.
Have you not... you know, had donuts in a while?”
He scratched his neck. “I can't even remember when I had one last.
Hector made us hunt animals. I stole things like soap, or toothpaste. Small
things I could hide or carry easily, things even Hector admitted were hard to
replace in the forest. But food like this, he'd have smelled it before I'd even
considered stealing it.” He lifted the glazed dough reverently.
I understood a whole new aspect of what Brandon had gone through.
Tightening my mouth with determination, I grabbed his hand. He didn't
struggle as I put the other half of my breakfast in it, leaving him with two
donuts and a baffled expression. “Eat,” I said crisply. “I can get us more
later.”
First, he frowned. His eyes moved between the two treats, then to my
serious stare. His laugh weakened me, his quick kiss disarmed me entirely.
“Fiona, you're the best.” With that, he gobbled the glazed donut away,
leaving my remnants to savor.
Touching my mouth with my own fingers, I turned away, flustered.
“Actually, this brings up something I wanted to ask you.”
“Hmn?” His cheeks were bloated as he chewed.
“Brandon, uh... how do I put this?” Smoothing my hair, I began busying
myself with wandering the room, cleaning up. Our two mugs of coffee still
sat where we'd left them. Gathering them, I was reminded of our night of
passion. “You ran away from Hector. You've been out of society for two
years.” Two years. Donuts are like treasure to him.
Rubbing his hands together, he gave the empty box a wistful look.
“That's right. Where are you going with this?”
“Well, it's just...” Moving around him, I dumped the mugs in the sink.
“What happens now?”
He gave me a blank stare.
Quickly, I lifted my hands in appeasement. “That sounds bad. I just
mean, how do we help you get everything back to—back to normal? There's
no way you have an ID or anything, or any money, right?”
The knots in his shoulders were visible. “No, I don't have anything.”
Stepping close, unable to handle his scowl, I was hugging him before I
thought about my actions. In my arms, he was stone. “Brandon, that's not
true. You may not have some basic stuff, but you do have me.” Lifting my
head, I gave him my biggest smile. “The rest is easy, right?”
His body melted, hands wrapping in my hair firmly. “The rest is easier,
by a long shot. I love you, Fiona.”
Hearing those words again, it made my heart swell bigger than the first
time. “I love you, too. Brandon, you just returned to the world. You're going
to have a lot of people asking you questions, but we'll get through it. And,
when it's all done,” I murmured, resting my cheek on the yellow fabric over
his hard chest, “you'll have an ID, you can even get a job... or you can go to
school with me.”
He kissed the top of my head, stroking the curve of my back. “What
will I tell the police? That I ran away for two years?”
I don't know what he can tell them. It doesn't matter, he didn't do
anything wrong. “Just say you were rescued by someone who lived in the
woods, that you got amnesia or something.” Looking up at him, I lifted an
eyebrow. “People have it happen in the movies all the time.”
Snorting, Brandon gently pulled away. “Amnesia? Really?”
“Or whatever,” I said defensively. “Just tell them anything. It isn't
important, Brandon.” My fingers found his, entwining tight. “All that
counts is that we're together again. Everything from here on out... it's going
to be perfect.”
Nothing can take him away from me.
Nothing, and no one.
 ****

The first thing Brandon wanted to do was to take a shower.

I, of course, encouraged him to go right ahead. It wasn't until he'd been
in there, water running for over an hour, that I finally knocked. “Brandon?
You okay?” The pipes rattled, shower turning off abruptly. Standing back, I
gaped stupidly as he stepped out into the hall. Wrapped in just a towel
around his waist, skin gleaming brightly, he was... well. Hot. Just go with
hot.
“Sorry,” he said, not sounding apologetic at all. His smile was full of
boyish charm. “Guess I got carried away.”
Peeking into the bathroom, I observed the steam that had left everything
soaked. Man, hope the paint on the walls doesn't peel. “It's alright,” I said,
glancing at him sideways. “Was it nice?”
His answer was dreamy. “It was wonderful.”
Politely, I averted my eyes as he grabbed up his clothing. He'd redressed
in seconds, scrubbing his damp hair with the towel. “What now, Fiona?”
“I was thinking,” I said quietly, shooting a tiny glance at him to make
sure he wasn't naked, “that we could go downtown, give you a little tour?
Maybe get some stuff for you, then some lunch.”
He dropped the towel on the floor. Then, catching my dubious look,
picked it up quick. “Sorry. Didn't uh, didn't have to worry about where wet
towels went... before. Or towels at all, really.”
As he turned to go hang it in the bathroom, I stared at his back. His
action seemed innocuous, yet... I should try to remember how different his
life has been. He's going to need to adjust.
But it'll be fine. Right?
Brandon walked back, thumbs in his belt loops. “Downtown you said,
and lunch. You know, it kind of sounds like a date to me.”
My cheeks were warm, I made myself look into his sparkling eyes. “Is
that a problem?”
With careful precision, he tucked his fingers into the top of my jeans.
Pulling me close, Brandon's torso slid against me a second before his mouth
did the same. It was a lingering kiss, the sort that made your scalp tingle.
My lungs ached when it was over, as did the rest of me.
Just in a different fashion.
“How could that be a problem?” he whispered, eyes half-lidded. “Fiona,
what was the last date we went on? I mean proper date,” he said suddenly,
his forehead crinkling. It was clear he didn't want to refer to our six month
anniversary. The night of the flood. “Didn't we go to some, like, awful
movie?”
Giggling, I looked down at my feet. “You wanted to see 'The Giant
Returns,' not me.”
“I thought it would be scary,” he grumbled. “I figured you'd freak out
and cling onto me.”
Remembering that night in the theater, how he'd slid his arm around my
shoulders nervously... it was as if I could smell the buttery popcorn all over
again. “Yeah. Instead,” I said, breaking away with a sly smirk, “I spent the
whole time laughing at how dumb the movie was.”
Shrugging into his ears, Brandon scuffed his shoe on the floor. “Did you
have fun, though?”
“Yes,” I admitted, not needing to think. “Of course I did.” Reaching
over, I grabbed my purse. “Come on. Let's go have a real, proper date as
real proper adults, instead of awkward teenagers.” I can't promise I won't be
slightly awkward, I thought silently.
“Technically we're still teenagers.” He looked me up and down, eyeing
my outfit of plain jeans and a purple blouse. “You did say we could get
lunch, too?”
The strange idea he'd just looked me over, thinking of food, crossed my
mind. The doorknob was cold in my hand. “Um, of course. Wow, are you
hungry again already?”
Chuckling, he following me outside, his hand brushing over my wrist.
“What can I say? I have a big appetite.”

****

Our feet skipped across the sidewalk, carrying us downtown. Walking

with Brandon beside me, his eyes scanning everything, it managed to feel...
normal.
Normal, I like that.
Our smiles were big, hands occasionally touching shyly. It was as if we
were sixteen all over again. It was like we were reclaiming the life he and I
had lost.
Brandon strolled with his shoulders hunched, hands hooked in his
pockets when they weren't reaching out to touch me. He only did it casually,
for a second or two, but it felt like he was reminding himself I was there.
There were a number of stores downtown, the options for clothing
shopping too expansive. Humming to myself in thought, I dug my phone
from my purse. Maybe I should have looked up where to go, done some
research or...
“Oh,” Brandon said, peering over my shoulder. He was close enough for
me to get a whiff of his dizzy-spell inducing scent. “Nice phone. I haven't
touched one in—well.” Trailing off awkwardly, he leaned away.
The way he kept staring around at everything but me and my phone, it
was obvious what he wanted. “Here.” Lifting my hand, I poked him with
the device. “Go ahead, check it out. I was just looking for reviews about
where to find nice clothes for men around here.”
“You can do that on this?” He squinted at the phone, playing with the
screen.
I couldn't control my smile. “Phones have gotten pretty amazing.”
For some time, we stood in the shade of an overhang. Brandon was
entertained by the phone. I was having fun just watching his curiosity in
action.
Abruptly, his nostrils flared. “Hey,” he said, lifting his eyes from the
screen. Following his gaze, I saw we were standing beside a tiny pink shop.
“Is this what I think it is?”
“Er, ice cream?” Brandon didn't glance at me, he was ogling the store
front blatantly. He just ate all those donuts an hour ago, is he really hungry
again? “Did you want to go inside?”
“Can we?” He perked up, already opening the door. The smell of sweet
cookies and vanilla cones hit our face dead on. I inhaled gently, but
Brandon... the sound of his low pitched growl was obscene.
I followed him inside, considering the excited glint in his eyes. He
probably hasn't had ice cream in years. I can't imagine that, would I be just
as crazy about this kind of stuff if it was kept from me? Studying Brandon,
how he bounced on his heels and leaned over the big glass display of
flavors, a flutter of sadness washed over me.
All because of that guy... Hector. It was strange, part of me wanted to
thank the other werewolf—I still wasn't ready to think about that so
casually—for saving the boy I loved. Yet, hearing about everything
Brandon had endured because of Hector, it made me clench my hands.
Why would that guy hate people so much? I don't get it. I wonder if
Brandon knows.
“Fiona!” Brandon shouted, breaking into my moment of bitter angst. He
was pointing, cheek pressed to the glass. Above him, the store clerk looked
nervous. “They have so many flavors here! Let's get some, okay?”
My smile was helpless. “Sure, of course.”
It was a situation that made me swell, made me forget the dark thoughts
of hate in my mind. Thinking about Hector, about my anger for someone I
didn't know, was impossible when Brandon was in such a good mood.
Watching him trying to convince the clerk to let him have six scoops,
when the limit was five, brought me back down to reality. It was a moment
I wanted to delve into, to enjoy fully for all it was.
He tried to offer me my phone back, but I waved him off. “Hang onto it,
you can play with it some more after we eat.”
Beaming, he shoved it deep into his jeans pocket. After all, he needed
both hands to handle the monstrosity of ice cream he'd coerced the clerk
into giving him.
 Chapter 9.

I thought we would get lunch, but after stuffing myself with ice cream
my stomach wasn't so sure. Every place we passed that smelled good,
Brandon wanted to go inside. I'd lost my appetite, so I was relieved when
the next time he pointed at something it wasn't food.
“An arcade?” Blinking, he reached down to grab my hand. “Let's go
play together, how does that sound?”
With his warm fingers wrapped on mine, it sounded perfect. “Yeah, let's
check it out.” Truthfully, I didn't care what we did. As long as it made
Brandon happy, I was delighted. The fact we were spending the day
together, eating sweets and laughing, it seemed like an impossible dream I
was scared to wake up from.
The arcade was loud, full of children and teens as they ran between
blinking machines. It was difficult to hear without shouting, I covered one
ear and yelled. “Let's get some tokens!”
Brandon nodded, following me to one of the many machines that
dispensed the little disks. Popping in a few dollars, I gathered the metal
coins that clinked into the basin. Smirking, I dropped a few into his palms.
“Spend them wisely!” I cried, “they'll go fast!”
“You know,” he said, voice raised just enough for me, “you don't need
to scream. I can hear you just fine.”
Crinkling the bridge of my nose dubiously, I tried to judge how serious
he was. “Really? You can hear just fine over this racket?” I asked, softer...
testing him.
Bending down, he kissed my nose. My cheeks were on fire, and they
only got worse when I noticed some young teenagers were gawking at us
and giggling. “Yes,” he laughed. “Let's just say I've got good senses.”
Of course, I thought silently, staring at him as he walked away. If he
could smell those donuts from so far away, why am I so surprised? He's a
werewolf, I keep letting that part slide out of my brain like it doesn't matter.
That's because it doesn't matter. Not really.
 Looking up, catching the faces of the girls giving doe-eyes at Brandon, I
hurried over to him. He was standing beside a game that showed off two
guys with their fists raised. “Here, look, they made a game out of Giant
Hunter 2!”
Rubbing my forehead, I stared at the blinking screen. “You're kidding
me.”
“Let's play it, come on!”
“Alright alright,” I said, popping in some tokens. “This is going to be
worse than the movie was.”
“Maybe,” he admitted, his hip bumping against mine. “Or it might be as
fun as the night we saw it, that counts for something.” His touch, his words,
they made my mood soar.
The game began, so we started mashing buttons. It was, as I had
predicted, an awful creation. Our characters ran around on the screen,
chased by a giant who was intent on crushing them. The mechanics were
cruel, you died instantly on anything you touched. Soon, though we were
laughing over the noise of the buttons clacking, we'd eaten through our
tokens.
Shaking my head, I slapped the machine. “That was terrible!”
“It really was,” he chuckled, poking at the coin slot. “Want to play some
more?” His teeth glinted with his tilted grin.
“Yes,” I sighed, sticking out my tongue. “I'll get more tokens, you stay
here and guard our game.”
Brandon saluted me, his face so stoic I was laughing all over again. This
was what I'd been chasing, this feeling of excitement and freedom. There
were no worries with Brandon. The only thing between us was fun, joy, and
love.
I was especially fond of the last part.
Walking on air, my head foggy with childish thrill, I bent beside the
token machine. I wonder if I should grab more this time, or...
“Fiona?”
The voice came from behind me. It was familiar, but it wasn't Brandon.
My skin prickled, body moving in slow motion as I turned to find Mark
standing there. He looked like he was torn between being ashamed, or being
relieved. “Fiona, it is you.”
“Hi, Mark,” I responded numbly. What do I do, what do I say? “Uh,
how are you?” The last time I saw you, you were on the verge of... of...
 Looking away, he stared at nothing I could see. “You didn't come to
class yesterday.”
“No, I didn't.”
Perhaps my short words bothered him. He twisted back, eyeing me with
distrust, something I'd never witnessed in his gaze before. “You were
avoiding me, weren't you?”
Parting my lips, I sought out words. Mostly, I wanted to just slink off
and escape the awkward interrogation. “Mark, listen, I...”
“Fiona, what the hell happened the other night?” It was like he was
imploring me for answers. All I cared about was how he was too close to
me. The token machine blocked me from escape. “I mean, I wanted to
apologize for how crazy I got—I was sort of drunk, and I thought you were
into me, but then—then that guy showed up and... Hey. Fiona, talk to me!”
I was staring at the ground, willing myself to vanish. “Mark, leave me
alone. Please. I don't really want to see you after what you did. Okay?”
“But it was an accident!” He reached out, grabbing my shoulder,
making me flinch. “Fiona, just talk to me already!”
Lifting my head, I saw Brandon as he shoved Mark violently off of me.
“Get away from her!” The fury in those green eyes, it paled in comparison
to the disdain in his shout. Mark went tumbling, hitting the side of a claw-
machine.
Covering my mouth, I stared between them both. I wasn't the only one
watching. Collectively, the arcade had come to a pause. Teenagers stood
around, wide-eyed or whispering nervously.
“Brandon,” I said softly, but he was stalking towards Mark again. The
smaller man saw him coming, hands lifted to ward him off.
“Whoa, hey, calm down! I didn't do anything!”
The cords in his arms flexed, the yellow shirt going taught over his
broad back. Brandon reached out, pushing Mark against the blinking,
ringing machine again. “I told you to stay away from her! How do you have
the guts to even talk to her after what you did?”
Licking his lips, Mark shot a quick look side to side. If the room had
still been buzzing with the laughter and white noise of normalcy, I couldn't
have heard him speak. As it was, even his mumbling reached my ears.
“Look man, relax. Fiona and I, we're friends. Okay? That night, things just
got a little hazy. She was flirting with me, I was drunk, you know how it
goes.”
 My neck turned pink, as did my ears. Glancing around, I saw people
staring at me, realizing I had to be the 'Fiona' in this tale. “Brandon,” I said
again, stepping closer to them. “Come on, let's go.”
He wasn't listening to me. “You're scum, you know that?” Growling, a
sound so awful it made Mark jump, he grabbed the man's shoulders. “I
should drag you outside and show you how it goes.”
People were whispering around us, phones flashing to take photos. This
is getting out of control. “Brandon!” I snapped, touching him on the middle
of his back. That got him to stiffen, his jaw twisting enough so he could
stare back at me. The hot centers of his eyes reminded me of how he'd
gotten last night, when he'd begun losing control. “Let's just go, please?”
Scowling, he went to speak... and was cut off when Mark, perhaps
sensing an opportunity, swung his fist into Brandon's cheek. The sound
cracked like timber, a few girls screamed.
Amazingly, Brandon didn't wince. I wasn't sure he even blinked. With
the patience of a hunter, the man—the werewolf—turned towards Mark.
The slow way he peeled back his lips, flashing teeth that were sharper than
any human's, made my stomach flip. “Oh, so you do want to play.”
Everyone sensed the danger, the rising vibe in the arcade.
I was close enough that it made my hair stand on end.
Brandon ripped Mark away from the machine, throwing him several
feet into the crowd. People scattered, the chaos breaking out all around.
Before my eyes, the man I loved was turning into something I'd, until last
night, thought was myth.
His muscles bulged, features twisted. I saw what was going on, knew he
was transforming. I wondered what Mark thought, scrambling away on his
hands and knees. I need to stop this! Desperate to prevent Brandon from
doing something unforgivable, I launched myself at him. “Brandon, stop
this! Please, stop right now! This is too much!”
I clung to his arm, he easily lifted me in front of him. My toes left the
ground, his nose inches from mine. In that moment, I feared for my life. It
reminded me of that day, of watching the water bore down on me.
Brandon—no, was he Brandon?—bared his teeth at me. He still looked
relatively human, but his eyes didn't see me. “Brandon!” I begged, his
breath hot on my skin. Is he going to kill me? “Brandon,” I said in a panic,
thinking if I stopped speaking, I'd never begin again. “It's me, it's Fiona!
Please, Brandon, I love you! Remember?”
 I love you I love you I love you... so please, don't hurt me. Don't hurt
anyone.
Maybe my plea reached him, or maybe he'd simply come to his senses.
Rage erased from his face, leaving behind the wide-eyed, baffled visage of
the man I knew. Setting me down gently, he glanced around like he'd woken
from a dream.
A nightmare.
“Fiona,” he whispered, both of us recognizing the unease in the
expressions of the remaining people, “what did I...?”
He let go of me, but I grabbed at his shirt. I felt him fading from me, his
horror at his actions coming to life. “Brandon, calm down. Everything is
fine, no one is hurt.” Mark, who'd retreated to a corner of the Arcade, wasn't
close enough to argue. “Just take a breath, Brandon.”
Pulling away from me, he shook his head sluggishly. “No. No, I did it. I
lost control, like I was—like I was scared I would.” Covering his eyes with
a wide palm, I saw only his mouth. It worked itself into a grimace. “Why
did I do that? Why did I think this would all be okay? I should never have
come back. I belong... I belong back in the forest, like an animal.”
“It is okay! Brandon, listen to me!” Again, I touched my fingers to his
arm. That time, he yanked away like I was made of fire.
His reaction stunned me, but not as much as how he spun away and
began to flee. In seconds, I watched the man I loved running from the
Arcade.
Running from me.
“Brandon! No! Come back!” My scream was plaintive, he still didn't
turn. I knew he had to have heard me. He'd told me how good his ears were.
Ignoring the confused whirlwind of people, ignoring the distant sounds of
sirens from someone calling the police, I sprinted out the door.
I needed to catch up with Brandon. More than anything, I needed him to
know everything was alright.
Is it, though? Is it really alright? He attacked Mark, in front of
everyone... his temper, when he lets it get out of hand he just becomes
someone—something—else entirely.
The idea that Brandon might never get control of himself, might
actually be dangerous, crossed my mind. It filled me with dread, so I buried
it down into a corner of my mind. No, I love him, I know he's a good
person.
 This was just an accident.
I could only pray it would be the last.
The search went on for hours, proving futile. Wandering around
downtown in a funk, asking if people had seen a man run by in a yellow
shirt was getting me nothing. It was after two by the time I finally found
myself at the front door of my apartment.
Angel danced at my feet, getting more demanding when I ignored her. I
couldn't give her any thought, though. Not right then. What do I do? How
do I even begin to try and find Brandon?
Spotting the empty box of donuts sent nails of sorrow into my guts.
Everything felt so... unfair. I'd had him. Had him and all the wonderful
things that came with him.
Staring at the couch, recalling our night together, it made my eyes water.
Will he come back? He has to. He has to come back. Imagery of Brandon
running away, living alone in some dark, wet forest, entered my mind
unbidden.
I need to call the police, report him missing. Is that smart, or asking for
more trouble? I couldn't be sure the cops would take me seriously. Brandon
had only been gone a few hours, there was still a chance he'd show back up
at my door.
Wasn't there?
Reaching down into my purse, I dug around for my phone. I wasn't
positive if I was going to call the authorities, my grandpa, or no one. My
plan was fuzzy. In a whirl of confusion, I upended the contents of my purse,
not finding my phone among the pieces.
And then I realized why that was. Brandon has my phone.
It was defeat that rolled through my body. My eyes wandered listlessly,
spotting my laptop. For a while, I just stared. Why am I looking at that? It
was as if something was trying to bubble out of the darkness of my
intuition. I need to keep looking for him, but I don't even have a phone
anymore. Where do I go from here?
It hit me.
Angel mewled plaintively, trying to get in my lap when I bent down in
front of my computer. Shoving her aside as gently as I could, I tapped on
my keyboard. My excitement was rising rapidly, I was hasty and making
mistakes. Still, I opened up the program I'd installed at Mark's behest a few
weeks back.
 He'd had been amazed I hadn't had insurance on my phone. Then he'd
shown me an application that would let me remotely track the new one I'd
had to buy.
Mark, I could almost thank you.
Staring at the screen, I saw the tiny circle moving on the map. It was
Brandon, with my phone. As long as he had it, I could track him with GPS.
Snatching up the computer, praying the battery lasted long enough, I ran
out my front door. The cool air felt good on my hot face. Fumbling with my
keys, I jammed them into the car. Setting the laptop on the passenger seat
where I could see it, the tires squealed as I backed out of my driveway.
Speeding was an awful idea, but all I cared about was reaching
Brandon.
He's in the desert, moving fast. I need to hurry before it's impossible to
find him.

****

The road was swimming before my eyes.

Night had fallen fast, as it was won't to do when you've been driving for
hours. My body ached, my head pulsing with pain. I need to keep going.
Brandon isn't far ahead now, if the GPS is working right.
My tires crushed dirt, rumbling into the silent curve of the empty road.
I'd seen no cars, it was likely I'd be ignored if I left the vehicle where it was.
The map on my dying laptop showed the blinking dot that was my phone,
indicating it was only a half mile away from where I'd parked. It hadn't
moved for a few minutes.
The screen went black, cementing my decision. I need to go out there.
'There' was, unfortunately, the middle of the rising dunes. Grabbing a
flashlight from the compartment by the front seat, I scrambled out into the
quiet night.
If I hadn't been so hopeful in my search for Brandon, I suspected I'd
have felt more scared. Wandering into the empty stretch of sand, alone, was
just rife for trouble.
One foot in front of the other, I soldiered on.
 I hadn't been walking for long before the road vanished behind me. The
rising of rocks, hills, sparse trees and brush made everything harder to see.
My goal was to not change course. I had no way to find Brandon if he
moved, I could only pray he'd stay where I'd last seen him.
Flicking the light across the ground to keep myself from breaking an
ankle, I inched carefully around a large array of rocks. The air was chilly,
my thin jacket hardly enough. Hugging myself, I wondered if Brandon felt
the cool weather the same way as I did.
Like summoned from my thoughts, curious things that wondered about
my lover and his abilities as a so-called werewolf, a low snarl slid through
the wind to my ears. Instantly I froze, one hand touching the rock beside
me.
What was that? Was it Brandon?
My chest tensed, muscles fighting me as I inched around the slope. Part
of me needed to know what had made that sound. The rest of me was
begging to turn and flee. Calm down, it has to be Brandon. You've heard
him make weird sounds before.
But I was wrong. Partially, anyway.
There in the distance, I spotted the source of the noise. Two figures
were facing one another, both of them wearing twisted faces of rage.
Brandon was one of them, still dressed in the yellow shirt I'd bought him
that morning.
The other person, I'd never seen him before. When he snarled again in
that guttural way, I knew what he had to be. He had a similar aura to
Brandon, a powerful heat that made my skin ripple. Brandon's eyes, hot
green jewels, were fixed on the man's cold blue ones.
If I'd had any doubt, it vanished when Brandon began speaking. “Why
the hell did you follow me, Hector?”
Chuckling, a gritty sound like rusty pins, Hector flexed his hands. “You
know why.”
“I'm not going back! I'm done living like you do, like an animal!”
Narrowing his eyes, Hector cracked his neck. “Oh? You think you'll fit
right back in to your pretty little human life?”
The flicker of doubt in Brandon's face made me grip the rock beside me.
“Yes,” he said, sounding less than sure. “I'm not—I don't need to defend my
choices to you! You don't control me anymore.”
 Hector bent low, as if he was going to jump. “I can't force you by sheer
willpower any longer, that's true. And you clearly won't listen to reason.
That doesn't mean I'm opposed to dragging you back home myself.”
The tension was electric, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth.
Brandon felt it too, I could see it in his stance. But where it made me want
to turn, to run away screaming and never once look back...
For Brandon, it made him grin. “You actually want to fight me?”
“I didn't say fight,” Hector whispered. “I said I would drag you home.”
“That's not my home!” With a rumbling noise from within his barrel of
a chest, the man I loved began to transform. “Not anymore. Not ever
again.”
Hector was larger than Brandon—much larger, in fact—to the point it
took me a second to understand he was growing before my eyes. The dark
hair on his head spread, melting along his skin and growing upwards like
grass where it touched. He wore a thin, torn up shirt that tugged on the
verge of bursting across his shoulders.
When it ripped, the sound rattled through the air. I caught a glimpse of
pale flesh, before that, too, became overgrown with matted fur. Yes, I
realized, it's fur. They're actually turning into wolves.
I struggled to comprehend the sight of it all. I'd believed Brandon when
he'd told me he was a werewolf. He'd been so earnest, and it made a strange
sense when combined with his abilities.
But seeing it happen... that was a whole other story.
My arms hurt, I looked down to see I'd been carving half-moons with
my nails into my skin. Sweat beaded, dripping from my throat. Knowing
Brandon was something inhuman hadn't prepared me at all for seeing the
truth of it.
Brandon's hands clenched, sharp claws gliding from the tips. He'd been
muscular before, now he looked like a being of pure strength. The yellow
shirt was about to rip, as Hector's had. Astoundingly, Brandon pulled it over
his head quick enough to save it. I watched it fall to the sand, leaving his
chest exposed to the air. His jeans followed, shoved down in one motion.
The fur that sprouted over him was shiny as satin, exquisite looking
from where I stood. The color of silver, I thought it would feel creamy to
the touch. Unlike Hector, who's black body was greasy in the star light,
Brandon was...
Beautiful. God, he's still so lovely looking, even like this.
 His face elongated, grin merging into a long row of razor fangs. He fell
forward, hands—paws?—gripping the sand and making furrows. Another
growl echoed, his green eyes glowing with a hunger for... for something I
couldn't understand. Was it violence? Did Brandon want to fight Hector?
When they were finished, the two were crouched in the blue shadows
facing one another. They looked, indeed, like giant wolves. The only
difference I could notice were the human-shaped fingers with wicked talon
tips. I thought they might be close to the size of my car, their tails slashing
the air while their neck ruffs bristled.
“You're wasting your energy,” Hector said. His voice was akin to metal
and gravel rolling around in a garbage disposal; it made me cringe.
Watching a wolf speak unnerved me, his lips curling back along yellow
fangs.
Brandon said nothing. The muscles in his back legs bunched, sand
exploding around him. He launched himself forward in one fluid jump,
slamming into Hector with a snarl. In seconds, they were on each other.
Teeth glinted white as exposed bone, eyes glimmering with hate.
Or was it excitement?
The werewolves were a storm of fur, ebony tangling with cool silver.
Seeing them on edge was nothing compared to them actively trying to
murder each other.
The air was heavy, it forced me to grip the rock to stay on my feet. What
should I do? I need to help somehow! It was a naïve thought. How could I
ever step in? One of their paws could take my head off, it was a suicidal
idea to get involved.
Hector rolled Brandon under him, snout crushing down on the fur of my
lover's throat. The ground kicked up clouds of dust, especially when
Brandon clawed wildly to escape. His ears flattened, body flexing to throw
Hector off. The dark wolf was more experienced, I could see that in how he
fought.
Brandon, however, was full of vigor.
Wrenching his legs, he tumbled Hector beneath him. Chunks of fur
flew, Brandon scuttling off of the bigger creature. Hector moved to rise, yet
in that second, Brandon was on him again. I saw the teeth, wicked things
ready to bring blood. They clamped for Hector's neck, but missed at the last
moment.
 The dark werewolf didn't escape unscathed. His yelp was brief, crimson
droplets spraying across the sand. He jumped away several feet, a strip of
skin bared a mere inch below one scathing blue eye.
It was the first time I'd heard a wolf laugh. “Why are you fighting so
hard? I'll never understand your desire to go back to this world.”
Stalking sideways, Brandon moved in a slow circle. Hector emulated
him, their eyes never leaving each other. “I don't understand you, Hector. I
never have. You can hide yourself as a human, just as easily as I can. Why
hide in the forests, why live like that?”
“Hide easily as a human?” Snorting, he lifted an arm to wipe at the
blood staining his fur. It had soaked down to his jaw. “Is it so easy for you
already? No troubles, no uncontrollable urges?”
I watched as Brandon faltered, freezing on all fours. Hector stood across
from him, still as stone. “It's not—no, it hasn't been exactly easy.”
“You ran out into this desert, Brandon. What were you running from
this time. Not me, surely.” Lowering his snout, Hector flicked his ears
forward. “You already did that. So who?”
Brandon was quiet, his furry features wrinkling with sorrow.
Chuckling, Hector turned his head. I didn't expect him to look in my
direction. When his icy eyes fell on me, spotted me peeking around the
rock, I stopped breathing. “Was it her, is she who you're running from?”
He knew I was here!
Flicking his tail, Brandon twisted so he could stare back at me. “Fiona,”
he whispered.
“Fiona.” When Hector said it, it gave me chills. “So you're the one
who's broken up my pack this go around. It's always humans, every time.
Come out here, little one.”
This time? Is he saying humans broke up his pack before? Swallowing
around my swollen tongue, I stepped out into plain sight. I was far enough
away that, if they had been normal humans, I was confident I could have
run. Possibly even escaped. But they were far more than humans, that much
was abundantly clear.
My knees wiggled, yet I managed to walk stiffly towards them. I only
stopped when I was nearest to Brandon, his eyes stuck on me. “Fiona, what
are you doing here?” he whispered.
Glancing at his pile of clothes, I pointed with a trembling hand. It was
hard to think straight with Hector watching me so intensely. “You had my
phone on you. I followed it.”
It was funny to see a wolfish face look so surprised.
Hector moved towards us, his steps slow as sap. “This girl is the reason
you abandoned me, isn't she? Fiona, you said her name was... I recognize
your scent, girl.”
Straightening up, I placed my heel behind me. In a rush of silver,
Brandon moved between us. He was my armor, my guardian, and the low
growl rumbling from him didn't stop.
Yet, neither did Hector. He continued to approach, looking only at me
with his paralyzing gaze. “You were the girl always hanging around
Brandon. He used to explore the forests alone, before you came along.
Imagine my luck, the day that flood came and gave him to me as a gift.”
Gritting my teeth, I balled my hands at my sides. “Brandon wasn't a gift
to you. He was never yours.” He was always mine.
Hector squinted at me, curved ears pulling back onto his skull. “Oh, yes.
You are the reason he left. Brandon, if you wanted to add someone to the
pack... especially someone you deemed so worthy to break away for... why
didn't you say so?”
“It was never your business!” Brandon snapped, hackles raising high.
“I understand fully,” Hector murmured. I felt like he was speaking more
to himself than either of us. “She's your pack mate, your other half. That's
why you struggled so much against me. Yes, I know how much that feeling
can drive a werewolf to do reckless things.” He spoke with melancholy.
It's like he's remembering something. What happened to him?
“I'm a fool.” Shaking his head, amused, he looked back to Brandon.
“Let me give you a second gift. I'll make her a werewolf, then we can all
live together as one family.”
My stomach bubbled, hot with unease. Me, a werewolf?
I went to speak, but Brandon's snarl cut me off. The anger in it chilled
me to the core. “You won't touch her! I won't let you do to her what you did
to me, it's no gift!”
“Oh, but it is.” Tilting his head, Hector looked on Brandon with
sympathy. “You still don't understand. You're so much more than human,
yet you cling to it. You cling to her. I'm saying I'll let you have her,
Brandon. Why don't you want that?”
“I already have her,” he answered softly. “I love her as she is. Leave her
be.”
 Hector's silence was unsettling. He lifted his muzzle, as if he could hear
something we could not. It occurred to me, just then, that Hector might not
be entirely stable. Was it possible for him to be mentally ill? “I see,” he
mumbled. “Alright then. If you don't want her to join us, I have another
option.” He looked at me, fangs glinting with his terrible smile. “I'll kill her,
then it will be just you and I, Brandon. Just us again. A happy family.”
Like black lightning, the dark wolf jumped at us. My scream was
immediate, arms raised like they could actually protect me. Brandon
launched himself up, slamming into Hector roughly. Yelping, nipping, the
two tore at each other in the sand.
They were so close to me, bits of gravel hit my legs. I scuttled
backwards, unsure where to even go. It was like being too close to a
tornado, their heightened chaos pulling at me enough to keep me locked in
place.
Again, it looked like Hector had the upper hand. Unlike the first round,
Brandon wasn't able to rip the bigger wolf free. Rich ebony fur turned ruby
as Hector's maw bit down. Strong arms wrapped around, claws rending at
flesh. Brandon's scream made my heart shiver.
Easily, Hector threw him aside. I watched the silver body slide across
the ground, a thick trail of blood left behind. My instinct was to go to him,
but I was hindered by the werewolf. Hector had no inclination to hesitate.
With a grace that was unfitting, he pushed me down to the hard earth.
I caught a flash of the burning blue fire in his face, the scythe like claws
aimed for my belly.
Then, there was only pain.
When had I begun screaming, when would I stop? My throat was raw,
spots of color swimming in my vision. Hector's scent, musty as something
ancient and forgotten, mingled with the coppery smell of blood. My blood,
I'm hurt. How bad is it? Unable to sit up, I couldn't see. Hector looked
down on me, his face full of wretched teeth.
Brandon was a ghost, appearing from nothing and throwing himself
against the other wolf. With the pressure gone from my chest, I inhaled
desperately. The searing agony from my lungs, wind whistling over the
dryness, was nothing compared to the fire in my guts.
Lifting my head, I stared down at myself. I saw my toes, my knees, then
the crimson soaking through everything. His talons had tore open my belly.
Wetness glinted, but the longer I looked, the more detached I felt. The pain
was incredible, leaving me disoriented.
A hoarse shout filled my ears, making me turn to look. Brandon had
Hector under him, his muzzle the color of fresh cherries. I watched as he
bent low, nostrils flaring so near the other werewolf. Each breath made the
dark fur ruffle. “How dare you, you monster!”
“What?” Hector sounded strained, I wondered if he was more wounded
than I could see. “It's nothing, why are you upset? Because she's dying?”
“You're a murderer!” Brandon's mouth stretched wide, ready to tear
open his prey's entire neck.
The spark in Hector's eyes was sly. “Only if you allow it. Go to her, you
can save her. All you have to do is bite her. Give her the gift I gave to you.”
Brandon's jaws drifted closer together, hiding away some of those
monstrous teeth. Both of us were listening, I didn't know who was more
rapt in their attention. He's telling him to make me a werewolf. To save me
the way he did, for Brandon. Looking down, I lowered a hand towards my
giant gash. Blood still pumped, matching the slowing beat of my heart.
“Do it,” Hector goaded him. “She'll heal, she'll live! Then, all of us, we
can be a family. We'll replace my pack, we won't lose anyone this time. Not
to humans, no to anyone.”
His pack... he lost them to humans. That's why he hates us. I
understand, now.
“Brandon, bite her. Save her the way only we can.” Something was
unsettling about his voice, a wavering edge like an instrument out of tune.
The man I loved, he sensed it too. Looking my way, his green eyes
moved through a variety of emotions. I recognized grief, but the last one
threw me for a loop. Was it determination, or something else?
Twisting back towards Hector, his snout crinkled. “There are better
ways.”
The darker wolf's face fell, a look of genuine distress. Brandon's fangs
crunched, slicing through his throat like a spoon through cream. It was
quick, there was no joy or malice in Brandon's attack. A strangled noise
escaped Hector, his body twitching under the silver wolf.
Then it was done, the beast went still.
I watched it all, fascinated and detached from sensation. My skin had
gone clammy. At some point, the pain had faded to a dull throb.
“Fiona,” Brandon said, kneeling beside me.
 He moved fast... or did I just close my eyes for too long? “Hey,” I
whispered, tasting the tang of rust in my mouth. I knew it was blood, I'd
bitten my tongue enough to be familiar with the flavor.
His face was close to mine, fur tickling my cheek as he bent over. His
gasp told me the wound was as bad as I suspected. “Oh, Fiona. I don't—we
need to do something!”
Turn me into a werewolf, I thought with cynical humor. “I did a risky
thing, chasing after you,” I muttered softly. “It was dumb, wasn't it? Now
I've messed everything up.”
“No! No, Fiona.” Emerald eyes focused on me, pulled my attention
back. “Fiona, listen to me. You're fine, you're going... you're going to be
fine.” His voice was gritty, anger seeping into his sadness. I thought he was
convincing himself more than me.
“You can do it, you know,” I said. “Turn me into a werewolf. I don't
mind, if it's... if you do it to me.”
He was already shaking his head. “I can't, I can't do that to you. It's not
the life meant for you. You don't need to have this burden.”
Wincing, I reached out to touch his muzzle. “You're fur is even softer
than I thought it might be.” Something hot rolled down my cheek. Tears,
I'm crying. “Brandon,” I begged suddenly, “I don't want to die. After
everything, I'm not ready.”
“You won't. I promise, you won't.” His face contorted, fur melting away
rapidly. In a minute, he'd shifted back to his human form. Letting me go, he
moved out of my vision.
“Brandon? Brandon. Hey.”
“Shh, I'm here.” His shadow fell over me, his body dressed in his
clothing from earlier. Gingerly, he bent low to scoop me into his arms. The
movement made me cry out, a tortured noise that caused him to grimace.
“It'll be alright, Fiona.”
I felt like ice against his heat. Part of me, in a cloudy daze, worried I
was ruining his new shirt. “Are you going to do it, turn me into a
werewolf?”
Hugging me tightly, he looked over at Hector's broken body.
Amazingly, it had turned back into the blood stained figure of a nude man.
“No. I won't do that. There are better ways to save you than to curse you.”
I wanted to ask him what he meant, I had so many questions. Instead,
my eyelids demanded they be allowed to shut. “Brandon,” I struggled to
speak. “I love you.”
The blackness closed in. I never heard his response.
 Chapter 10.

The light was white, sterile. It hurt my eyes, but I needed to fight
against the exhaustion sapping my strength. I needed to hear Brandon's
answer, needed to know more than ever that he loved me. If it was the last
thing I managed before my death, it would be enough.
Blinking, my eyesight blurry, I saw someone sitting beside me.
“Brandon?” I croaked, sounding funny to my own ears.
“No,” my grandpa whispered soothingly. Paper-rough skin touched
mine, his hand closing on my wrist. Confused by what was going on, I
looked down to see the tubes in my arm. “Take a deep breath, Fiona. Just
relax.”
“Where am I?” This isn't right, I was... I was in the desert, and... I tried
to sit up, grasping at my stomach in fear. I was lying in a bed, my body
covered in a blanket. “How am I alive?”
“It's alright,” he assured me, gently stopping me from lifting the
covering. “Don't look. The stitches are still raw, it was pretty ugly.”
We looked at each other, I suspected he was trying to read me as much
as I was him. “Did you see him?” I asked, positive he knew who I meant.
My grandpa shook his head. “No. The nurse told me a young man
dropped you off, and in the bustle of getting you to emergency care, he
vanished.” Digging into his pocket, he set something gently in my hand.
“He left this at the desk.”
Holding my phone up before me, I tasted salty tears as they rolled down
to my lips. Sniffling, I wiped at my eyes. I knew what had happened. Faster
than a car. He got me here in time.
A better way to save me, than making me a werewolf...
“Are you alright, honey?”
“Yeah,” I said, setting the phone on my stomach. I flinched, the pain
dulled. They must have me on medicine for this, but it still hurts. “He saved
me, Grandpa. Brandon saved me again.”
His fingers closed on my wrist, then slid away. “I know. I didn't see
him, but I know.”
 Closing my eyes, the drugs pressed on me like soft cotton. “You really
believe me?”
“Of course I do.”
“Do you think,” I whispered, my cheek turning on my pillow, “that he'll
come back again? Now that I'm safe?”
My grandpa's voice sounded far away. I imagined I was falling down a
tunnel made of thick silk. “If you need him again, Fiona... then I'm sure
he'll come back to you.”
I fell asleep with a smile.

****

I spent a week in the hospital before they let me go home.

My grandpa wanted to stay longer, but I assured him I was fine. He'd
already spent so much time with me after his frantic drive from South
Dakota. I didn't want to imagine how scared he'd had to have been when he
got the call from the hospital.
Outside of some stitches that would no doubt leave notable scarring, my
body had no damage. Brandon had gotten me there in time, utilizing his
abilities that he proclaimed to be a curse.
I wasn't so sure if he was right.
It wasn't injury, or lack thereof, that made me walk with heavy steps
into my front door.
The last time I'd seen Brandon had been moments before my expected
death. I hadn't heard a word from him. It made my heart hurt, and fed into
my paranoia that after everything... he'd chosen to run away.
Passing my car in the driveway, I paused to look it over. The police had
found it, and in doing so, discovered Hector's body. The story I'd come up
with was that I'd been attacked by a strange animal I couldn't identify. My
flesh had been rendered by claws, the doctors confirmed it to the police.
The marks on Hector's throat coincided with the tale.
Still, they scratched their heads over the whole mess.
I told them I didn't know Hector, had never seen him before. With no
other leads, it was ruled a death by animal attack. I got my car returned, it
had no purpose for evidence.
 There was no crime.
The police waited for someone to claim Hector's body. I knew no one
would.
Pushing through the door, I heard Angel meowing before I saw her.
Grandpa had been a peach, feeding her for me while I was in the hospital.
“Did you miss me?” Kneeling down, I rubbed her cheeks.
Mewling, she smushed her body against my legs; back and forth, her
tail switching like the hands of a clock. Angel sought my fingers happily. It
was pleasant, and for the most part, being home relieved some of the
tension in my body.
You're happy I'm back. I'm happy, too. Lifting my eyes, I gazed at the
couch across the room. My mouth went tight, stuck that way long after I
turned my eyes back to Angel. The very idea that things weren't going to be
the same, after everything, cut at me deep.
Touching my palm to my stomach, I felt the lines of the stitches through
the cloth. Hector told Brandon to bite me. Is that all it would have taken? If
Hector had bit me instead of clawing me... would I have become a
werewolf, like he did to Brandon?
So many questions, no one to answer them.
Sighing, I ran my palm over Angel's back. Beneath my hand, her fur
suddenly rippled in waves. Yowling, she seemed torn between being
defensive or antsy. “Whoa, Angel,” I said nervously. “What's wrong?”
Bouncing away from me, she jumped up onto the window sill of the
kitchen. Something outside had her attention, but only briefly. Leaping
away, the cat darted into my bedroom, vanishing from view.
Standing slowly, I rubbed my neck. What was that about? I've never
seen Angel act like that before. Well, except when...
My eyebrows shot up, vanishing under my bangs. Spinning, I couldn't
get out my front door any faster. Please, let it be real!
With the breeze tickling his hair, Brandon leaned against my car. His
hands were deep in his pockets. The shirt he had on was blue, I had no idea
where he'd gotten it. “Hey,” he said, that knowing smile spreading wide.
I didn't speak. I simply flew at him, putting Angel's speed to shame. My
arms tangled around his neck, lips seeking his without hesitation. How
could I ever hesitate with the man I loved so completely?
His mouth was tender, fingers gripping my hips to hold me against him.
When I finally pulled away, he tried to steal my lips back. I didn't allow
him, I needed confirmation. “You came back,” I breathed, panting for air.
“Of course.” His face smoothed apologetically. “I would have stayed in
the hospital, but there were so many people. So many... things. It was too
hard to be inside. But Fiona,” he said, lifting my hands between us. “I didn't
go anywhere. I swear, I was nearby the whole time.”
Gripping his shoulders, I hugged him so hard it was like I wanted to
merge our bodies together. “I was so scared,” I gushed, squeezing back my
tears. “The things I was thinking, I was afraid you'd left me. You acted like
you wanted to, back at the Arcade.”
Brandon pet the back of my head, warm liquid soaking his shirt from
my sobs. “Shh. Fiona, I know what I said. I was scared, too. And angry... at
myself. But I couldn't leave you. I was just going to run off some steam. I
didn't expect to encounter Hector.”
Sniffling, I melted into his comforting smell. “You were really going to
come back?”
“Fiona,” he said, taking my chin to make me look at him. His thumb
rubbed away my tears, his smile erased my pain. “I was never really gone.”
I heard his words. My body craved to test them.
Digging my fingers into his shirt, I used it for leverage. The car
squeaked as I pushed him into it, kissing his lips and tasting the tang of my
own tears. He rose to meet me, too eager to prove he was there.
When his fingers rolled down my belly, I gasped in pain. “Shit, sorry,”
he said quickly, lifting his arms like they were weapons.
“It's fine,” I said, touching my shirt over the stitches. “I'll have them out
soon.”
Brandon made a face, lowering his fingers till they hovered over the
healed scars. “Fiona, I'm so sorry.”
“No. It wasn't your fault, forget it.” I put on a crooked smile. “It is your
fault if you back off because I made a little bit of a pain-face.”
He looked me over, scratching at his hair. “Really. Is that a challenge?”
Reaching out, I took his hands and placed them on my hips. “I haven't
seen you for weeks.”
Chuckling, he dipped his fingers into my purse. My confusion was
plain, until he lifted my car keys. “Fine,” he said. “Let's give Angel a
break.” The metal jingled in the lock.
Brandon slid into the back seat, pulling me in with him. The heavy
sound of the car door shutting felt poignant.
 Like I was made of glass, he pulled me on top of him on the cushion.
His mouth was inquisitive, checking to see how much was appropriate.
How much I could handle.
I was recovering, but more capable than he thought. Tugging his shirt
up, my gaze fell across his perfect chest. The sight of it made me suddenly
doubtful. How can he be so handsome, it's almost unfair. And now, here I
am with this ugly scarring.
Brandon smiled, unaware of my deprecating thoughts. He moved to pull
my clothing up, yet I stopped him with grappling hands. “What's wrong?”
he asked, eyebrows furrowing.
“I don't—I'm not comfortable with you seeing me like this.”
“Why? Fiona, I love you. It's nothing to be embarrassed about.”
Glancing away, I looked out the front window of the car. “My scars are
awful. And you, you're like a fashion model.”
He made a soothing sound, fingers tracing the line of my ear. It was
enough to coerce me to look down at him. When he saw he had my
attention, he motioned me to sit up. I did so, balancing on the seat so he
could slide his jeans down.
As always, the reveal made my neck turn pink. He wasn't done, though.
He had a plan. Kicking off his shoes, his pants, he took my hand in his.
Gingerly, he placed my palm on the old, mangled bite marks on his left
thigh.
“Look,” he said, his voice soft and serious. “We both have scars, okay?
Does it make you love me less?”
My answer was fast. “Of course not.”
“Then,” he went on, guiding me down till I was spread on top of him,
“how can you think it matters that you have them? If anything, now we
share something else. It's a mark of what we've been through. Together.”
Together.
I kissed him with gusto, I kissed him without fear.
I didn't worry about what he thought of my body. Not ever again.
Our skin was hot inside the cool interior of the car. The windows
became hazy with condensation from our frantic breathing. We shed our
clothes, bathing in the vision of each other without a word.
Who needed words?
Crouching on top of him, I ground my hips until I felt his firmness
pressing under me. The way he groaned when I rolled my weight on him
sent thrills up my spine. It excited my core, the raw warmth spreading to
my toes.
His fingers reached around, removing my bra without ruining it. I was
grateful. Replacing another one would have been a pain. Free of
obstruction, he took my breasts in his hands. Cupping them, we both felt the
tips firming against him.
He's so good, how can he be such a natural?
Sliding me up for a better angle, Brandon dined on my nipples with his
lapping tongue. My moan was soft, muffled by how I bit my lip. Where
before, I'd been grinding on him to elicit a reaction... now, I was rocking my
hips out of my own lust.
Those strong hands moved, sliding back until they squeezed my rear.
That was it, I couldn't handle the wait anymore. Reaching between us, I felt
the hard shape of his member. Recalling the last time, our first time, I
suddenly glanced around.
“What is it?” he asked, popping my breast from his mouth. “What are
you looking for?”
Digging into my purse where I'd dropped it on the floor of the car, I held
up a tiny foil square. “It's, uh, well.” Unwrapping the condom, I lifted an
eyebrow. “We didn't use anything last time, I didn't have any of these. I
wasn't expecting to have sex with anyone, back then. Now I figure we
should be... well, responsible?”
“Is that a question?” he teased, eyes warm.
Clicking my tongue, I leaned away from him. “I've never done this,
sorry.” Fumbling, I slid the latex over him without any grace. Brandon
didn't care, he hissed through his teeth at the touch. The moment I was
done, he pulled me back up by my arms.
Willingly I followed, kissing him as he entered me. Into his lips, I
whimpered softly. I'd missed Brandon terribly, every part of him. All of
him.
Right then, I wanted everything I could get.
He was right to suggest we give Angel some peace. The sounds we
were making, I wondered if my neighbors might hear us. I don't care if they
do, if anyone does. I don't care at all.
Breathing heavy, my chest pulsed against his. Our hearts made a song,
one that got faster, louder, by the second. I knew he was close when he
growled, the noise not scaring me... it only drove my ecstasy higher.
 The beast that was in Brandon didn't want to hurt me. It did want me,
though. And that set my nerves on fire. The way he rocked into me,
desperate to reach a crescendo with him at the helm. The way he bit at my
ear, nibbled my throat.
All of it sent me over the edge, my scream obscene with passion.
Brandon chased me there, holding me close and managing not to irritate
my stitches. Hugging me, he breathed into my temple. The air tickled my
hair, made me smile sleepily.
“Are you alright?” he murmured.
“Mmhm,” I responded lazily.
There was nothing that could make my world more complete.
I had gotten Brandon back.
 Epilogue

The grass was overgrown, creating handholds as I inched down the

slope. A briar caught on my jeans, I just ignored it. It had been so long since
I'd been to this place, I recalled it being easier to climb through the bushes.
“Come on,” Brandon chided me from the bottom. “Hurry up!”
Holding the roots of a clump of weeds, I scooted down some feet. “I'm
going as fast as I can.”
“Just let go,” he chuckled. “I'll catch you.” The cocky way he grinned
up at me, I didn't doubt he would. With my pride still intact, I stumbled the
rest of the way down the slick greenery. He reached out, steadying me so I
didn't twist an ankle. “Nice job!”
Giving him a light shove, I stuck out my tongue. “Uh huh, thanks.”
Stepping forward, I intended to slide around him. Brandon was quick,
tugging me back by my wrist. I lost my balance, only recovering it as he
planted a kiss on the corner of my mouth.
Reaching up, I touched the spot gingerly. I knew my face was red, his
grin said it all. “Let's go,” he said, long legs taking him over a rock. “It's
this way.”
Branches grabbed at us as we passed. I couldn't tell if they wanted us
out, or if they craved to pull us in further. Shielding my eyes, I walked
behind Brandon on a path that became more familiar by the moment.
Like bells, the brook sang to us when we broke out into the clearing.
Unlike us, it had changed very little over the years. It was bigger, a little
slower where it lapped at the bottoms of the rocks.
Changed or not, it was still our place.
He kicked off his shoes, letting them fall forgotten onto the
embankment. I copied him, rolling my pants up to my knee. Brandon
clambered up onto the biggest of the boulders, reaching back to offer me a
hand. Grateful for it, I let him help me up beside him.
Our bodies pressed together, so unlike when we were kids. Back then,
we'd been nervous to let any part of us touch the other. Looking down, I
remembered how shyly our hands had brushed. Now, I linked my fingers
with his possessively.
Around us, the small stream burbled. “This is still so pretty,” I said.
“Yeah.” Lifting his head, he stared at the leaves above. They turned
everything so green. “Have you ever been back here? Before now, I mean.”
“No. Honestly, I was always scared of coming back. I thought it would
be too painful.”
Brandon gave my hand a squeeze. “It's not painful now, is it?”
Leaning my cheek onto his shoulder, I took a long breath. “Nostalgic,
actually.”
His fingers brushed through my hair, guiding my chin up until he could
kiss me. It was firm, confident that I would not retreat. It was very unlike
our first time. The memory made me smile. He felt it, found it was
contagious.
Our smiles quickly became giant grins, laughter echoing through the
forest. There, that feels like when we were nervous teenagers. “What now?”
I asked, tucking my hair behind my ear.
Standing smoothly, Brandon hopped down into the stream. Reaching for
me, he took me by the middle like I was light as air. My stitches had come
out a month ago, they no longer hurt. Gently, he stood me beside him, the
water cold on my skin. “You mean in general?”
I hadn't, but when he asked my mind jumped to that itching question.
“Yeah. What happens now, what will you do?”
“What will we do. We're in this together, Fiona.” His words set my heart
dancing. Taking my hand, he began guiding me down the gentle river. It
tugged at my ankles, never strong enough to knock me down. “When we
stopped at your Grandpa's the other night, he talked to me.”
What, they talked? We'd made it a point to visit Grandpa on our way out
to South Dakota. Part of me just needed him to see that Brandon was real,
In person. That he wasn't some mythical guardian in my head.
Grandpa hadn't been surprised. He'd just hugged Brandon, thanking him
for keeping me safe.
“When did you guys talk?” I asked, stepping over a branch in the river.
The water was getting higher, the current weaker.
Brandon smiled down at me, eyebrows pressing tight. “After you fell
asleep. He knew I wanted to discuss some things with him, I think. He was
waiting for me on his porch.”
 Where is this going? Curious, I kept quiet to encourage him.
“Anyway,” he sighed, “he asked me what my plans were. I told him I
had two years to catch up on with you. That I wanted to get a job, so I could
go to college. Hell, that I needed to go pass a GED before I could do any of
that.” Laughing sheepishly, he stared off over the water.
I hadn't thought about that. Frowning, I coiled my fingers tighter in his.
“You'll be fine.”
“I know,” he said, flashing me a smirk. “But that's not the point of this.
Your grandpa, he offered me something.”
“What?”
Brandon stopped moving, the water sloshing over our thighs. I hadn't
realized how deep it had gotten. Turning, he held my shoulders. “He said I
could stay with you, Fiona. That he knew I'd lost my family, but that if—if I
wanted, he was happy to become... you know...” Trailing off, he shut his
eyes.
Grandpa said he'd be his family. I couldn't stand it. Moving forward, I
wrapped my arms around him in a fierce hug. Brandon is going to come live
with me. He felt good in my arms, like he just belonged there. I'll never lose
him, not again. His chin rested on my head, the two of us standing in that
river for some time.
Finally, I leaned back enough to see him looking at me. “I love you,” I
whispered. “And we'll make this work. Brandon, we can actually go to
college together, I'm only a little ahead o f you. It's what I always dreamed
when we were kids. Graduating together.”
His smile was sweet, blossoming sweeter when he kissed my forehead.
“Me too. We're both getting our lives back, changing a lot. Even you.”
Blinking, I studied his face for an explanation. “What, me? How do you
mean?”
The slyness I'd always found intoxicating returned to his features.
Stepping back, he reached his hand down into the river. I didn't respond fast
enough, the splash getting me in the face. Squealing, I lifted my arms.
“Hey! Stop that!”
Laughing gently, he turned in a circle. “Fiona, look at yourself. Look at
what you're doing. Don't you remember what you confided to me over a
month ago?”
Staring at him in slow comprehension, I looked down at the river I was
standing in. “I told you I was scared of water.” Oh my gosh I'm waist deep
in this. “That the flood had... had made me terrified.”
“Well,” he said softly, moving closer to me. “Are you scared now?”
Speechless, I gazed at my reflection in the rippling liquid. No, I realized
with shock, I'm not scared at all. Did being around Brandon fix this, heal
my fears? He was smiling at me so much his eyes were crinkling at the
corners.
Dipping my hands in the river, I sent a huge wave of water at his face.
Brandon shouted, wiping his dripping chin and gawking at me. My lips
coiled up at the ends. “No,” I admitted, “I guess I'm not scared anymore.”
His laughter merged with mine, the two of us chasing each other in that
river, trying to soak the other without a hint of malice.
For a moment, it was like we were in a bubble of timelessness. A place
that had existed in both our hearts while we lived separate lives. Lives that
had been half-complete, waiting for us to meet up again. To become whole.
What we felt was no longer the naïve love of teenagers.
It was something far better.

-THE END-
 ..ABOUT THE AUTHOR..

Cynthia Brint is a new, up and coming Paranormal Romance writer. She

loves creating stories with complex worlds and fleshed out characters, all in
the hope of evoking emotion in her readers.
She pulls no punches, and never plans to.

For more about Cynthia, or to catch news about her next novel, check
out her mailing list!

New Release Mailing List! Click Here!

Thank you for reading!

~Cynthia Brint