《THE WOLF AND THE CROW》


 THE WOLF AND THE CROW | PART ONE

    I don''t remember the first time I saw him. I guess he was always there, the crow. Hiding in the trees, watching. He''s good at that, being the quiet, watchful type. He never gives anything away; I never know what he''s thinking until he does something. He''s more of a doer than a talker; I quickly caught onto that. At least if he''s going to do something, he thinks about it first. He thinks a lot, that quiet black crow.


    He and his ''nephew'' arrived at the compound before my pack. The boss had scouted for potential guards in New York and picked up the pair there. They were some of the first to arrive four years ago after construction was completed. I''d seen him around the training cell and gym. All of us guards had something quirky about us in one way or another, so I couldn''t say he stuck out to me more than any of the other guys, at least not at first.


    The first time I met him was about two years ago.


    At the height of my misery, I''d sit in the tavern from eight PM until midnight. The ten-man bunk room I''d been rehoused in wasn''t home - the cabin in the Lycan camp wasn''t either; it wasn''t Custer County, Idaho, but none of that mattered when I was getting into bed next to Alison every night. She was my home, but with her gone, too, I had no place to rest.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    The bar stool was only slightly more unforgiving to my back than the bunk I was supposed to be sleeping my shift off in, but the beer tasted better than the nightmares. I''d been about to order another bottle-


    "Can I buy you a drink?" He asked in a deep and tranquil voice.


    "Sure..." I put a face to the voice and wasn''t surprised to find that it belonged to Hayashi Kage, but I couldn''t immediately figure out why he''d want to buy me a drink. "What''s the occasion?"


    "You''re the one in command of the Southeast Gate?"


    "Uh, second in command." I smiled toothlessly.


    "You''re humble. You''re in command of Kenichi, though? Is that correct?" He''d ordered us both another round but kept his long, pale fingers anchored about my bottle of bud'', withholding it until I answered his question to satisfaction.


    "Kenichi..." I repeated. Ah yes, the untamable demonic kin that Apollo had no time for. "Yeah, you could say that. I work with him, at least."


    He took a swig from his glass and continued, "He says you''ve taken him under your wing." I glanced at the bottle he still held captive. The condensation on the glass was starting to trickle over his fingers.


    "Uh, well... Sorta. I guess? He''s a good kid. He''s just-"


    "-A piece of work?"


    "I was going to say relentless."


    Hayashi smiled and rewarded me with my beer. In my half-baked state, I felt my tail wag, but then he said, "Kenichi said you were kind." and my mood nosedived.


    Kind? I was the most abhorrent person I knew. And it wouldn''t be long until he found out why...

 LIES BY OMISSION | PART TWO

    Lycan avoided disturbing the peace of the wood wherever possible. It wasn''t just out of respect; it was pack culture, our way of life. Yet, that night, there was nowhere indoors vast enough to contain our emotions.


    The flicker of anger and pain I''d glimpsed in Alison''s eyes told me she needed to get out of that cabin. I''d only just arrived, I''d barely spoken three words, and she''d burst past me and fled into the trees. As her clothes fell to the floor and her fur blossomed over her pale skin, she yowled. My heart ached watching my love in pain; my brow furrowed, and fresh tears sprung. This was all my fault, and it hurt. I''d turned to chase after her when Eli appeared in the hallway. He''d heard his mother''s cry and come to her aid; instead, he found me.


    "Dad? What''s wrong with Mom?"


    "Oh, hey, bud''" I sniffled, pinching the dampness crying had brought away from my nose. "She''s just got a lot on her mind at the moment. Don''t worry, okay?"


    Slowly, he nodded, but his eyes didn''t accept my answer. I''d known for a long time that his adolescence bore curiosity; he''d begun to doubt if I always knew best or if everything I said was a white lie. These days, my lies were grey, haunting ghosts.


    "Are you gonna go after her?" Eli asked, taking one step closer to the doorway.


    "I''ll give her a minute to calm down." I said, "Is everyone else home?"


    "Lottie''s bathing Emma, but Benji''s playing with the neighbour kids out back."


    "Alright, you go back inside and look after your sister''s, I''ll go talk your Mom around." I''d lied again; there would be no talking her around, but I''d try. How was I supposed to tell my boy that I was the reason for the gaping hole in our family? He was barely sixteen and already the man of the house in my absence. The reason I didn''t live in the cabin with them wasn''t because of my work, because I needed to barrack with the other guards, it was because his mother couldn''t bear to look at me, because of all my lies.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Alison''s familiar, feminine scent made her easy to find amidst the bark and ferns. I caught sight of her, still graceful, though she frantically padded through the undergrowth. On the edge of the clearing, she came to rest. Silently, standing in her Lupine form, she stared up at the night sky between the leafy boughs of the canopy, her buff-coloured coat catching moonbeams. As I approached, her form shrunk, her fur slinked off her skin to reveal a curvaceous and equally elegant woman. Her swathe of waist-length blonde hair curled at the dimples on her back.


    "How could you? How could you tell me you miss me?" She choked, peering back over her shoulder. Pain trickled down her cheeks as tears that I joined her in.


    "Because I do." I shrugged, at a loss. "I miss you so much I can''t sleep at night."


    "You can''t sleep because you feel guilty, Nate."


    "I know." I put my head in my hands. "I do. But please... please let me come home?" I begged, clasping my hands in prayer before my quivering lips. With nothing left to lose and my pride long gone, I would''ve got down on my knees and kissed her feet if she''d asked me to.


    She grimaced, fresh tears bursting from her eyes. "I can''t." Her breath caught. "I can''t pretend. I''m not as good an actor as you." Helplessly, she yowled again, looking away, whether to hide how hard she was weeping or because she couldn''t bear to look at me. Maybe both. "I wish you hadn''t told me. Oh God, I wish I didn''t know. It''s been two years, and it still kills me. Why couldn''t you just keep on lying?"


    "I didn''t lie. I told you the truth."


    "Omission is just as much a lie." She spat, her eyes found mine again, glaring. "What made you say it? After sixteen years of marriage, Nate, what made you finally say it?"


    "It was the first time you''d asked me point blank. I was as surprised as you were."


    We hadn''t had sex in eighteen months; kisses had been fleeting pecks, and that was even if I dared approach her lips. Laying in bed one night, a moment after I''d turned out the bedside lamp, Alison had whispered a question into the dark that had weighed down her heart since the birth of our daughter, Emma.


    "Do you find me sexually attractive?" and I''d answered, "No."

 ADMISSION OF TRUTH | PART THREE

    The instant the admission slipped past my lips, my heart tore in two, just like hers. Alison didn''t cry or scream; she just lay there. She lay there while the sound of the ticking clock counted the seconds, the minutes, the hours. She stared at the ceiling, and I stared at her still, expressionless face until she asked the obvious.


    "Is there someone else?"


    "No." The second answer came as easily to me as the last.


    "Has there been someone else?"


    "No. Never."


    "Then -" Her voice cracked, "- why?"


    I clenched my jaw in case I blurted out the truth. I couldn''t make another slip-up. My silence earned me her gaze, and when she turned her head, tears rolled over her nose and soaked into the pillow beneath her head.


    "Is it because my body''s changed because of the kids? The stretch marks? Do I feel different... down there?"


    "No, none of that. You''re beautiful. I love you." That was all true. My wife was a stunningly beautiful woman, and I could easily admit that, but she just wasn''t the kind of beautiful that made my blood run hot.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    "Nate, I don''t understand."


    "It''s -" I was about to say something so cliche it made me cringe. "It''s not you, it''s me."


    "What d-"


    The landing light flicked on, illuminating the crack beneath our bedroom door. Lottie''s footsteps trudged sleepily down the landing to the bathroom. The light switch flicked on. The door opened and shut, the lock latched, and then the faint sound of trickling. ''Flush'', a gust of water. Then, all the sounds in reverse until the house was quiet and my eldest daughter was back in bed.


    In the meantime, Alison had been thinking over what I''d meant, and when I found her eyes again in the darkness, I could see that something had dawned on her.


    We didn''t talk it over. There was nothing I could say that would make anything better. Alison slipped out of our martial bed, went downstairs to make herself some tea, and never returned.


    The following day, we carried on as usual; ''for the sake of the kids,''. That was what we did right up until the world changed, and our home was no longer safe. Mortals were hunting Lycan, so as Pack Alpha, I put out some feelers within the wider community to find us a new home. An old friend put me in touch with Warren Howard, and though it wasn''t easy putting the lives of my family in the hands of a vampire, my first meeting with him put my mind at rest - he wasn''t like any vampire I''d ever met before, he was different.


    My pack and I moved to the Compound. In one fell swoop, I''d torn the heart and the roots right out from under my family and broke my loving home of sixteen years.

 CRY WOLF | PART FOUR

    Swallowed by the lonely darkness, I fell to my knees and wept on the forest floor. Alison had the last word before she left for the cabin. Now, I had to come to terms with the fact that I would never be allowed home. She''d replaced me. She had another man in her life. That man was none other than my brother, Aiden. Until then, I''d been holding onto my marriage, but now it was dead and gone. Now, every last ember of love had died; nothing left but ashes. She''d kindled a new flame with the one who had comforted her through our separation.


    But why did it have to be him? He was the reason Alison and I had gotten married in the first place. If he hadn''t abandoned our pack to go ''find himself'' in Europe, I wouldn''t have had to take over the mantle as Pack Alpha in the first place. My father, uncle, and elders wouldn''t have pressured me to marry, have pups, and continue our family legacy. I could''ve discovered myself, fled my pack, and lived a more honest life, whether with a steady lover or not.


    Beating my fists into the ground, I bared my teeth and screamed to vent some of my rage. I felt my lips begin to peel back as two deadly rows of canine fangs grew, gnashing in the hollow of my mouth, a guttural growl ripping up from my chest. My whole body quivered as my wolf threatened to break through my skin and slaughter the first living thing in sight.


    My transformation was interrupted by a response to my feral release of rage. The sound cut through the night. A singular caw. A plea to halt my madness.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    The claws at the end of my still human fingers that''d speared the ground retracted. My change reversed slowly. Getting to my feet, I heard the flutter of wings that aided his descent from the bough that was his perch. As the amber light of transformation had just about dimmed in my eyes, I glimpsed his black form in the shadow of the fat tree trunk. He didn''t pause or hide, he stepped out into the moonlight of the clearing on three clawed toes and scaled, black calves fringed by feathers before they disappeared beneath a coal-coloured kimono. With each step he took, his own anthropomorphism came undone. Soon, he stood on bare human feet, only a few feet from me, his eyes never leaving my own. Unceremoniously, he unfastened the Tasuki, keeping the sleeves of his kimono free of his wings, while the last of his inky feathers fluttered away, leaving his pale arms bare.


    "You didn''t mean for me to hear your sadness," said Hayashi Kage, calm as ever.


    "How much of my ''sadness'' did you hear?"


    "All of it." He admitted readily. Hayashi was not a liar like I was. "From her weeping to yours."


    I shuddered, eyes cast to the ground. I felt sick to my stomach that someone else knew the extent of my shame. The sensation of complete patheticness crushed my chest, choking me of breath and words.


    "Cry some more if you want..." He allowed, sounding apathetic. But Hayashi was never so. No, he oozed compassion and empathy. Calm and unmoving as a cliff face to a storm, it would take many a great wave of my salty tears to corrode his stoic facade.


    That night was the first of many times that I cried in front of him.

 CALM CROW | PART FIVE

    Coming to was never a pleasant affair. My body felt heavy and woozy, and my head was like a lead weight. Inside my mouth, there was a familiar, stale, and detestable aftertaste of beer. All signs pointed to a hangover.


    Beneath my cheek, the stiff and scratchy cotton smelled of bleach; it made my nose wrinkle. A number of things happened when I moved to sit up; first, the sheet slipped away from the rubber-coated mattress, and the frame creaked beneath my weight. The bed was much too small for the likes of me. Second, my stomach burbled, and meady bile rose up my throat. Jerking forward, I heard the inevitable splatter of vomit hitting the hard floor.


    "Ngh, fuck... I''m too old for this shit." I groaned, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand.


    "Heh..."


    The quiet chuckle was jarring. My eyes quickly found its source; Hayashi sat next to the bed I was in.


    "Where are we? And what are you doing here?" I croaked.


    "The infirmary. I''m the one who carried you here."


    "That''s impossible," I scoffed, eyeing his lithe and elegant frame. "I''m over two hundred pounds."


    "Two-twenty, I would wager."


    I couldn''t reconcile the physics of it; imagining him carrying me was almost comical. I must have had an incredulous look about me because his feathery black brows furrowed as he stood up from his chair. He took a brief glance at the pool of vomit at his feet before striding over it.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    "You underestimate me. Quite bold for someone who spent the night drinking himself into a stupor while crying like a child..." He shook his head, "and then, you almost puke on my feet. Rude."


    "I... I''m sorry."


    "It''s fine. You''re not the first hulk of muscle to assume they''re stronger than me." A smirk pulled up the corner of his lips as his dark eyes panned down my body, making me feel suddenly self-conscious.


    My gaze naturally followed his when it settled.


    "What The Fuck!" Wide-eyed, I clutched my hands to my groin, but it was too late to salvage any of my dignity. I was sat there stark naked! "Where the fuck are my clothes?"


    He started to chuckle again, which only deepened my embarrassment.


    "Calm down, Scott." He hushed and passed me a pile of neatly folded clothes. "You stripped off, explaining that you like to sleep nude. I didn''t want to wrestle a drunk person, so I let you."


    "Ri-ight. Thanks." I forced a toothless smile. Hopping down off the bed and being careful to dodge the mess I''d made, I started by pulling on my underwear and jeans. "And uh, it''s Nate. My name... It''s Nate."


    "I know." Hayashi nodded, smiling at me from over his shoulder. He was standing before the room''s sink with the faucet running.


    "You can call me Nate if you want." I shrugged on my shirt and started fastening the buttons.


    He rang out a washcloth and, walking back to me, smiled softly again, "Are we so familiar that we''re on first-name terms?"


    "I mean, I hate to bring it up, but I was naked about two seconds ago, so I''d say so, yeah?"


    Silently, he handed me the damp cloth, then turned away and walked to the door. The washcloth warmed my hand, yet his cold shoulder made me shiver.


    "We''ll see."


    A tight feeling crushed my chest; his words left me feeling rejected. Though it was no wonder he didn''t want to be my friend; I''d embarrassed myself over and over while in his company. At the time, I thought he probably thought I was a pathetic mess, and he wouldn''t have been wrong. I was left thinking I shouldn''t have confused his kindness for friendliness in the first place.

 WOODCUTTER | PART SIX

    ''Thwack. Crack. Thwack. Crack.'' Wood creaked and splintered, hewn by my axe. Each swing and fall of the blade released some of my inner tension, allowing me to vent my rage into useful work.


    An afternoon had waned. The last of the day''s sunlight flickered through the canopy, embracing the woodland before it sunk behind the horizon and left our hemisphere to sleep. With the days getting shorter, my favourite time of day came earlier and earlier. Moonrise was near. Tonight, the Goddess would be laid on her back; I hoped that seeing her in such a relaxed mood would bring about solace in me. I''d chop wood until I could bathe in her glade.


    Though I''d been lost to time, it had hardly been wasted; I''d cleaved many a log, and the pile of firewood leant against the stump had stacked up, heaved, and fallen into a mess. I didn''t care to stop and tidy my haul. I was busy; the rhythm of the work soothed me and warmed the river that ran down my back and chest.


    My axe was aloft when I caught a scent only moments before its owner spoke.


    "I''d say you''ve got about a month''s worth of firewood there, Nate," my brother''s familiar voice goaded. "But who are you chopping it for, huh?"


    "The wood store was almost empty." I huffed, catching my breath as I lowered my axe to rest.


    "You don''t need to worry about Alis or her wood store anymore, brother. She''s being taken care of... Better than ever."


    I knew what he meant; it caused my lip to twitch, threatening to curl back in a show of teeth. I held the axe shaft tighter, my hot palm squeaking against the varnish to sate the rage bubbling under the surface. All the hours of therapy chopping wood had brought went to waste the minute he''d mentioned my Wife.


    "But you keep coming back to the village, so I''m not convinced you''ve got the message that you''re not welcome through that thick skull of yours yet."


    He always was a cocky one, but all smoke and no fire.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    "You gonna teach me a lesson, Aiden?" I scoffed. Pound for pound, he was no match for me. He might''ve had an inch or two on me in height, but he was always the weaker pup despite being two years my senior.


    "Yes." He nodded. "We are."


    I only caught a glimpse of the wicked smirk that spread across his face before I was on my knees, grounded by a simultaneous skull-splintering blow to the back of my head and a gut punch. Doubled over, my knees quickly buckled under a boot. I found my eyes level with the stump. I saw red when the blade that I''d embedded into it rose inch by inch before my face, instantly imagining it was for my neck. Fortunately, perhaps, only the shaft descended to bar my throat and choke me.


    "Get the silver down him before he turns, Gus." One barked to the other. "If he shifts, we''re fucked."


    Knowing my brother''s posse, there were four heavies, and the weedy, masochistic Smithe twins would watch. The Colloidal silver was probably their idea. It would poison me enough to disarm my wolf, a cowardly way to defeat me, to say the least.


    Ducking out of their hold, I grabbed the stump for purchase and pushed back to fling off my two current opponents. There was no telling where the others were. This part of the wood was always so drenched in Lycan scent that my nose was useless; trying to track them was pointless.


    ''Thunk!'' The butt of the axe blade hammered into the back of my head, blurring my vision. Wetness soaked my head, trickled down my forehead, and dripped off the end of my nose. Gathering my knees under me to crawl away was futile; it gave them room to boot me. ''Kick'' and another ''Kick'' and another... Each blow caused me to cough up onto the leaf litter.


    Clawing into the earth beneath me, I anchored myself and pushed up again. They wouldn''t, couldn''t keep me down - not two of them in human form. The muscles in my arms tightened and rippled, imbuing me with the strength to force them off my back and rise.


    "Argh," I groaned, venting rage. My back arched, my arms struck outward, throwing back those that had clambered to pin me down. Their weight crushed my shoulders but fed my will to rise. The sound that roared up from my chest deepened and grew in my body until I let a ferocious growl rip from my chest. My lips peeled away from my growing muzzle, revealing two gnashing rows of deadly teeth. "Grr..." My growl cracked like crumbling glacial ice; an avalanche of rage was about to come to Aiden - he knew it when my glowing amber eyes met his.


    "Fuck!" Aiden barked, fear-stricken. "The silver! Give him the fucking silver!"


    "Do it now!" Yelled a panicked voice behind me.


    "He''s turning!"


    If I could keep them panicked, flustered, and floundering, I stood a chance at getting away.

 BACKSTABBER | PART SEVEN

    My wolf was ready to rip its way out of my skin; it wouldn''t take many moments more for my transformation to take hold. On my feet, I towered up and flexed my clawed toes into the ground, ready to sprint in Aiden''s direction, pounce and throw him to the ground. The thought of his neck between my jaws, his blood soaking my tongue, fuelled me.


    A body wrangled mine, clinging to me to bring me down. ''Kick'' Another boot met the back of my knee, taking my feet from under me again. Despite their weight, I rose back up. The hands and fists that met my torso did nothing against me now that rage, adrenaline, and the sheer power of my wolf flowed through me. Buff-coloured and coarse hair on the back of my neck spiked and ran my spine right to the tip of my tail ¨C my heckles quivered as I roared another growl that shook the wood. Birds took flight at the sound, every prey animal bolted from my vicinity, and my brother''s panic took hold.


    The Goddess''s silvery beams glittered over my fully-fledged coat as I, now a seven-and-a-half-foot mass of fur, fang, and muscle, stalked toward my brother. His wolf attempted to free itself of his human skin. Time was not in his favour; my speed was formidable and beat that of his transformation. With his throat in my grasp, I hoisted him from the ground. How his blood seeped onto my black claws as they gouged into his throat, and the metallic scent of it thrilled me.


    "Just because..." He choked, "- You look like..." He panted, "- An Alpha... Doesn''t mean..." He strained a smirk. "- They''ll follow you."


    His words meant nothing. If he was dead, there was no one to take me on. If he was dead, he couldn''t have my Wife. If his posse intervened now, his honour was on the line. Aiden''s pride guaranteed they''d hold back. Or so I thought...


    ''Jab.'' A blade burrowed into my left side. ''Slice.'' Aiden tugged it through my flesh, toward my front. That was enough to loosen my hold on his neck; he stumbled to his feet and rose fully in wolf form.


    Hunching and clutching my bloody side, I couldn''t fathom why I wasn''t healing.


    "Ha! I''d lick your blood from this blade if the silver wouldn''t poison me, brother." He cackled wickedly, the moonlight glinting off of his sharp fangs.


    That''s why I wasn''t healing... Though my head felt light and woozy, I swiped out my claws, but he dodged them. Though I flung my whole weight at him, gnashing my teeth nearer and nearer to his throat, I never got a bite.


    ''Stab, stab.'' His blade hollowed my strength.


    "Give me the vile Gus," Aiden demanded, slinking my withering form off him. "Hold him, boys."Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    They''d all had a chance to turn now, and four hulking Lycan against one wounded was devastatingly unfair. My chances dwindled by the second. Any attempts I made to get to my feet were in vain; I''d gain footing only to lose it when the pain that darted through my abdomen winded me ¨C the muscles there, torn asunder, failed, sapping my strength as the pressure of my fight caused me to bleed out faster. I tumbled to my knees and resigned to clawing at the ground to drag myself away, but they descended upon me mercilessly.


    Grappled, their hold on me held firm. Still, I writhed, thrashing this way and that. Snarling and gnashing my fangs, hoping I''d snag one of them. Gus took hold of my left ear; someone else took my right and yanked my head back. I thought Aiden might cut my throat, but he didn''t plan to be so kind as to kill me. He would take more pleasure in elongating my suffering.


    When, with a malevolent grin, he thrust the shaft of the axe between my bite, my fate occurred to me. I growled in defiance, my amber eyes glowing wide and wild. Hot air huffed out my nose, flaring my nostrils. Now, I was the one panicking. The wooden shaft splintered under my fangs, but not enough to snap it. Clutching his claws into my jaw, he guided my head so that he could glare down into my eyes as he delivered the poison. The deadly liquid trickled over both my teeth and the axe and beyond to lace over my tongue.


    "You bastard!" I growled, barely audibly, but he realised my sentiment.


    "Hear that boys? I''m a bastard." He gloated. "Least I''m not a dirty cocksucker."


    They erupted in raucous laughter as the silver did it work. My wolf slipped away, sinking back within. Now a withered skin sack, I collapsed to the ground, completely disarmed. The five Lycan encircled me, beholding the spectacle of my defeat.


    "I''d fuck you with your own axe, but you''d moan like a bitch in heat."


    "Chop his cock off, Aiden. Bitches only need a hole." Gus jeered, yanking and lifting what was left of my tail to expose me.


    "Make him whimper like the pathetic runt he is."


    "Dirty faggot!"


    They took infinite pleasure in humiliating me, each taking a turn to degrade me, and I was helpless to stop them now that the silver''s burn coursed through me. The agony was paralysing. My limbs felt limp; I couldn''t even hold up my head, though Aiden did that for me until he dropped me like a sack of shit onto the floor.


    ''Kick, kick, kick'', hefty hind paws pummelled into my stomach, building in clout. Someone grabbed my neck, hoisting up my head, only to deliver a blow to my cheek that sent me flying back onto the floor. Another crushed the head of the axe down onto my shin; the moist, bone splintering crackle almost as loud as the yowl I left out...


    "Ngh," I groaned. "Ah, Ai- Aiden... Why?" I whined.


    "Because you''re disgusting." Aiden hissed, hacked, and spat thick mucus onto my face. "You never deserved Alis. She deserves a real man."


    At the mention of my sweet and beautiful Alison, I writhed, desperate to get up. I didn''t care to beat him, though he deserved to be taught a lesson. I just needed to protect Alis from him - my brother, a vile, misogynistic monster meant to take her... defile her... put his pups in her over and over and over... He continued to spew his insidious plans; all the while, my beating continued.


    Before they left me a beaten and bloody mess on the woodland floor, he scraped his claws over my chest, slow and deep, to scar me, to mark me. I wouldn''t heal under the influence of the silver. He bit down into my shoulder, asserting his dominance. With that mark of defeat on me, he usurped my title; now he was Alpha.

 SILVER FEVER | PART EIGHT

    Succumbing to the darkness was the easiest way out, but I didn''t want to go out like a coward.


    A pulse pounded through my skull, causing the space behind my eyes to ache relentlessly. That ache was only the beginning of my torment, though. I''d coiled around the root of my agony. Curled up like a babe on the forest floor, too weak to even whimper, the silver worked through my whole body. It churned like molten lava in the pit of my stomach, oozing down deeper and deeper, licks of hot flames lashed down my thighs and up into my chest. Even if the silver fever hadn''t paralysed me, I couldn''t have pulled myself up out of the bloody sludge I''d been abandoned in; my leg was broken, but that was the last pain that occurred to me.


    I took one last look at the moonlight trickling through the trees before the darkness took me.


    Muttering voices, two or maybe three, I wasn''t sure. My heart jolted. Were they back? Were they going to kill me this time? Relief overtook any fear in me, I''d already prayed for the end...


    Between the nighttime hum of the woods, a voice sang a sweet tune; it came closer and closer. It was a pity that her song ended abruptly. It was lulling me toward the sleep I''d longed for...


    A flickering light lit up the back of my eyelids in a blood-orange hue; it was bright and uncomfortable, like looking directly at the sun. I flinched away, only to wince at the pain that shot through my head...


    Hammering footfalls shook the ground around me. There was a burst of muffled chatter, deep, anguished voices in serious discussion.


    A few tranquil words whispered into my ear, and then silence returned. I felt lighter than air, my limbs fluid and floating. I recall thinking that this must be what dying feels like. At last...Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    "He''s been out for four days," a monotone masculine voice commented. Pages fluttered, and the scratching of a pen over thin paper, a signature perhaps. "There has been no improvement in his condition yet. Nothing''s healing because of the silver poisoning. He''s on an IV, which may help, but I''m not certain. I''m not a Lupine specialist."


    "Tsk. So, it has to run its course?" A familiar voice asked; it was the boss, Mr. Howard.


    "I''m afraid so, Sir."


    "Let me know as soon as he regains consciousness; I need to speak to him. Once he''s well enough, allow his visitors in."


    "Uh... He hasn''t had any visitors, Sir."


    I didn''t expect anyone to come and comfort me, but the confirmation that no one had even attempted to cut deep. The people and the pack that I had served and held close had truly abandoned me. Lone wolves never lived long. Perhaps it was for the best.


    The hollow feeling of hopelessness swelled up in my chest and settled as a lump in my throat.


    The nurse changing my bandages was the one who noticed I was coming around; I was crying in my sleep. She fetched the doctor, who fetched the boss, and there was a lot of talking. Talking, I barely had the energy to listen to; I was just so tired.


    Four days of sleeping became four days awake, but I hadn''t moved from the infirmary bed. The days were dull and empty. Many hours ticked by listening to the clock. The book and dinner tray remained on the table untouched.


    The nights were the worst; when my body relaxed, the pain and silver sweats took hold of me. It felt like I was boiling on the inside and melting into the mattress; how it held the heat unescapably to my back caused me to seethe. And there was no end to the screaming. I could hear myself and internally winced, but there was no stopping it. It was the only way to vent to agony.


    The doctor was helpless but not hopeless. As he strapped me into the bed restraints so that my writhing didn''t further injure me, he promised it would end and that I should take comfort in that and use it to get through. One hour of pain was one hour less. My body was burning the silver off. Yet at 3 a.m. every night, when the fever was at its peak, I wished for death.

 HELPING HAND | PART NINE

    Kenichi held out the rucksack''s straps so I could weave my arms through and then hoisted my ops bag over my shoulder.


    "Are you sure this is everything?" His brow crooked as he peered into the empty locker in disbelief that I''d packed all my earthly possessions into a daysack, ops bag, and one ten-litre crate.


    "Yeah, that''s it." I knew it wasn''t much, but there was no point making a fuss. I grabbed my crutch and hobbled toward the door. "Mind bringing that crate?"


    "You got it." Kenichi nodded and took one last look at the bunk room I was leaving behind. I wasn''t so sentimental about it.


    The silence between us was awkward. It was hardly his fault, though; the poor kid probably didn''t know what to say. I wouldn''t have been rude enough to shut him up had he started talking about the obvious, but I didn''t really want to talk about the state of affairs. My shuffling footstep and the clank of the crutch every time it hit the floor with my weight propped into it were just reminders of how far I''d fallen. Any structure and security my life had had was gone. I wasn''t worthy of the mentor status that Kenichi granted me. Especially not if you took the tangled thicket of rumours weaving around the Compound about me as gospel.


    At the end, the corridor came to a T-junction. As Kenichi and I neared, a floating swathe of black hair passed at speed. Craning their neck around the corner, the blur became clearer, and the long strands settled onto the shoulders of the person when their hurry suddenly halted.


    "Ah, Gomen na''," he muttered, having been caught off guard. Walking toward me with purpose, he reaffirmed, "Sorry," in English and bobbed his head in a small, polite bow when he stopped before me. "I''m late."


    "Late for wh-"


    "Oh, er, when you said you were moving out, I thought there''d be more stuff to pack up and haul." Kenichi scratched the back of his neck. "So I asked Senpai to help out..."


    "Right. Well... this is all there is, so..." I forced a closed-lipped smile. "You know what? I can manage the crate, so you ca-"If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Without a word, Hayashi relieved Kenichi and the crate he''d been carrying for me. The two had a short conversation, which I assumed was in Japanese, before Kenichi made an excuse and left, waving goodbye as he disappeared around the corner. "Good luck with the move, Nate."


    The exchange happened so quickly, and I just stood there like a gawking bystander, bewildered by what was happening. All I knew for sure was that now I was alone with a man that I wasn''t sure how to behave around. He stood quietly, maybe expecting me to make the first move. When my anxiety would only allow me to make a sheepish, closed-lipped smile, he smiled back toothily with a warmth to his eyes that I''d never noticed before.


    "You have your hair down today,"


    His smile widened, and plumped up his cheeks. "You like my hair down?"


    Snatching my eyes away from him, I could feel heat in my cheeks. The urge to escape suddenly spurred me onward, but I''d forgotten about my crutch in my haste. Against my forearm, his hand felt soft and warm when he caught me mid-stumble. He didn''t say anything, no words of comfort, no joke to defuse my awkwardness; he just smiled again, reassuringly, his thumb slowly stroking over my skin before he took his hand from me completely.


    "We... We should get going."


    On our way, I led him from the Guard Barracks and onto the woodland path. While going past the Tavern, I made a plan to go for a beer or three after unpacking my things.


    The trickling water of the brook and the background chorus of birdsong filled the silence, yet it was still starting to become stifling now that I''d gotten a hold of myself. I glanced over my shoulder every now and then as if to check that Hayashi was still there. I always found him looking around, always looking at peace.


    The damp earth turned to cobbles beneath our feet, and then we crossed the bridge toward the West Gate''s delivery depo. I knew that was where he worked, but just as I was about to strike up a conversation, he cut me off and said,


    "Kenichi never mentioned where you are moving to."


    "Uh, the De''en Charm has offered me a bed at their nest..."


    "Hai, the Fae girl. The one who found you."


    "Yeah, the tiny pink-haired one... Juniper, I think''s her name..." My head snapped in his direction. "Wait! How do you know that?"


    "She told Kenichi where she found you first, then ran off to tell Apollo. Apollo and I carried you to the infirmary." He explained in that tranquil and deadpan fashion that I was starting to resent.


    So he''d witness exactly what had become of me, after what they''d done to me. Shame hollowed me. My chest ached, and my brow furrowed. And all I had were questions...


    Why did Juniper tell Kenichi? Why was Hayashi always there to witness my worst moments? Why did he always look so unmoved? Couldn''t he pity me just a little? Was he a sociopath, incapable of empathy? Why didn''t he care? Why did I want him to care?

 BITE THE HAND | PART TEN

    It was as if I could feel every emotion at the same time. Yet, as was my fatal flaw, I found anger not far from the surface. Convinced that no one would listen to me, even if I allowed my endless steam of confusion to pour out, I bottled it up. Instead of the comfort I craved, I found only poisonous self-deprecation inside my mind.


    As a child, I''d been a pent-up pup, broiling with rage. My temper tantrums only deepened the rift between myself and my mom, who favoured my brother over me. Predictably, my adolescence was turbulent and made worse by the fact that I knew I was different from my peers. I could''ve cared less about chasing skirt... Until Alison... Her kindness and patience were the chances I''d needed. My children gave me a reason to mellow my rage and soften the shell I''d amassed around my heart. They made my dream of normalcy real, but now that dream had left me behind.


    Now, overwrought by the aftermath of the burning wreckage my life had become, I was confronted by a man who had been an audience to it all - a stranger, an unfriend. But he was the only one paying attention, which added insult to injury; it made me bitter.


    I don''t know whether it was my extended silence or the dark and distant look in my eyes that made Hayashi reach out his hand to me, but when he did, I winced.


    "Don''t." I snarled. "Don''t touch me." My lying mind told me he was the last person I wanted putting their hands on me.


    "Nate..." Hayashi whispered; his voice was tentative, hushed and balmy as ever it was.


    "Don''t call me that." I snivelled. "We''re not on first-name terms, remember?"


    He flinched, startled by my outburst, but I didn''t stick around to talk it out like grown-ups. I bolted. The red mist had descended, and under it, I''d stormed off, desperate to get away from him.


    How I got to the De''en Charm''s nest was a complete blur. When I arrived, my interaction with Lowel De''en was brisk. Unlike myself, I was rude to my host. I didn''t even thank him for the room he''d fashioned for me in his home.


    With no reason to get out of bed in the morning, I often didn''t until the afternoon. When I reluctantly rose, I''d leave the nest in favour of being alone, having convinced myself it was better for everyone if I kept to myself. Into the woods, I''d go. Stumbling around for hours on end. There was nowhere to escape to; the Compound wall penned me in. So, as a caged dog often does when driven to boredom, I''d aimlessly track whatever wildlife had wandered through the undergrowth before me, round and round in a trance.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    Lately, I seem to be trapped in a vicious circle of negative feelings. Anger turned into sadness, hopelessness into self-pity, which transcended to irritability and rudeness. How I''d lost a handle on everything was so shamefully pathetic. Thinking of the old days, how I used to be, and how sweet happiness felt, I''d sit and cry a little. Then, I''d loathe myself and be back to square one, angry and thrashing about the woodland.


    My crutch was a thorn in my side and a constant reminder that I might never walk unaided again; my tibia was cracked, and my fibula had splintered in several places. The silver, my unwelcome guest, still lingered and wouldn''t allow me to heal as a Lycan ought; I was trapped in the enduring phases of mortal healing.


    The full moon was only a few nights away, and where my blood would usually begin to warm up in preparation for the turn, this month, I felt no excitement or anticipation about being under the Goddess''s rays. It would mark one month since that harrowing night. For the first time in my life, I dreaded the thought of seeing the moon.


    And as I''d find out, my fear was well placed...


    ***


    Bedbound, I''d been watching the storm clouds roll in over the treeline from my room. Beyond the threshold of wizzen elm saplings, I could see through the warehouse''s corrugated sliding doors and out into the wood. There would be rain tonight if not thunder. I lay waiting for it; if I couldn''t take to the woods and get my fur wet, I at least wanted to watch the sky light up from my bed.


    My ears pricked when a low rumble disturbed the quiet of the afternoon before a drop of water had fallen to the ground. It was a voice, and it asked: "How is he?"


    "Not good," Juniper answered; her lilting soprano had become familiar to me. "The night of the full moon did a real number on him; he hasn''t been able to get up since." The piteous tone her voice took on stung. I didn''t want to listen to it but the nest''s walls were quite literally paper-thin. Made of plant life and Fae magic. The nest''s sleeping cacoons, like the one I laid in, defied gravity, how they hung up in the rafters, stretching outward from the alternative quarters'' mezzanine like the nests of little harvest mice. It was a wonder they withstood my size and weight.


    "Ah, Hayashi, you''re early. Is Kenichi joining us, too?"


    Lowel confirmed who I thought the guest was, and so I tugged my pillow from behind me and wrapped it around my head. It was only the delicious scents of dinner that wafted up from the kitchen some hours later that caused me to peep out from my hiding place. My stomach grumbled; I hadn''t eaten yet that day. The breakfast and lunch that had been brought to me sat untouched on the table next to my bed. The smell of baked sweet potatoes had me licking my lips, though, and hanging on the promise that June would bring me some supper.


    The conversation I happened to hear quickly dampened my mood.


    "He''s as prickly as a Hawthorne bush these days." Lowel chuckled.


    "It''s nothing to laugh about, Da''." June defended. "He is starting to stink the nest up, though... The ol'' dog could use a bath. And the beard on him! It''s a sight to behold..."


    That was the last I heard before I buried my head into the pillow again, and now I couldn''t stomach any of her false sweetness or her potatoes.

 ABSENT SMILES | PART ELEVEN

    By warm candlelight and in friendly company, the illusion that our world was cold and unforgiving was just that. There was no absence of smiles and laughter around the dinner table. Still, someone was missing, and I could not get the picture of him alone in his room out of my mind.


    The De''en Fae had served a delicious meal. There were never enough side dishes, but it was a small sacrifice. Juniper and Aster made the most of the ingredients I procured. Our covert location meant meat was in short supply, but that night, the pork was cooked to perfection. It was a pity I had no appetite. My distraction took sweetness from the meat and made the wine bitter. Out of politeness, I ate, but not enough to divert suspicions that my mood was sour.


    "You haven''t eaten much." Kenichi''s hand fell onto my shoulder as he passed behind my chair. He and several others had planned a walk to the Tavern to finish the night with cheerful music. I was not in the mood to enjoy anything other than quiet.


    "I am tired," I explained, excusing myself before an invitation to join was offered. My eyes already felt heavy, with a dull ache forming behind them... but it could have been Lowel''s elderberry wine.


    The last dishes were put away, the table cleaned, and the chairs returned to order. I licked my fingertips to snuff the candles and then closed my eyes and submitted to the darkness. Silence crept over the Charm''s home with the greater distance between them. Soon, the wood consumed their chatter, and with it, overstimulation vanished. I breathed deep and exhaled slowly, swaying my head east and west to ease my aching neck. I had one more thing to accomplish before I could rest peacefully.


    With a full plate warming one hand and a glass of water cooling the other, I had tucked the tepid bottle of wine under my arm on my way up the steel stairs. The mezzanine''s scaffold railings gave way to walkways constructed of dead wood and creeping vines; they were deceiving in their sturdiness.


    "Knock, knock," I announced my arrival, lifting the half-drawn linen hanging over the doorhole as I ducked inside.


    The lonely wolf clung fervently to the pillow before his chest and sunk down into the mess of blankets he lay in. The chance he could make himself small enough to go unnoticed in such a confined space was improbable. The message that he craved no company was clear. Though he may have kept his eyes from me, the scent that rolled off of him was inescapable. His thick lupine musk dried my throat and clung to the moss-lined walls of the nest room he inhabited. I coughed, which instantly earned his attention; his head pivoted toward me.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "Do I smell that bad?"


    "You have a distinct odour," I nodded, clearing my throat of it completely. Kneeling at the tray table by his bed, I placed both his breakfast and lunch plates to set down his dinner. I offered the water but kept back the wine for now.


    Tapping my finger off the crystal lamp to see him better, its dull glow brightened at my command. He squinted and grunted, disgruntled that I had disturbed the darkness. Grease slicked the roots of his unkempt mop of golden hair, and the length of his bushy beard was not exaggerated by his hosts.


    "You haven''t been eating. June mentioned you don''t do much of anything... Even bathing."


    "Why do you care?" He snapped and snatched the water from my hand. His rudeness was unnecessary, and I had grown tired of his childish sulking. I took his chin and turned his mouth from the glass, sending water down the tangle of his beard and onto my hand, but I got the complete attention of his eyes. His annoyance at my harsh gesture caused them to flicker, flaming amber. The fire of his Lycanthropic was still alive even if his disposition neared dead.


    "I don''t." I meant for my tone to be blunt; I wouldn''t flatter him with lies.


    "I''m not scared of you." The growl in his words stirred me, but not fearfully. I was neither as frightened of him as he was of me, and neither did I want him to be. That was the last thing I desired.


    "Stop making a fool of yourself." I strived not to roll my eyes as I stood.


    I hit a nerve, and his reaction was instantaneous. He coiled his fingers around my wrist and withdrew my hand from his face. Oddly, his manner was not aggressive but the pressure he held me with was unwavering. His touch was intimate in that his thumb stretched up into my palm.


    Even in human form, he towered over me when he stood, but even in the face of such a formidable, muscular body, there was nothing to fear, not in the helpless state he resigned himself to.


    "You think I''m a fool, huh? Try my life on for size, and then tell me how foolish I am."


    I craned my neck to stare up at him, and his eyes pleaded that I not think so little of him.


    The mess of blankets he''d had strewn over his body fell to our feet. The moment he realised his nakedness, his shoulders sunk, and he sighed, exasperated. "Fuck it... Look, I''ve lost everything, and I- ... I keep making an ass of myself."


    "I don''t care. You have people who do care, though - more than you know - and for their sake... you should bathe." My eyes panned down his body slowly. Mostly, I noticed the deep, ruddy claw marks scaring his chest, but also the amount of hair that coated it and trailed off down the centre of his torso to flare out over his stomach and pelvis. "If you don''t, mushrooms are going to grow in all of this foliage," I muttered distractedly. I''d never touched someone covered in so much hair; I was curious what it would feel like to run my fingers through it. For once, I wouldn''t give in to my urges so easily; I didn''t want to disturb him with my proclivities.


    "Ha-ha."


    The sound of happiness, no matter how brief or shallow, fluttered from his chest. His laughter was such a handsome sound. I looked up just in time to see a smile burst across his face as he chuckled at my idle joke. That was all I had wanted. It perfected my evening.

 MORE THAN WORDS | PART TWELVE

    Before Hayashi left that night, he insisted I eat the supper he''d brought to me and watched my every mouthful. Then, unceremoniously, he collected all the plates, even those with my untouched meals still on them, along with cups, glasses, and cutlery, and left my room.


    Downstairs, I heard the prescribed audio of washing dishes: the tinkle of the first water from the faucet hitting the steel sink basin and the gradual deepening sploshes as the suds foamed. Every so often, I heard the clinking of dishes as they were set onto the draining rack. Amidst his domestic undertaking, he hummed a tune; the low and calm rumble of his voice helped me settle back into bed.


    The first roll of thunder roused me. I don''t know how long I''d been asleep, but since the moon had barely moved in the sky, I wondered if Hayashi had made it home before the rain came.


    From then on, Hayashi and Kenichi would come to the nest for dinner every night.


    On the third night, they brought a chicken for everyone to share, and while it roasted, I sat with my legs hung over the side of the mezzanine, watching life play out below.


    The four youngest children played some variation on a game of T.A.G. while Juniper, Aster, Kenichi, and Alder played cards at the kitchen table. The eldest boy, Calix, sat in the lounge with an old acoustic guitar, and Hayashi sat opposite him, providing a lesson. The instrument was passed back and forth; Hayashi would demonstrate a chord pattern, and then Calix would attempt to mimic it. Sometimes, Hayashi would reposition the boy''s fingers over the strings and frets until his rendition neared perfection.


    The music, the laughter, and the cheerful calls of the children made me smile bittersweetly. I remembered how Eli and Lottie used to play together as little ones before Benji was born. The thought that I might never get to witness my baby girl, Emma, playing such games had me wiping stray tears from my cheek. Thank goodness that Kenichi''s defeated wail interrupted my train of thought. He''d lost his fourth game of cards and was displeased. The twenty-five-year-old had patience nearer to that of a five-year-old; it was no wonder he threw down his cards and gave up. He stomped over to the lounge to cheer on Calix instead.


    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.After the boy had finished his song, he offered the guitar to Hayashi, and then a new game began, trying to convince him to play for them. Everyone joined in the coaxing.


    "No, no. After dinner," he insisted, holding his hands up and surrendering the instrument back to Calix.


    "Come on now, just a little tune." Calix pushed and looked to his father for support. "Da'' tell him to play for us."


    "He''ll play when he wants''ta. Let the poor man be, Cal''."  Lowel chuckled.


    "Bah, come on, June. Tell him, won''t ya?" He turned to his sister, who was checking the oven.


    "There''s time before dinner..." Juniper smiled sweetly. "Play for us, ''Yashi, we''d love it."


    I''d forgotten my own presence watching the scene below, but then his eyes found mine. It felt intimate, like a character from a T.V. show had noticed me through the glass. I smiled in encouragement, though I felt almost sure that he''d meant to give into them after his modesty ran out.


    "Okay. Okay. I will play." He nodded and took the neck of the guitar into his hand. Once it was cradled in his lap, he paused a moment in thought, no doubt thinking of a song to play for us.


    It barely took four chords to play before I knew the song. It was such a well-known piece and instantly set a certain kind of mood. Written for an acoustic guitar and ideally without accompaniment, just like tonight''s setting, it was a perfect choice. He strummed the tender love song into life, tapping the beat off the guitar''s body and setting a rhythm by which he bobbed his head. His silky hair swayed down one side of his face; the ambient glow of candlelight was caught by the black curtain and reflected back into his face, highlighting his cheekbones, the smooth length of his nose and deep almond-shaped eyes. All the while, he modestly kept his eyes from his audience, but it was a blessing that Kenichi jumped in to encourage him to sing before the intro had played out. The humble smile he shot the young demon-kin inspired everyone to start applauding and cheering in encouragement, too. Despite shaking his head, he continued playing, repeating the intro as if he were considering singing to us. He glanced upward and found my eyes were already transfixed on him; they had been since he''d started playing. I don''t know if my smile or applause convinced him, but I was eager to hear his voice, and this was the lightest my mood had been in months.


    About to sing, his chest swelled when he drew breath. For the first few words, his eyes remained on mine...


    "Saying I love you is not the words I want to hear from you-"


    ... And I couldn''t have anticipated how instantly it would move me.

 FIRST STEP | CHAPTER THIRTEEN

    My entrancement lasted for the four minutes Hayashi serenaded the De''en nest. I was captivated by the movement of his nimble fingers. My eyes wandered back to his face, often, more often than I''d admit. Mostly, I''d watch his lips move with the lyrics. The voice that came from them was stunning, and the lower key he''d chosen flaunted his voice''s deep, smooth timbre. This was the most I''d ever heard him say, and time stretched on and on. Yet, the moment the song ended, I removed myself and hobbled back to the privacy of my room. I was crying... again... The song resonated with me in a way I hadn''t imagined. Even though I knew the lyrics by heart, it hadn''t dawned on me that, in my current circumstance, they would become profoundly upsetting.


    Alison had needed me to compound my genuine affection for her by being intimate with her in the way a loving husband ought to, and I couldn''t. I''d been selfish. I''d failed her. My love had become nothing but shallow sentiment, and all my words became lies.


    Slumped against the mossy wall of my room, I wrapped my arms around myself in the futile hope that I might hold myself together and emotions at bay. I was tired of feeling so utterly miserable, tired of the ache that wouldn''t leave my chest, tired of my loneliness.


    When Hayashi brought up my dinner, as had become his habit, he watched me eat in a suffocating silence. The way his eyes burrowed into me so intensely made me keener to avoid his eyes, but the tension had just become something else to be tired of. Before I mustered the nerve to say something, he collected up my plate the second I set down my fork and stood before me with his hand impatiently waiting for me to drain the last of the water from my glass before he took that away and left.


    "Goodnight, then. Thanks for the food." I called out after his shadow.


    All the Fae found their beds and cosied up for the night. Alone, with my pulse thumping in my ears - a reminder that my biological clock was counting the seconds until I expired, I once again loitered in thoughts that the end couldn''t come soon enough. I threw myself back into my bedding and resigned to another restless night when the linen sash over the door shifted - moved, surprisingly, by Hayashi''s arm. My brow cocked curiously. First, I thought he''d left when I heard Kenichi say goodnight, and second, he carried a basin of steaming water in his other hand.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Coming to sit cross-legged before my bed, he set the bowl to one side and put a black canvas bag in the nest his legs made. Eye to eye, he stared at me while my eyes flickered slightly cautiously between him and the water, which felt silly -  It was only a bowl of water.


    "One step at a time." He stated.


    My expression was enough to question his motive. Did he want me to bathe myself with that small bowl of water?


    "It''s time you took the first step."


    Hayashi''s explanation was so vague that I still hadn''t caught on to his meaning.


    "You need to wash your face, and this needs attention." He stroked his own tidy stubble, alluding to the thicket growing on my chin.


    His intention was innocuous enough, so I obliged and reached behind my head to peel my shirt from my back. Undressed to my waist, I shuffled my butt over the floor, closer to the bowl and crouching over it; I gathered the hot water into my cupped hand and splashed it onto my face. Gently kneading my fingertips into my eyes and rubbing the water into my beard with one hand, I reached my other towards him with a simple request.


    "Did you bring any soap?"


    "Hei," He replied and rummaged a hand into the black canvas. Sure, he handed me a pale green bar of soap but didn''t stop unpacking. I paused to watch him. He undertook the task regimentally. First, placing down a washcloth, onto which he set a tin of shaving soap, a soap brush, a straight razor and a pair of trimming scissors. It didn''t stop there; then, there was a tube of some kind of lotion and a little brown bottle of an oily-looking substance.


    "I don''t usually go to all that trouble when I shave."


    "Grooming is an important aspect of care."


    He always had such eloquent and straightforward answers; my urge to grin couldn''t be contained, but just like when he''d begun playing earlier, how intensely his eyes met mine killed my spark of cheerfulness and caused me to swallow it whole in one great gulp. I hunched my shoulders; how his dark, smouldering eyes flickered down my body made me self-conscious. Naturally, I followed his eyes to where they''d settled. On the waistband of my pants, a patch of the fabric had darkened in colour because it was wet. Water had dripped from my chin, down my chest and settled in the cloth.


    "The water is getting cold." He prompted.

 A GOOD MAN | PART FOURTEEN

    Hunching over the tepid bowl of water, I wet my face again, lathering the soap between my hands before scrubbing away a month or more''s dirt from my skin. The balmy scents of almond milk and honey filled my nose and clung to my skin.


    Once, I''d rinsed, and while my eyes were still closed, I felt a towel pushed into my hand. "Thanks," I muttered and dried myself. Admiring the shaving set-up, I asked, "Did you bring a mirror?"


    Hayashi tapped his hand on the floor directly in front of him. "No. I have no mirror." When I didn''t immediately move, he insisted. "Come closer; I won''t be able to reach."


    "You''re serious?"


    Hayashi nodded and shrugged from the black knit cardigan he wore over an equally black, loose-fitting tank top, revealing his arms. They were tan and lithely muscular, and unlike mine, they were practically hairless. Such smoothness beckoned to be touched, but of course, I wouldn''t. I''d learned to look and not touch. Instead, I rubbed my fingertips into my own palm. It was rough, and worked and didn''t sate my urge. Trying to imagine the softness his skin might have, my mind betrayed me and landed on a memory of Alison. My jaw clenched unhappily, and my bottom lip almost quivered when a thought stung me; perhaps I''d never get to touch or be touched by someone ever again.


    I was jarred back to reality when Hayashi insisted: "Closer." He had a hair tie clenched between his teeth. Then, he lifted his arms to gather his long, silky black hair into a low, doubled-over ponytail. My eyes were drawn to the line his bicep made in the sculpture of his arm as, once again, I mindlessly shuffled closer.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    He was still dissatisfied with where I''d positioned myself, though, and he shook his head. Tucking his calves under his thighs, he closed the gap between us until his knees touched the crisscross of my shins. Closer still, his chest brisked my shoulder when he leant past me to drag the water basin nearer.


    Silently, I watched as he wet his brush and swirled the shaving soap into a foam with it. Any moment now, he was going to start, but instead, he paused, set down his tools, and stared, inspecting the beard he was about to contend with. Whenever he mumbled to himself, and he did so often, it was always in his native tongue. My questioning grunt had him repeat himself so that I could understand.


    "It needs cutting first."


    "Alright." I nodded and pulled the towel over my lap to catch the clippings.


    Picking up the scissors, he lightly took my chin and steered my head to the side. "How short?"


    "I don''t mind." I shrugged.


    "A clean shave then." With that, he began trimming away my hair as close to my skin as possible and muttered, "Like last summer."


    Side-eyeing him, curiosity furrowed my brow, but I didn''t dare ask why he remembered how I''d worn my beard last summer. It was an odd thing to recall about a stranger. Instead, I concentrated on his concentrating face.


    What was going through his mind? Why was he doing this? He''d made it clear that we weren''t friends. I couldn''t imagine a man like Hayashi wanting to be friends with someone like me anyway. He handled himself with such tact, such discipline. He was never clumsy. He never said too much. Every task he undertook, he did so with such meticulous elegance that it was impossible not to watch in awe. My mind prattled on and on, but I kept returning to the same ponderings: What was going through his mind? Why was he doing this?


    It dawned on me eventually. Hayashi was a good man. In his acts of service, he showed that he was kind-hearted, generous with his time and attention, and, most of all, a good man.

 A CLOSE SHAVE | PART FIFTEEN

    Lightly pinching his fingers and thumb about my chin, Hayashi turned my head this way and that, snipping away until he was satisfied. Then, he retired the scissors and lathered my face in soap. The stroking sensation of the fluffy, foamy brush was a pleasant sensation. I couldn''t recall another time in my adult life when I''d been handled with such care.


    I hadn''t given a moments thought to the blade as it neared my face. I trusted him, but not blindly; I''d witnessed his skills with a katana, amongst other weapons. My heart pounded for a different reason. I''d never let a man get this close to me before, not unless I was fighting. Of course, I wasn''t attracted to every man I met, but unnecessary proximity wasn''t worth the risk.


    Hayashi''s voice cut through my thoughts, scattering them like smoke.


    "Relax your jaw."


    And I tried... but he was so close I could practically feel his breath on my skin.


    "I won''t cut you."


    I knew that, but relaxing felt impossible when I was nervous he''d hear my heart pounding.


    "You have to relax, or I might."


    Blowing out a breath, I dropped my shoulders and closed my eyes, hoping that would help. It didn''t; I felt Hayashi move in closer. At my left side, his legs slightly straddled my knee. I didn''t dare move because he''d begun sliding the blade down my cheekbone.


    Instead of clenching my jaw, I tightened my stomach. Between each pass, he swished the blade into the water basin before continuing. It took him a few passes to completely remove my hair from each section of my face; my beard always grew dense and wiry. I must''ve swallowed hard when he lifted my chin to reach my neck.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "Don''t gulp." He scolded passively, stoking his finger over my adams apple.


    After he''d finished shaving my neck, he persuaded me to look at him directly and instructed me to stretch my lip so that he could clear my moustache. Every so often, he''d stroke his fingertip against a specific spot of my face, and although I knew he was just checking that he''d cut close enough, the intimacy of it had me tensing every muscle in my body.


    "There." He nodded in appraisal as he turned my face this way and that one last time. "You can relax now..."


    I sighed in relief, slumping my body, and watched him begin tidying up.


    "I don''t think a shave is meant to be such a workout. You flexed every muscle."


    My hands flew up to my face as I grumbled; I''d hoped he wouldn''t notice my anguish. My embarrassment was distracted by the pleasant surprise that my skin felt so smooth. "Wow, that feels great." I smiled up at him just as he was about to leave. "Uh, thanks for that, Hayashi."


    "You are welcome." He bowed his head, ducked under the linen, and left.


    For a minute or two, I sat listening to him wash out the basin in the kitchen. I anticipated hearing the corrugated steel doors sliding closed on their rails when he left. I''d just shimmed myself back into bed when I heard steel creak. But it was closer. It''d come from the stairs. Before I could react, Hayashi ducked back under the linen.


    "Forget something?"


    "Yes,"


    My eyes never left him as he walked toward me, pulling the tie from his hair so that his silken black mane unfurled onto his shoulders. The canvas bag met the floor next to my bedding pile when he joined me on it. Hyperaware of how he leaned his body toward me, I leant back away from him warily, propped up on my hands. I didn''t notice what he was doing with his hands. Not until his damp fingers met my cheek did I spot the tube of face cream abandoned on the sheets.


    Slowly, his thumb stroked over my cupid''s bow, harrowing close to my lips. I flinched, commanding him to, "Wait! I can do tha-" and grabbed his wrist. Unexpectedly, I''d ungrounded myself. With his wrist captured in my hand, I unwittingly brought him down with me, and we tumbled back against my bed together. My wide, frightened eyes met his. I could feel every inch of his torso pressed against mine.


    Hayashi held his hands up in surrender, saying, "Don''t panic; I''ve finished." That was all he said. Calmly, he removed his weight from me, collected his things, and left again.


    Alone, I flopped back into my sheets, sweating, panting, heart pounding, and dizzy. Gingerly, I placed my hand over my groin, and sure enough, I was as riled up as I''d feared.


    "Fuck."