That shriek. That damned shriek!

Our mouths parted in unison. I opened my eyes which I don't remember closing in the first place. Chris still has his squeezed shut. He rubbed his temple, his face the very definition of annoyed. I averted my eyes.

A voice from outside said sternly - "Stop kissing the vampire, Chris. Elio's orders."

The sternness was not effective at all as the owner of the voice giggled immediately. Another giggle followed the first one, but this one was that little shit Elio's.

"Sage!" Chris snapped.

Fuck! He can be scary when he wants to. It doesn't mean he scares me.

The sound of shuffling can be heard from just outside the door and then there was the sound of footsteps running away fast from us.

Before we could breathe a sigh of relief, Sage was squealing and screaming - "THEY ARE KISSING! THEY ARE KISSING!" All this screaming was followed by loud kissy noises and even louder laughter.

An uproar started in the house. One growl from Chris and everything went dead. His growl felt more out of frustration at being stymied rather than hostility.

Without a word, Chris left me plastered at his door and went to sit on his mocha-colored satin-adorned bed.

"If I tell you to come to my bed, then you'll call me a pervert. So please don't make me say it."

I was taken aback by his civilized behavior but sat a few spaces away from him nonetheless.

"So, what's your story?"

His question left me confused. "What story?" I questioned back, my eyebrows scrunched together.

"Patricia, the beta of Blackwater pack. She pissed in your cheerios or something?"

I shrugged my shoulders noncommittally. My mind screamed a different story from what my body recited. Lying to Chris was easy. Lying to someone else is always easy, but lying to yourself is a myth.

I didn't love her, but I cared so her deception stung. She was the first person I cared for apart from my family and best friends. "She is my ex."

Chris looked speechless for the first time since we met. He looked silly with his eyebrows almost touching his hairline, and his eyes blown wide. "You shagging a werewolf? Dayum."

"I didn't know she was a werewolf. The bitch betrayed me and impersonated a human."

"So that's where your deep-seated dislike for werewolves came from?"

My eyes flashed red for a moment at his question, but I replied normally. "Hatred, not dislike."

Chris merely rolled his eyes like he didn't believe me at all. Well, he has a reason not to but still.

Slumping back on the bed, he adopted quietude. Meanwhile, I explored his room. Firstly, I went to the window because it seemed to promise a striking view of the outside. Near the window was a desk that was littered with stacks of unbound papers, a colorful collection of pens, a few diaries, and other stationery items. On the wall the desk rested against was a pinboard which has photographs of... I'd say, everyone. There were many different faces, so I guess either he has a big family or photographs with almost every pack member. A few notes were pinned beside the photographs. One caught my eye. It read :

The first time I saw you,
I prayed that you not be an illusion,
I thought that you were an artist's most beautiful illustration,
Carved on paper, decorated with glitters and stars,
Is this how love at first sight feels,
Like you finally found life on Mars?

"Wow! What do we have here?"

Chris sat up at my voice. The paper in my hand grabbed his immediate attention. Eyeing the paper in my hand, he surged up abruptly. Striding forth with quick steps, he snatched the paper from my hands and pinned it back on the pinboard.

"It's a poem," he mumbled.

"Clearly. But who wrote it? A lover, since you look all possessive of it?"

"No, I did."

Now, it was my turn to look stunned.

The use of words in the poem was impressive. If they were to be sent by one lover to another, I am sure they would caress the heart of the receiver every time they read it.

"Wow! I thought you were always horny and incapable of anything except perverse."

He pushed me playfully and told me to join him for lunch. "You must be hungry, let's have some lunch."

All this – the air of playfulness around us and going to lunch together like it was our daily routine – felt so domestic to me. In fact, it seems too domestic for my liking. I speculated about declining his offer, but I was starving.

"We'll go get Elio first, he is in the backyard," Chris declared.

I was about to ask him how he knew, but then I remembered the mind link.

Exiting the back door, we strolled to what I guess was their practice ground.

"ELIO,” Chris shouted, calling the boy over.

We saw him sprinting towards us, but what we didn't see was the rusty-colored wolf coming at me at full speed.