Guardian

Chapter 7

 Thomas threw open the door and rushed out into the night, barely remembering to shut it behind him. Snowflakes gently landed in his hair and on his short-sleeved shirt. They brushed softly against his cheeks, leaving trails of water down his face. His breath burst out in misty puffs of warmth. Aye, and the chill was welcome. He was burning hot.

The man's lips. His idol's lips! What was that? Who kisses a person out of the blue that way? The heat pooled uncomfortably in his lower belly and radiated outward. Spots of light danced around the edges of his vision. A shiver raced down his spine. The scene replayed over and over in his mind.

Curse you, Aidan McCreary.

Thomas wasn't prey. He was the predator. How did that man make him feel like the small rabbit he caught the first time he went hunting? The wee thing huddled there, panicked, waiting for him to deliver the final blow.

It was just that way, wasn't it? He'd just stood there as Aidan leaned in. His eyes. They were actually blueish with flecks of gold that made them green in most lights. Black eyelashes. For a moment they were all Thomas could see. Then...

The bloody man kissed him! On the lips! His whole body was pressed against him. He still could feel the weight of it. Hard and...

Hard!

Hard! The man had been...

H-A-R-D.

Thomas had an overwhelming urge to storm back through that door and give that oaf a piece of his mind. A picture of him raking his claws down Aidan's back and hearing the catch in his voice as he begged for mercy vanished as quickly as it came. Maybe he should go in and give him as good as he got. He should plant a big wet one right on his mouth and watch him squirm.

He turned around to do just that. Then the first feeling of ripping muscle and rearranging bone snapped him back to the present. "Ye must focus. Keep moving."

Every part of him vibrated, wanting to break free from his humanness, to become one with the wild. An icy breeze brushed the small hairs on his arms and was welcome in contrast to the heat raging through his system. He had to get to somewhere private before the heat consumed him! The two men inside couldna see him this way. He would do whatever it took. The outbuilding wasna far.

He was halfway there. He could make it. He dashed toward it, stripping his shirt as he went.

Without warning, every hair on the back of his neck stood up. Who or what was watching him?

He froze and slowly shifted to look behind him. There, standing in the second-story window, was the ghost from earlier. Her expression was so sad it made the house seem darker.

Slowly, she turned from the window and disappeared from sight. Thomas wondered what it must be like to exist in-between, to never be able to move at a normal speed, to see and occasionally touch, but never enjoy the taste of food. It must be lonely. She'd been here a long time, of that he was sure.

Her presence served as a frosty bath for the heat under his skin. He became aware of the woodsmoke that settled into his hair and joined with the smells of snow and fish from the lake. The icy snowflakes touched his bare shoulders. He shivered at the fierceness of the cold that settled his bones back into their human form. His core cooled. The vibrating ceased. He even felt his hair settle back into its rightful place.

As reason returned, so did his mother's tear-stained face. She popped into his mind so intensely and completely that the rest of the world around him vanished and all that was left was that moment.

He carefully placed himself slightly downwind of the small creature. He shifted his ear toward the sound of it munching a small seed as he followed it with his eyes. He was hungry that morning, so he'd been particularly careful. He placed both hind paws underneath him, ready to pounce. Then, the dirt beneath his feet was suddenly missing and he was in the air.