1. Ache

-Aline-

Under the cover of the trees that mark the perimeter of Golden Gate Park's Polo Fields, I watch the pack converge over Talu’s broken body. I’m too far away and I can't make out her face, but I know among them is Mei, the girl who has a thing for that vampire who says he’s not out to suck people’s blood. I grimace with disgust, knowing Talu believes she’s his soulmate. I despise the word soulmate and hope I never find mine.

The sound of Mei’s weeping carries on the night wind, touching my sensitive ear. It is the sound of ultimate heartbreak and I wonder at that. My own shattered heart unwittingly reaches out to the girl as she climbs into the truck to hold an unconscious Talu. I wonder absently why Mei isn’t following our mortal enemies to their hideaway near the cliffs overlooking the ocean, leaving us to lick our wounds.

God, Talu must be in terrible shape if Mei isn’t following her vampire lover home. She should be with him and his merry band of bloodsuckers gloating about having led that Hunter to us and helping her do serious damage to our pack. I hope Talu isn’t dying. I despair at being the cause of Talu's wounds. I am a disgrace, a coward, hiding within the tight grove of trees. Their enormous trunks serve as a safe haven from where I watch my pack gather around our fallen.

That should have been me instead of him laying ripped apart on the ground. I find myself surprised by this unbidden regret, buried deep in my psyche, unexpectedly unearthed at the sight of my pack mate suffering the consequences of my reckless thoughts.

Am I so wrecked over my ex-boyfriend, Lance, and my best friend, Kylie, being together and abandoning me? Is this what I’ve become? Pathetic! Maybe I am, as the pack claims, too stupid to exist.

The cool breeze whips my waist-length black hair around my face. Tendrils slap at my cheeks as if trying to snap me out of my funk. I’m sick of feeling this way, sick of hating everyone and everything, including the words soulmate and imprint. I’m sick of myself, just plain sick and tired.

They sure weren’t kidding about heartbreak. My heart, the damn thing, feels torn and tattered in my chest, threatening to leave a gaping hole if I dare to allow myself to care about anything, or anyone, too much. I close my eyes, trying to shut out the pain and misery of what’s become of my life. My insides hurt and I don’t know the reason why anymore. I quake and shiver, not from the cold, but from deep grief for what was and what I know never will be.

I wish my body was normal, that everything was back to normal, that someone, anyone, would pull me into a comforting embrace. Lance, gone. My dad, gone. These two simple truths play on repeat in my head and I’m gasping, choking, needing to breathe, but almost forgetting how. I have to stop my train of thought before I’m trapped again in a vortex of panic and depression that will surely consume me.

My overly sensitive were-girl ears pick up a soft sound to my right. My eyes fly open and I take a step backward, deeper into the darkness. I curl my hands into fists and place them defensively in front of my face, ready to take on the intruder. I gulp in a lungful of air. The chill of it cools my insides. I know from the scent that whoever it is; he is male, a wolf, not a vampire, or human. The tension in my stance eases as I become keenly aware of being far far away from my hidey-hole full of clothes. Feigning a comfort with my nudity that I do not feel, I dare to look into the blackness beside me, finding myself staring into warm, brown eyes, full of concern. Only then do I use my arms to cover my bare body. He is in the underbrush, too. If seen together, we’d look like Adam and Eve of the creation myth at the moment they discover their nakedness.

Wide-eyed. Ashamed.

“Go away,” I say with all the quiet strength I can muster.

“Aline.” Jian, my packmate, ignores my demand.

“I said, get the hell away from me!”

I am proud to have managed a snarl with my shout. Turning my back to him, I grip my bare shoulders, crossing my arms even more tightly around myself, irrationally wishing he, or anyone - it didn’t really matter who - had the courage to step over this prickly but flimsy barrier I’ve erected around myself. I desperately need and want someone to hold me and make this unbearable ache go away.

I hear him sigh. I can’t tell if he’s tired or annoyed. Maybe he’s both.

“Get dressed, Aline, I’m taking you home.”

His tone leaves me no room for argument. I feel a slight movement of air against my skin. Soft jersey grazes my arm as I listen for the retreat of this boy, disguised in the body of a man. When I sense he’s no longer near, I unwind my arms, reach down to curl my fingers into soft cotton material, and hastily pull the too-large t-shirt over my head. I look down. It covers me entirely, the hem hits mid-thigh. Thankfully, there’s nothing questionable emblazoned on it, just a message that reads, goGreen. I roll my eyes. Sheesh, that is so Jian.

Barefoot and going commando under the borrowed goGreen shirt, I leave my temporary shelter to claim my stash of clothes while keeping an eye out for him. When my searching eyes find him, I realize with a little shock that despite feeling alone and being the most hated member of the pack, for the second time tonight one of the guys thought enough to be on the lookout for me.

I reach the spot where we earlier parked the motorcycles. All are gone except for one. Snorting my disbelief, I see that even my baby brother ditched me. I hear the loud, smooth purring of the lone engine and race over to where I’d hidden my clothes before I’d phased into my wolf form. With a soft sigh of pleasure, I slide into my favorite pair of worn jeans. It takes all of a second for me to decide to leave my shirt and underthings in their hidey-hole where they would be waiting for me the next time I found myself in this part of San Francisco’s urban forest.

Jian guns the motor, making me jump. It is his way of bellowing at me to hurry the hell up. I rush over and hop onto the back of the bike. Astride the motorcycle, he turns to face me. He’s carrying an extra helmet that he none-too gently shoves onto my head, then with an open hand, smacks it for good measure. The sound of the thunk seems to satisfy him and he turns to grab hold of the handles. Automatically, I wrap my arms around his solid, bare waist, exposed beneath the hem of his leather jacket. Under my palms, I feel his abs ripple at my touch. He runs hot, just like me. I fist my hand and take hold of my wrist with the other, shaking off the intimacy of the skin-to-skin contact. Touching him, gripping him, is a safety measure, a necessity. I don’t want to go flying off the bike, after all. I let my thoughts about my secret attraction for Jian slip away, allowing myself to revel in the whipping wind against my inflamed skin. Riding with him, flying down the quiet streets, empty thanks to the global pandemic, is almost as freeing as running as a wolf.