Becca “I’m sorry, Baby,” Jason says again. “Do you have any idea how to get back to the track or the cliff?” I ask. My voice is breaking with a cry, bringing on the human girl mad at her boyfriend. I twirl, gesturing with my hands around us. “Ummm…” “It’s only trees everywhere. The same fucking trees,” I yell again and put in another wallowing cry. “I think that way,” Jason points in a seemingly random direction, but I know it would take us back to the parking lot. “Good,” and without another word, I continue that way, with Jason catching up to me and apologizing again on the way. We drink and eat on the way, stating loudly how hungry we are and how much better the picnic on the top was yesterday. I’m confident in our act, as we stop 30 minutes later to have the same ‘we are lost’ discussion accompanied by my next crying session. Jason plays his part well, cuddling me and acting convinced that he’ll get the right direction this time. We head for the track that takes us to the
Becca When Jason requested separate rooms at the Inn yesterday evening, I had difficulty covering the hurt on my face. Judging by the receptionist’s expression, I failed completely. At least my room for the night was warm and cozy, with hot water in the shower. It had everything a girl would need, right? Well, the only missing piece was a man to curl around me… And not just any man. Sleeping without Jason’s arm tucked at my waist left me tossing and turning all night. I swear the rhythm of his heartbeat has been engraved in my soul, and now I need it to stay sane. His scent still lingers on some of my clothes, although I refused to bring any of them into bed with me. As the morning sun peeks through the curtains, I stare at the ceiling, listening for any sounds coming from his room. He must still be sleeping. Without the worry lines on his forehead or the tension in his shoulders. Calm and relaxed. And probably naked. Is his morning excitement matching mine? A breathy sigh leaves m
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, h
Becca I’m giddy with excitement all through rehearsal. I’ve met another werewolf. I can’t believe it. Every five minutes, my hand flies to my back pocket to take out my phone and text him, but I resist the temptation. I need to focus and finish with each band member as quickly as possible. Scott, the lead, has been a pain in my ass since day one. At first, he said I couldn’t be his sound engineer because men have better hearing, and he knows I will fuck up his tour. His manager convinced him to ‘give me one night so that I can prove myself’. Like I need to prove anything to anyone, I’ve been working on concerts for six years, and my reputation succeeds me. I have a team of the best technicians, and there has never been a complaint on any of the shows I did. Thanks to my werewolf hearing, I can detect any problem before anybody else hears it; I can easily balance all the speakers from my stage and distinguish each instrument regardless of the arena's size. I can choose which tour I
Becca The show is about to end, and I reach for my phone to text Jason Juice. I gotta stop calling him that. Why does he hate his name? I offered him tickets or even to get backstage, but he politely said he wasn’t into rock music and he was actually going to a club to see a DJ’s show. I pouted my lips at that, but we agreed to meet after I packed up things here. We had a great time chatting through dinner, and I got used to his cocky sway of talking, his shining earpiece and the way he checked his phone quite often. I get back to the hotel to drop off my work stuff and get my Eastpak springer to carry my phone, wallet, and key. I can easily swing it through my head in wolf form to keep it around my neck. When he doesn’t reply, I look up the DJ and take an Uber to get me to the club. The enormity of my mistake washes over me the moment I exit the car. I turn to get back and leave, but as the street is flooded with people leaving the club, someone takes the car right away. I tenta
Becca My heartbeat pounds in my ears like a drum as I turn away. Shaky breaths leave Bliss’ jaw as she sits back on her hind legs. Is Jason as excited as I am? Is he trembling like a leaf as I am? Anticipation is killing me as I wait for him to shift. The moon is so bright tonight that my eyes burn after staring at it for too long, leaving a crescent shape in my vision when I close my eyes. Finally, a snout nudges my side, and I brace my muscles to keep me straight as I turn. Makya's dark blue eyes shine like crystals in the dark, and his fur is onyx-black, barely reflecting the moonlight. ‘Bliss?’ I ask, admiring how magnificent he is. His chest puffed out, his ears listening intently; he is a predator. Even without moving an inch, I can see how his muscles are built to hunt, to run, to fight. Bliss steps closer, scenting him. His scent of pine tree and rosehip. ‘Not mates,’ she sighs sadly. ‘He is so gorgeous, though.’ I exhale a sigh of relief. I won’t be rejected tonight.
Becca Completely exhausted, I fell asleep during the drive to Jason’s home, even with the warming morning sun burning through the window. “Becca,” he nudges my shoulder carefully, and when my head falls to the side, he catches it with his hand. Warmth spreads as he caresses under my eye with his thumb. “Becca?” he asks again. My eyes open slower than I’d like, and my moves are sleepy as I wake. “Hey,” sea-blue eyes greet me, and I swear the white freckles shine like diamonds. “Hey,” I croak and blink before I do something reckless and reach out to pull him closer. He lays back in his chair, dropping his hand from my face, when I lift my head. I yawn, looking around, dazed. Numbness paralyzes my right arm because I kept it at the wrong angle during my nap. Willing the sleepiness away, I scrape my eyes. I sigh nervously as I get out of the car and approach their home. It is the last house on the street, with a forest behind their backyard and crop fields on the side. I stand next
Becca “Smoke is coming from the stage,” a frightened voice bellows in my earpiece, and I immediately reach for the end of the console to turn it off. “Shut down everything,” I reply, jumping from my small stage to run towards the stage. “Get everyone off the stage. The main distributor is next to entrance B2,” I instruct my team and look towards that on the way. Two of my assistants rush to the door to find the main fuse and switch off the electricity in the whole arena. Someone shrieks as the arena darkens. The exit signs are the only lights, and we all turn on the flashlight on our phones to navigate in the dark. I can already smell the scent of overheated equipment and mutter a curse, hoping it won’t burst into flames. “Everyone, find an exit and leave,” I yell, my voice echoing through the empty walls. If an amplifier or a speaker catches on fire, it can start a chain of reaction, and the sound system can be damaged or burned down in a matter of minutes. I pick up my speed. N