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I went home with a werewolf. It was part of the deal.
I needed to be able to sleep without getting caught unaware.
He had such a place.
I made him promise he wouldn't eat my face off. I only half believed him.
I didn't recognize him the next day, bare chested and bathed in sunshine. If it weren't for the color of his eyes, the exact same ice blue of the wolf's, I wouldn't have believed it. His name, he told me over breakfast, was Brandon.
I looked at him, really looked, and realized something. This man had been hunting me. He'd known about me, about the life I'd scraped together out of nothing. Worse, he admired me for it. He saw me, the me that I let no one dare to look at under my clothing and couture sneer.
He saw the twenty year old virgin who kept everyone at bay. He knew that little girl with the black ringlets was still somewhere in there.I panicked, much more than I did when I realized he was an actual wolf. I got up and fled, telling him I'd kill him if he came looking for me.
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