Chapter 12

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Dylan's words echoed in my ears. I'm a werewolf? Like him? Of course, it all made sense. The claws, the full moon, it was blatantly obvious. Oh god. I heard my own voice say:
"But that's crazy, I mean, that's like fairy tale stuff right?" My voice sounded hollow. Even to me, that excuse was lame. My eyes literally began to glow, my hands grew claws and I grew fangs.
"Is there really any other way to explain it Jas? I-" Dylan started, but I interrupted him.
"Dylan, even if I do believe you, what does that even mean for me?"
"Well, if you'd let me finish..." he jokingly said, grinning. I apologized and he continued. "Look Jas, I'm just gonna lay down the facts. You're a werewolf. I'm a werewolf. Those people that turned into wolves? Yea they're werewolves too. We aren't the only pack in the area."
"Wh-what?" I stammered, "You mean there's more?"
"You may have noticed the increasing amount of animal attacks? It's because of a rival pack. We killed one of theirs, and now they're out for vendetta."
"You mean the boy in the woods when I got shot?" I asked.
"Yea, him. He exposed us to a human. Can I finish?" he inquired, rather bluntly. I again apologized, and he went on. "He was really just a kid. I shouldn't have done it. But Tara was so insistent..."
     His supersonic mood change threw me off. He went from a joking know- it-all to a sad and wistful teen feeling guilty about something. I wondered absently if he was always like this. And then, yet again, he seemed to shake off the somber mood as quickly as it had appeared.
"It had to be done. No question. So anyway, there's a rival pack. A hunter has just moved into town from Greece, and-"
" Wait just moved from Greece?" I interrupted again, much to his annoyance. "But that's Will's..."
"Uncle. I know. I was hoping to keep you out of this."
"Tell me," I said, in a wistful tone, "please, Dylan, tell me what the hell I've gotten myself into."
"We have been hunted for, literally, thousands of years. Do you know the story of King Lycaon?" He asked.
"Ancient Greek right? Lycaon invited the god Zeus to dinner, but Zeus got butt hurt or something and turned him and his sons all into wolves?" I tried.
"'Butt hurt' might not be a great term for it, but yes, that's the story. Of course, I don't believe in Zeus or any gods, but like all stories, it has a shred of truth. The first lycanthrope was named after king Lycaon. It did all start in Ancient Greece." Dylan explained. "But with werewolves, came hunters."
Alone, in the dark, the word sounded ominous. Hunters. This household word, used in day to day conversations, had taken a new meaning for me. It sent chills down my spine.
     "And hunters, kill... werewolves?" The words sounded like a joke even as I said them. There's no such thing as werewolves.
     But you're real whispered a voice in my mind.
"Basically, yes. We're considered lesser beings." Dylan said, picking lint off of my bed sheets. He seemed so calm, level headed, talking about a group of people who want his death.
"So, hunting. Hunters. It's like, it's a family thing?" I asked.
"Yeah." he responded, "they train their children to be warriors. Kind of sexist, daughters aren't allowed to train." He added absentmindedly.
"So you're telling me, that my best friend, Will, is going to be a werewolf hunter?" I asked, rather sarcastically.
Dylan seemed unfazed. "That's exactly what I'm telling you."
I almost didn't believe him. Almost. But something inside me knew, just knew, that Dylan was telling me the truth. Or at least, what he truly and honestly believed to be the truth.
"So what do I do? Can I still go to school? Can I still see him? What happens on full moons?" I said in a rush.
Dylan's expression darkened. "School might be a problem for a while. Your senses will heighten, everything will be amplified. And I mean everything."
My stomach tightened. "What's everything?"
He looked at me. "Everything. From your hearing to your sense of smell, it even stems certain reactions to different situations."
     "What kind of situations?" I asked.
     Dylan looked uncomfortable. "All kinds," he cleared his throat, rather awkwardly. "Your sex drive will he hyped."
     Was he blushing? He was definitely blushing. "Well that's... comforting to know, I suppose." I responded just as awkwardly
      "It's not just sex, of course." he continued, "It's your anger, your aggression. When I bit you, the infection was caused by a bacteria we carry. That same bacteria holds cells that don't have very much genetic structure to them. Almost none at all, they multiply too quickly to develop much of anything. So, they copy what's already there, on an exponential scale."
It was a lot to process. "So, basically anything, any emotion or trait that was already there will just be made more intense?" I asked.
     He stared at me for a moment, then laughed. "Yeah," he chuckled, "that's a simpler way to explain it."
"But," I said, "it's not all magic or occult, it's..." I paused, "science. DNA. Genetics."
"Magic isn't real, Jas. Werewolves are." He moved closer as he said this, his voice breathy and soft. "Real as you," he tucked a flyaway strand of hair behind my ear, "real as me." The air was heavy, the atmosphere electric, intense.
"Dylan," I breathed, voice low, "why did you save me that day in the woods?"
He wouldn't meet my eyes. His wavy hair slightly obscuring his view of me.
"I don't know." I shivered.
He was lying to me. Why? "You took a risk, d-didn't you?" I stammered. My head was fuzzy, my heart thumping, blood running through my veins like fire. The very air was alive, twisting, pulsating.
"Yes," he whispered, "I did, Jas. You were the risk, and I took it." He had one of his hands on my waist now, breathing heavily. His nose brushed my forehead, his other hand reached up and stroked my hair, entwining itself in it.
"Why?" I breathed, fighting to stay in control of the situation.
"I can't tell you, Jas. I can't." he slurred. I took a slight breath in surprise as he suddenly pulled me closer. "I can't explain it, because it's not something I chose to do."
"What do you mean, Dylan? What did you do?" I was losing myself, losing myself in those dark eyes, in his smell, in this buzzing electricity between us.
He looked deep into my eyes, "Jas, we both did. Can you feel it?"
I didn't know what 'it' was. But in that moment, I looked into his chocolate brown eyes, he looked back into mine, and something inside me clicked. The world focused into perfect clarity. Time slowed, light bent, sound muted.
Dylan. There, in front of me. "You can feel it too, right?" he whispered. It was the same as before. When he clawed me. The crack of the whip, the feeling of the free fall on a roller coaster. I knew exactly what he meant. All I could do was mutely nod. I felt a throbbing all over, felt hot and cold at the same time, tired, wide awake, energized, exhausted. He pulled me close, his warm, strong hands wrapping themselves around me.
And then, with hearts pounding, the air cracking with energy, he leaned forward.
And he kissed me.

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⏰ Last updated: May 14, 2017 ⏰

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