Chapter 2

~Mona~

I wake up, my eyes flickering as they focus on the brightness around me. All I can see is a single drop hovering above me, a blur of colors that turn and weave, twist and turn.

"Are you awake?" a beautiful musical voice rips through the void I'm suspended in, bringing me to the present with a thud. Everything suddenly comes into focus, the blurry edges sharpening into easily distinguishable images.

Am I dreaming?

A spectacularly beautiful man stares at me, his striking green eyes bewildering me with their brilliance. I feel lost in them, examining their marvelous beauty, trapped in their spectacular gaze.

His skin is tanned and muscular, his arms prominent, his hands strong and firm. Dressed in a t-shirt and cargo shorts, he is casually dressed, but he has an elegance that cannot be explained.

Straight and long, his hair cut around his jaw, framing his face with pride. Layers are everywhere, short strands accompanied by long, carelessly tousled strands. The bangs subconsciously make me want to push them back so I can still look into his eyes without distractions.

The strangest thing about his hair, though, is that it's blue. A royal blue, even, that shines in the sun. But the hair suits him, complimenting his slightly tanned skin and emerald eyes.

"Hello?" he asks again, his voice soothing in my ears. I blink once, trying to adjust to the incredible beauty before me. A man this handsome has never been within five feet of me before.

Finally examining myself, I notice that my leg is no longer bleeding, covered with a thick bandage. My shoulder is also covered.

I am lying on a soft and plush couch. The floor is pure marble, deep black with touches of white trying to make their way into the tile. A huge chandelier, crystals dancing generously just below its metallic branches, hangs delicately from a thin gray wire in the center of the room. There is an impressive collection of books, a gigantic bookcase that stretches from wall to wall.

But, of course, all my attention is focused on the man.

He laughs as I scan his face again, admiring his perfection, looking at masculine features that, in my school, I could only observe from a distance.

I cough once, trying to croak a few words out of my mouth. "Shh," he whispers, holding his hand over my mouth, "your throat is probably dry. Let me get you some water first. His hand is so comfortable, and I feel, somehow, saddened when he releases it from my face.

As he makes his way to a stainless steel sink, I am unable to find a single emotion conveyed in his wandering. He seems to glide, to walk in a way that is almost impossible to describe.

This is just one of the strange things I notice about him.

Another thing that piques my curiosity is his eyes. When I flew over him before, I didn't notice the reflection of light on his pupils.

Now, upon closer observation, I realize that there is no reflection. The light is not bouncing off his eye, but rather sinking into it. It's barely noticeable, even by me, the exam queen, but I can now see the difference. The bright emerald green seems to catch the light and display it in his irises, his pupils a deep black in comparison. When I look at them, and he returns my gaze, my form is not visible in his pupil.

He brings a cool glass of crystal water to my lips, pouring it gently into my mouth. "Can you speak?" he probed.

"Yes," I murmured faintly.

"Okay, good," he smiled brightly.

I suddenly found it hard to speak. "Thanks for saving me," I stammer. He lets out a musical laugh, the most beautiful I've ever heard.

"It was my pleasure."

I feel embarrassed; suddenly disconcerted by the way he scans my face, my body. I begin to feel nervous when I meet his gaze, even a glance at his beautiful, assessing eyes causing butterflies in my stomach. The need arises to avoid this strange and foreign behavior towards me, to go back to the orphanage and work on that science project I didn't do earlier because I thought I would die today.

I sit up quickly, my back resting on the soft pillows, then try to swing my legs to the side. Before I can get my feet on the floor, however, he grabs my legs and rests them on the couch, the hint of a smile on his lips. I feel a tingle of delight as he touches them, his fingers lingering for a bit before pulling back. "What do you think you're doing?" he asks, rather laughing.

"Getting out." I decide to tell him the truth. "Thanks again for your help."

His eyes widen, "But you can't just leave! We need to know more about each other! I don't even know your name."

He's so different from any guy I've ever met. It actually seems like he wants to know more about me. His gaze tugs at mine, his expression one of disappointment. If I didn't know better... I'd say he likes me, or at least my looks.

But, the thing is, I do know better. Being loved is a privilege reserved for people prettier than me.

I straighten up so quickly that my movement is almost a blur, ignoring the pain my movements invoke in my wounds. The joke is over. "Well, sorry. I'm leaving," I say abruptly. Why does my rudeness have to break out at a time like this? I really need to work on my social skills. He saved my life, after all.

I guess his behavior scares me. The way he looks at me seriously, with such devotion, is rather unsettling and strange. It's unlike anything I've ever experienced before, and honestly, I've never been so scared in my life.

I start walking towards the door, my slightly damp red hair waving in the light breeze. Maybe this is all a dream. Maybe in a few minutes I'll wake up to find that this man is just a figment of my imagination.

"Please stop!" I hear his relaxing, hypnotizing voice, but I manage to push his command from my mind. He can't compel me to continue this joke any longer. Clearly, he is playing with me by pretending to be attracted, in order to make his friends laugh later. However, as I continue walking, there is a blur, and then...

He's standing right in front of me, blocking the door.

How did he do that? He was standing more than ten feet away from me before.

I become like a sheep that has been backed into a corner. "What are you? What do you want from me?" I beg, my eyes crossing his, pleading earnestly.

His eyes flicker at my comment, then strangely, he puts on a resigned expression. "Come, sit down while I explain.

He leads me back to the couch and I sit down carefully. I have to admit that no matter how creepy this sounds, I am shamefully happy to spend a few more seconds gazing at his attractive face. However, I try not to show it, instead displaying a doubtful frown.

He takes a deep breath, then speaks. "My name is Xavier, and I am what you would call a werewolf."

Shock and disbelief run through my mind, freezing me to the bone. Oh, what a shame, I think sadly, this incredibly hot guy, the only one who's ever talked to me, is a weirdo. I can tell he believes his outlandish claims too. His eyes try to catch my gaze, a hopeful expression displayed there.

"There's no such thing as werewolves," I tell him slowly, as if he were in kindergarten. I know he doesn't deserve my disdain, but...really?

"Are you saying I don't exist?" he asks, irritated. I can't help but notice how cute he looks when he's offended, and I wonder if I really want to wake up from this dream.

"No, although you might need to go talk to a counselor or something about some mental issues," I snap automatically, then immediately wish I could take back my harsh words. For me, name calling is a default, almost encouraged by people's equally dismissive response.

He looks frustrated now, a small pout on his fleshy lips, strands of his blue hair falling into his eyes. What's strange is that he doesn't seem to be angry or even annoyed with me, but with himself. What kind of guy is he? He proves almost everything I thought was true about all guys.

"I guess I'll just have to prove it to you," he mumbles softly. His eyes narrow, his lips pursed with concentration. He seems to be focusing on something, something I can't detect.

"There's no way you can prove to me that-"

I am interrupted by his sudden transfiguration, watching in shock and amazement as the beautiful man suddenly melts, his head falling into his body. It's like a waterfall, the way his body collapses in on itself. However, there is a flicker of light before he becomes a puddle on the ground, his-body-liquid-I-don't-really-know-what shape. Another millisecond and he has that shape.

A colossal wolf with sharp white teeth and dark eyes that match its pupils.

I recoil in horror. Nothing I had read or seen about werewolves had prepared me for this.

He barks once, a deep sound that reminds me roughly of his baritone laugh, his shaggy fur a creamy light brown color that matches his skin. He, like his human counterpart, is absolutely gorgeous. My breath is taken away as I examine him and his huge, graceful form. What amazes me most is his authoritative aura, demanding respect even from me.

Similar to the previous morph, he suddenly collapses, falling quickly to the ground. There is a flash of light, and he becomes the incredibly sexy man he was before.

Frightened, I take a step back, not looking where I'm going. Xavier, beautiful as he is, seems ethereal. Somehow, my brain refuses to believe that werewolves exist, and even though I'm now being given proof, it's still a lot to take in. It's almost too much for me to accept, no matter how true it is.

My feet slide out from under me as I hit something hard and firm. I feel the ground rush to meet me, my arms flailing, trying to regain my balance.

A pair of strong, firm hands pass underneath me, propelling me back to my standing position. They are warm, releasing shocks through my body. I am certainly aware of its presence.

"Please believe me," he removes his hands from my back, coldness now flooding the previously warm place where his hand had been.

"I... I..." I mumbled softly, disconcerted by his proximity, but shivering at the absence of his big, warm hands. He seemed to sense it, reaching over and grabbing my right hand, the warmth spreading like wildfire throughout my body.

Nervousness overtakes me and I withdraw my thin hand. His eyes widen in surprise as I shove them into my pockets. "Don't you want me to touch you?" he asked curiously, "Don't you trust me?"

Yes, I want you to touch me. Yes I do trust you. Even if I don't know why.

"I don't know you. Why should I? I throw to him casually. He blinks once, almost in surprise rather than irritation. Perplexity is etched into his features, as if he's genuinely confused at the idea that he doesn't.

I start to get angry with myself. Why do I have to be so bitter?

"Okay, I'll wait then," he smiles weakly. Other than his slightly diminished smile, he doesn't seem discouraged, though, continuing almost as energetically as before.

Is this guy for real?

"Well, you might as well give up now, otherwise you'll be waiting forever." I look away, letting the harsh words leave my lips.

"Don't worry, I'm willing to wait forever. I have all the time in the world," he says softly, his words making me jump.

Of course you do. How can I forget? He's not even a human.

"I think you're forgetting that I'll die in about seventy-five years. I don't have forever," I whisper, my voice caught by his sensitive ears. Silence stretches between us as the seconds pass. I feel uncomfortable, trying to look away from him.

He laughs again, a sound that begins to melt my heart. "I think you underestimate me, Mona."

Wow. Wait a second.

"How do you know my name?" I ask furiously. He winks at me in response, waving my student ID in front of my eyes. Squinting my eyes, I reach out to him. "Give it back."

"Should I?" he teases, triggering my anger. I lunge at him, and he smiles wickedly. "Oh, well this is getting interesting."

It only takes a few seconds of violently grasping thin air before I realize I'm not going to forcibly retrieve my ID. He moves his arms so fast that it's impossible to even touch him. Rolling my eyes in resignation, I lean back and collapse against the couch.

"Would you ever consider giving him back?"

"Sure. One day. I really like this picture of you." He looks at it again, and my mind goes back to when that picture was taken. It was about six months ago, and also the day I lost my glasses again, leaving me half blind and unable to even tie my shoes, let alone comb my hair. I had even worn my shirt inside out. It was horrible.

I realize now that he was really laughing at me.

I say nothing, my eyes returning to him. I subconsciously focus on the way the sunlight seems to catch on his azure hair and sparkle, making his whole head look like it's dusted with stardust. He doesn't wait for me to speak. "But anyway... I doubt it will take you long to fall in love with me."

"How come, werewolf? I look at him, amazed at his emphasis and how honest he sounds as he says those words.

"My charm is so overwhelming." He flips his hair and gives me a bright, stunning smile. I'm almost blinded by his beauty. "How could you not?"

"How could I, you arrogant brat?!" I reply in a biting tone, "I prefer a trait in men that you don't possess: humility." And a brain, of course.

"I was joking," he defends himself, "come on Mona, you know that! I'm not like any boy you've met before. I would sacrifice anything, even my life, for you. I know that's a strange statement to make, but I really feel that way. Every werewolf feels that way about their mate. You can trust me-"

"What did you just say?" I ask dangerously, interrupting his diatribe. I can't believe my ears, my eyes crinkle. He did not just say that...

"You're... my mate," he says hesitantly, pausing slightly before continuing, "If you weren't my mate, I would have killed you in the forest. I'm not usually very kind to trespassers who stumble our way." After a short period of shocked silence, he grabs my hands and squeezes them. "I'm all yours," he whispers, looking deep into my eyes with unfathomable intensity.

I laugh at the way he mentions it so lightly. He tells me I am his "mate," bound to him for life (or afterlife), and he expects me to understand that? To immediately obey his request?

I can see the seriousness and fear in his beautiful green eyes, silently begging me to understand.

I am most surprised that he expects me to take him seriously. Or maybe he doesn't. Maybe he just wants the satisfaction of making me fall for his sly tricks. I have to say, he's a wonderful liar.

Anger overwhelms me, my heart rate quickens. Why don't I have the choice to be his companion? Is he so superior that he can't give me the opportunity to be free?

"Uh, well, uh..." I slowly make my way to the door, heading for the exit that will free me from this nightmare. My red hair falls over my face, my hands shaking. Xavier smiles as the phone begins to ring, causing my stomach to involuntarily flip.

"Excuse me while I take this call," he says quickly, moving out of my sight. I hear footsteps and then nothing. I sigh with relief. The coast is clear.

Oh wonderful phone, you are my savior.

I run to the door, open it on the fly and rush out into the considerably lightened rain. The light mist drenches my nose, dancing around my toes as I wade through the muddy earth, my bare feet dyed brown. My red hair is loose and wavy, flying as a blast of cold wind pushes it far behind me. I hold my ballet flats in my hand, casually sticking my tongue out to catch a drop of water falling from the sky.

Freedom is at hand.