Wolves and Lycans: We Were Wolves

Chapter Two.

The first time my eyes alight on Mason, I'm in a library looking for a book to distract myself from the feeling Alicia and her boyfriend, Cade, have aroused in me. I content myself with trying to find a book that can offer me the illusion of being in a hot, romantic relationship.

Searching the shelves, absorbed with our search as we were, Mason and I bump elbows. I glance at him and can't look away. His lips are perfect, framed by a sexy five o'clock shadow. His eyelashes are long, and I can see the shade they cast on his face. From head to toe, he looks as hot as Dean. And add a few more degrees. Something about his—

‘You are hot,’ he says to me but doesn't spare a glance.

My heart races. I fumble for the right response to the compliment. Who needs a book when they can have the real thing anyway?

Finally, he turns his face to me. Maybe he thinks I didn't catch that because I may have appeared confused, so he says it again. ‘You are hot.’

I can't help the girly giggle I give. He immediately gives me a blank look. ‘Oh,’ he says, realizing, ‘I didn't mean that. I meant that your body temperature is high.’ He has this cool confidence when he speaks, it makes me feel safe.

Wait. What?

He goes back to tracing an index finger across books on the shelves. I do nothing but stare at him in shock, but he doesn't notice. Or is used to girls staring.

I sniff. ‘You don't look like the book type,’ I say, seconds after. ‘What are you looking for?’

I feel awkward when he gives me an unreadable stare before replying, ‘Something distracting.’

‘Me too,’ I say. I add silently, And I have found you.

I pretend to resume searching for a book. ’I am Claire Benning. You?’ Kelvins! He is smoking hot.

‘Mason.’

‘Mason what?’

‘Mason With-no-last-name,’ he replies curtly.

‘Are you always rude to girls you just met?’ I fire.

Mason rolls his eyes and prepares to move off. I snatch a book off the shelf and slap it to his chest. He offers me a questioning look as he automatically takes it.

‘It's a great read. I've read it. Twice,’ I say about the book. He scrutinizes every square inch of the spine and cover, and I scrutinize the mapping of his face. The library must be slippery because I'm falling in love.

He asks a curious question about the book, which I answer. Before we know it, we are having a conversation. We find an empty table away from other library users and continue to discuss the book.

Then we move on to many topics. I decide I'm completely in love, then he mentions my secret in a hushed tone. My jaw goes slack. But ordinary people can't connect a feverish temperature like mine to something as outlandish as lycanthropy. Except it's someone who knows about us.

Quickly, the shock leaks from my face. Or someone who is one of us. Something clicks about Mason. His beauty, his physique, his masculine elegance; it's all too strong and attractive not to be lycanthropy. He appears stronger than an alpha. A lycan?

I tell him my thoughts and elicit the first smile from him of our entire conversation. He doesn't deny it, the part about being a werewolf at least; but he says he is no lycan. But close.

‘Claire, I find you fascinating,’ he tells me near the end.

To that, I assume a disappointed visage. ‘Is that all?’