01 Is he?

Becca

We can’t be the last ones. I repeat in my head as the stomping of my boots echoes through the long corridor. I run with excited steps alongside band posters on the walls with an occasional ramification or door.

This stadium is like most others, so it’s easy to find my way around, even though this is my first time here with my sound crew and a band I met two months ago.

I’m in a city I’ve never been to before, and I run towards someone I don’t know, who claims to have found my lost cardigan at a Diner. The few hundred meters from the mixing console where I work to the back door are decreasing at a steady pace.

I know I didn’t leave any cardigan anywhere because I don’t own any. I only wear hoodies or leather jackets.

The person who claims to have my cardigan knows it’s a lie. I know it’s a lie, but still, I’m running to meet him.

Why?

Because I haven’t met another werewolf since I was 13, and I certainly hope he is one.

My bracelets jingle together as I quicken my steps, hoping he came because he scented me at the Diner I visited and followed the trail I left by sharing my details with a server.

This is how I have lived my life lately- traveling through the country with a band so I can search for other werewolves.

In every town or city we visit, I make sure to spend hours at a diner that mostly locals use, leaving my scent behind by sitting in a booth. I always chat with the servers, telling them I’m the sound engineer of the band playing that night.

I know it’s a bit risky, but hunters can’t scent me out, so I figured exposing myself this way wouldn’t raise any suspicion. Also, I firmly believe that they stopped hunting us, assuming there are no survivors.

I have to believe that. Otherwise, I'd live in fear every day.

My heart stumps with anticipation that I’m about to meet another werewolf. This is what I’ve been waiting for, and not only waiting but actively working towards it.

“He is freaking hot,” one of my technicians, Nicky, told me a minute ago. “He is waiting by the back door.”

I quickly finished Jackie, the first backup singer’s soundcheck, and put my technicians in charge to do the second one while I ran out.

As a sound engineer, my whole day today is about making sure every loudspeaker is placed perfectly and aligned with each other for the most enjoyment for the audience. Every cord and mic plucked in to work fine, and every person in the band is satisfied with how they hear themselves and each other.

I’ll check later if the balance is on spot, and with the lead singer being late as usual, I have a few minutes to check out this guy, who claims to have my non-existent cardigan.

The sun blinds my vision as I push the door open, and I squint, turning my head to the left, then to the right, only to turn left again, and the purple end of my hair flies around, disturbing the view of the parking lot in front of me. Still, through my hair, I can see a guy leaning against his pickup truck about a hundred meters away.

As no one else is here, I start towards him, slowing my steps and my breathing in case he is not who I think he is. What if I’ve been getting my hopes up for nothing?

‘I have a good feeling about this,’ my wolf, Bliss, chimes in, and I can’t disagree.

His tall build and broad shoulders are absolutely a werewolf attribute, but not enough to determine his being. Paint patches cover his clothes, and his truck is packed with equipment, including a ladder, buckets, and a telescope, all indicating that he’s likely working as a painter.

I have only a handful of memories of other adult werewolves. My opinion is mainly based on my family. My father and brothers are all around 6 feet 2 with strong built and high working capacity.

As our eyes lock, we simultaneously raise our noses a tiny bit, scenting the area. The solid, earthy scent that reaches me is definitely not a cologne; it has to come from a werewolf. My pulse quickens, and I’m having a hard time keeping my smile at bay as my wolf jumps excitedly.

He pushes himself away from his car, scenting me more. His face spreads into a cocky, somewhat arrogant smirk as he approaches me slowly on his treetrunk-sized thighs. He takes off his cap before we reach each other, scratching his buzzcut hair nervously on the way.

We stop and stare at each other for a few moments in silence, not knowing what to say. He averts his gaze, then looks back at me, clearly trying to cover his nervousness. Up close, his smirk is less arrogant, his eyes sparkle with interest, and as he exhales through those delicious lips, I shiver.

This is the moment I’ve been waiting for as long as I can remember. Growing up on a farm, right outside of our Pack’s territory, I lived for the full moon runs. During the night, when the moon was the brightest, we joined our Pack and ran together for hours. Every other day, we acted as humans, trading the products our pack distributed – wood, game, and furs. My parents ran the shop in the nearest human town.

I wonder how he survived and what his family was doing when everything went to shit. Were they as scared as us? Did they know what was going on? Have they been searching for others? But maybe these shouldn’t be my first questions.

“Hi,” I say as my eyes search his. White freckles adorn his sea-blue eyes as they narrow because of the beaming sun.

“Hey there,” he replies with a Southern accent. “I wasn’t sure I should come looking for you. But then I thought, why else have you left the details of how to find you, right?” he raises a groomed eyebrow.

My shoulders relax with my happy laugh. “Right,” I reply joyfully. Bliss pushes forward before I can stop her, and her blue eyes shine through my brown ones.

Not even a moment later, his wolf responds with his dark blue covering the guy's light ones.

“Well, that’s a way to introduce themselves,” I laugh at my wolf’s eagerness.

“It is,” he laughs at me. “I’m Jason, but everyone calls me Juice,” He offers his hand, and I take it.

“I’m Becca,” I reply, leaning closer. His long fingers envelop my smaller hand, with his warmth buzzing through me.

“So, Becca. Are you searching for someone or just leaving breadcrumbs for anyone to follow?” he asks with that cocky smirk again, and I instantly know he didn’t come up with this joke just now.

“I’ve been dying to meet anyone who is like … me. You know,” I point to my eyes, not saying aloud the obvious secret we share. As he drags in a huge breath, I examine his face. His eyes turned back to that light blue with white freckles. He has a definite, straight nose with depressed roots, a sharp jawline, and slim, almost hollow cheeks, making his chin stand out. His clean-shaven face gives him a boyish look. He can’t be over 25, I think, at first, but then remember, it’s harder to tell with werewolves.

“I see,” he shoves his hands into his jeans pockets with a sudden shy expression. “This is my first time meeting someone… you know.”

My smile widens as I sense his excitement. “Mine too, except my family, of course,” I add quickly, standing from one foot to another again, unable to calm myself.

He nods when the door behind us opens with a loud thud. ”Becca,” Nicky, my technician, yells to me from the door. “Scott is on stage, and he wants you.”

“Coming,” I yell back quickly before turning back to Jason Juice. What a stupid name, I laugh internally.

“I have to go back. Do you live here?” I ask.

“Yes, in a nearby town.”

“That’s nice. I’m leaving tomorrow with the band.” I scrunch my face. “Can we change numbers? Would you want to meet later today, maybe? I have a few hours in the afternoon before the concert.”

“That would be great,” he replies, checking his phone.

I take mine from the back pocket of my jean shorts and type in his number before texting him so he has mine, too.

“See you later, Jason Juice,” I say giddily.

“Just Juice,” he warns as I turn on my heels to hurry back to work.

Happiness bubbles through my veins, lightening my steps as the heavy door closes behind me.

'What do you think, Bliss?' I ask her, and I know she is thinking about the same thing - if we are the last ones, we are probably mates.

'We won't know that till we shift,' she replies, and I nod internally.

Mate bonds only reveal themselves under the moon when we are in wolf form. No humans could ever tell who they are mated to.

'Let's hope he wants to meet again tonight to shift.'