“No, I don’t think so.” I paused, remembering in detail my night as it flashed through my mind. The thought once again crossed my mind, who could I trust? I needed to find out and quickly. “I was out with a boy-”

  “I knew it!” Simone cut in. “Give me that juicy gossip.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me along. Her bangles clanking against each other as they caught the sunlight overhead and flashed in my eyes, temporarily blinding me. Her perfume, the same scent she had been wearing for years, was a mix of jasmine, vanilla, and musk, and it permeated off her thicker than usual. It tickled my nose, and I had an urge to recoil and sneeze.

  “Simone, did you accidentally dump your perfume bottle on yourself this morning?” I asked as she dragged me to the nearest empty bench.

  She doused me with an evil stare as if to ask how dare I.

  “No; and stop deflecting. Who is this boy?” She leaned in closer and stared me in the eyes, and I pulled back, but not in time.

  I sneezed in her face, and all I could hear, other than the utter horror from Simone, was the laughter of Beth as we both stood there looking at each other in shock and guilt.

  “I only sprayed myself once!” Simone exclaimed after I blamed the sneeze on her perfume.

  “Yeah, one whole bottle.” I shrugged. I had already apologized, but Simone could be dramatic.

  “I need to go wash my face,” Simone theatrically announced to everyone around, which was just Beth and I, and then she stormed off as if in a tizzy to get cleaned up. I’d probably hear about it later.

  I had already ruled out Beth and Simone as risks this morning during my silent mulling in class. I had ignored the professor’s lecture, and instead of taking some much-needed notes, I chewed on my pencil while pondering this new existence of mine. I couldn’t believe it. They seemed loyal to me and actually cared, which wouldn’t be hard to do if they were watching me, but then why would they enter into the same premed program if they weren’t actually wanting to be in the medical field. It didn’t make sense that they were the enemy. Even if it was what I wanted to believe, I decided to hold onto that fact.

  “So, do you want to talk about it?” Beth asked slowly, cautiously sitting next to me. She touched my hair again, a knowing look in her eyes. “Did you change it to become someone new?”

  Beth understood things. She saw things about people, details that amazed me every day. You couldn’t hide things from her, and, in a way, she was too close to the truth for my comfort. Change I had, but not exactly by choice.

  “Yeah, something like that.” I laughed; delirium laced in the sound.

  “Sometimes, it helps to reinvent ourselves to move on. It’s good for you,” Beth said as she inspected me, the worry that usually creased her brow of late when she looked at me had softened. She thought I was better.

  I sat there thinking about it. In all the recent events, I hadn’t even realized my anxiety and constant fear and worry had decreased. Not that the scars weren’t there, they were, but now I felt I had more control and power. That if I ever were in that position again, or even if I found the douche who put me in it, I’d be able to take care of it without even a smidge of regret.

  “Yeah. You are right,” I admitted, turning toward Beth and the warmth in her eyes.

  Her eyes were a dark blue color, one that made you wonder if it was a real shade or contacts, but it was also warmer than most blues. You looked into her eyes and felt… good.

  “I needed to feel like I was in control, that I had power. And I do now.”

  It was true I felt powerful. Like a tiger… almost. But it wasn’t enough. Not yet.

  The entire day went by without a hitch, other than several people stopping me to comment or ask about my hair. I still hadn’t seen Wyatt, and I had more questions, which I was ready to ask now that I had had time to process some things. But it wasn’t Wyatt I saw first; it was Tanya, the girl from the bar.

  “Hey, Charlie,” she called quickly, racing to catch up with me. Her eyes were on my hair. She quickly looked around and jutted her chin to the side of the building. We were in front of the Science building. It was one of the oldest buildings on campus, and it loomed over us with its red bricks darkened by shadow and lack of sun. She leaned in and whispered, “When did you turn?”

  “What?” I pretended not to understand her, shrugging my shoulders.

  She stepped back, unsure for a moment as she looked me over. I knew that there were differences in my appearance; not just my hair, but the way I stood and walked. I hadn’t realized that until I had caught myself in a passing window. I was confident, intentional, and focused. I looked like I was… prowling. It was the only word I could think of that fit.

  She backed up for a moment; she was unsure of herself. “Seriously, Charlie. This is important, and I’m trying to help you.” She frowned at me then, stepping back and giving me space; her stance no longer on the offensive.

  “Why were they, or, I’m sorry, you trying to keep me from knowing what I was and what I can do? What I’m supposed to be?” I asked, the anger bubbling up inside of me. I needed someone to blame, and, in that moment, she was that person.

  “It wasn’t me.” Tanya sighed. “They wanted to hide you, and the best way to do that is to keep you human.”

  “But why?” I asked, advancing on her, pushing her closer to the brick wall. I knew I was being a bully, but I was angry. I also knew it probably wasn’t her fault, but I didn’t, in that moment, care one damn bit.

  A feral look grazed across her expression as she met my gaze. She moved forward and, rather than back down, she looked ready to fight. She would not be easily intimidated or pushed around. A low growl emitted from her throat. It was unnatural, and then before my eyes, her usual blue eyes shifted to a slightly different appearance. They weren’t human. Neither was the growl. It made me back up a few steps.

  “As I said,” she growled gruffly. She turned her head to the side and squeezed her eyes shut as if pushing something down. “I’m here to protect you.”

  “What if I don’t want your protection?” I challenged.

  “It doesn’t matter. Call your dad. Or hell.” She glanced down at my vibrating pocket. “Answer your phone for once.”

  As I glanced down to my pocket, my hand slipping in to retrieve my phone, I peered back up to find her gone. And, as if Tanya had just known, there on my calls notifications was my dad’s number, and not just once. Over fifteen missed calls, and a recent missed call that had just ended. How had I not heard it before?

  Before I could look any further or listen to the many voice messages left, it rang again. My dad’s face and number flashed across the screen.

  “Hello?” my voice was hesitant, unsure of what to say. I hadn’t finished mulling everything over in my head. My dad had been lying. Not just lying but drugging me. He had kept important information from me. I wanted to know why, but first, I needed to accept the information.

  “Charlie. You need to come home. I’m coming to get you. I’ll explain everything when I get there.” His voice was softer than usual, and there was concern discernable in his voice, but it wasn’t enough, not yet. I needed help, but I didn’t want it from him.

  “No. Stay there. I don’t want your help. Not right now,” I growled into the phone. I hadn’t meant to growl, but the words just ended that way, and then I clicked the call off and turned the phone off completely.

  How did he know? Just like that? I felt like my life was one big Truman show. It made me glance around even, checking for cameras, spies, anything.

  I then focused on looking around for Tanya. Not seeing her, I went to my spot. The spot only I would ever go to until recently when Wyatt had encroached on my solitude.

  I needed help, and although I didn’t fully trust him, he was the only one at the moment who hadn’t lied or kept the truth from me. He would help me whether he liked it or not, and as if it was a magical calling portal, after about twenty minutes of sitting there in calm contemplation, where my mind jumped in multiple directions of what the hell was going on and why, he popped up from behind a tree.

  “You look like you had a rough night,” Wyatt announced as he slowly emerged from the thick trees that provided the perfect hidden contemplation spot.

  “I did,” I dryly admitted, my eyes narrowing toward him. “I want you to tell me everything.” I crossed my arms, sitting on the bench, no longer in pajamas thankfully.

  “Don’t you want to talk to your father, or the community you and he belongs to first?” he asked apprehensively.

  “Do I want to talk to the people who lied and hid things from me my whole life? Hell yes, but not right now.” I slid over on the bench and turned, letting him know with my gaze he was to sit next to me in the empty spot. I didn’t take my eyes off of him once.

  He was in his signature jeans, black t-shirt, and what looked liked black vans on his feet. He had well-formed muscles, but not overly so. His black hair hung over his eyes, as usual. It made me speculate on what bothered him. His glowing, emerald eyes met mine. He was a very attractive man.

  “Okay.” He paused, walking over to sit next to me. “How can I assist you?”

  “I want to know everything, and I want you to tell me,” I demanded. “If I am supposed to be your queen, then you owe me something, right?”

  He sat there as if he was seriously considering multiple issues flitting through his head. Some twisted his features in deep concentration, where others held a hint of fear. He sighed and lifted his gaze to meet mine, worry still in his vibrant eyes. Yet, after a few minutes of peering at me, he squared his shoulders and a resolved expression of intent was mirrored back into my own gaze.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “I want to know why this was kept from me first.” I leaned in, softening my voice to be less demanding now that he had agreed to answer my questions.

  “I can’t speak exactly for your father, but I can tell you what I know.” He shrugged awkwardly, as if the information wasn’t something that he wanted to share but that he had no choice. “Your family, as we discussed previously, were in charge of all the various different shifter communities. They were an ancient line descended from the first shifter, and they were shifter royalty. The only shifter royalty we have ever had. They were tied closely to the human ruler of Russia, all the way back to the princes of Novgorod. Only, in our community, the oldest female rules. They adopted this from the beginning, when there were only female shifters and it changed gradually from there.”

  “But has there been male rulers?” I asked, wondering if there was a reverse sexiest issue in the shifter community.

  “Yes, but we are a traditional community, and first-born females rule first, then other siblings, whether male or female.” He shrugged and leaned back, rubbing his hands on his jeans, more comfortable with the conversation now. “But in the royal Vasiliev, the firstborn female always rose to power.”

  “Vasiliev?” I stumbled over the name. It was a common name in Russia. Nothing special like Romanov.

  “Yes, the men who married the shifter royalty had to adopt the last name. So, they passed it down the line, and in many families outside the royal line, both shifters and humans.”

  “My last name is not Vasiliev,” I announced, as if it meant something important.

  “And you don’t carry your dad’s actual last name either,” Wyatt commented with a nonchalant shrug, as if I should know that. “But I’m getting to that.”

  I scoffed but then quickly closed my mouth to listen. I couldn’t think of being anything other than a Webster.

  But just then, as if a huge light lit up inside my brain, I realized something I had never considered before, Webster wasn’t a Russian name. Not even close.

  “A few hundred years ago, particular families produced only one type of animal, much like the royal family. They banded together like clans, moved across the world together creating communities. They selected leaders for the communities by the royal house. Only, after a while, one group stopped identifying with their ancient lineages and wanted to become their own separate nation of sorts.”

  “Who?” I asked curiously.

  “The McClain’s of Scotland. They were a clan of large wolves. It’s where the term werewolf generated from.”

  “I know some McClains,” I mumbled, thinking of Mac and his daughter, who just earlier I had wanted to rip her throat out.

  “Yeah, Mac is one. But they are different.”

  “How?” I asked, remembering Mac treating me differently because of the fact that I was my father’s daughter.

  “Mac, in a way, is McClain royalty, but he left the clan to disappear here before the big takeover. He didn’t want to be a part of the bloodshed that was to come. The story is that they sent him to a university in Saint Petersburg to assassinate your mother first, before they had even planned the takeover, as an accidental death. And as the royal family scrambled around to grieve and decide on succession, they were to attack. But it didn’t go that way. Mac met your mom and your father, but things didn’t go as planned.” He stopped, turning his head up as if to sense what was around us before continuing. “Your dad saved his life; they became friends. Mac warned your mom. She tried to warn her family, but they were angrier with her relationship with an American subpar shifter than anything. So, she passed her right to succession to her younger sister, left Russia, changed her name, and cut all ties to her past.”

  “But then why did she die?” I asked, knowing for a long time that she did not just die in a freak accident. Every time we talked about my mother and how she died, why we had to leave where we had buried her so quickly, and why we lived here away from the world, my dad would get a sad look in his eyes. One that bespoke of tragedy, loss, and deep pain. He had really loved my mother. Something I had one day wished to have, only with less tragedy.

  Wyatt frowned. The sides of his mouth dipping down grimly. “As long as someone in the royal line survives, they have a right to reclaim the throne, to bring justice and an end to the chaos.” His voice sounded serious, dripping with a resolve that spoke more volumes than the actual words that slipped from his lips. He wanted the royal line restored, but why?

  “How did she really die?” I asked instead.

  The memory of my mother was so distant, barely there and corrupted by time. I thought I loved her, but all I could remember, really, was the way she felt and smelled when she hugged me, and the fact her hair was so pale and soft. Just like my hair now. I had always thought I looked more like my father, until I looked at my reflection this morning to find the perfect replica of the woman, whose picture dangled on our wall, sadly never changing year after year. The only family picture we ever had done. My father looked at her with love in his eyes as she faced the camera, and I clung to her on her lap. There was a considerable amount of pride on her face, and the chubby, dark-haired toddler stared back at the camera as well, with the gaze only a truly loved baby can have, with absolute happiness twinkling across her baby face. I didn’t need to wonder if my mother loved me. She did.

  Wyatt didn’t answer me. Instead, he lifted his head back up as if he was sensing something. I did. There was that intuition, as if I knew someone was approaching. Someone I knew. I listened and, just as we both stood up, Wyatt placed his finger over his lips and jutted his head to the side, mouthing follow me.

  I wasn’t scared, but I wasn’t ready to see anyone else, and I knew who was coming. It made me realize something Wyatt had said. He called my dad a sub-par shifter. As we silently raced through the woods, Wyatt pulling me along as his large hand engulfed mine, the feeling disappeared the farther we ran through the overgrowth. Once we were far enough into the woods, Wyatt stopped.

  “We can walk from here. They will lose the scent before even getting here. Even the dog.” He spat the last part. “But we need to shift or run farther if you want to continue this chat.”

  “Shift?” I looked closely at him. “We can control it?”

  I instantly felt a little sick thinking of the pain I had experienced last night. The pain so intense it had felt like every bone in my body was breaking at once, and that my skin was being flayed off. Just as it had started, it had ended. Yet, as nauseous as it made me to think about, it also made me feel exhilarated by the idea of becoming the tiger again. It sent an intense sense of pleasure throughout my entire body, from my toes to my palms and back down again, as if my body was prepared for it, wanted it, needed it.

  Wyatt hadn’t answered me but watched me. I was vibrating before I knew it, the intense feeling overwhelming me again. Only this time, it was less painful and more, well, it was different. It was what I would imagine the feeling of an orgasm would be, if I’d had one.

  I collapsed into Wyatt’s arms. He said something, but I didn’t hear him as the waves of intense emotions and sensations erupted in every fiber of my body. There was a smile on Wyatt’s face when I finally found his eyes. He said something again.

  “What?” I asked confused. “Am I about to shift?”

  I hadn’t changed yet. Wyatt stood there looking around, tense, while holding me close to his chest.

  “Yes, and no.” He breathed as he took off into the woods, with me bouncing in his arms. “You are emitting pheromones. I need to get you away, far away.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked with a grunt as we landed roughly.

  Wyatt seemed to have superhuman strength as he swiftly passed through the heavily overgrown twisting foliage and trees, jumping over tree trunks and rocks with ease. It was almost an hour that had passed before he slowed. There was perspiration on his brow, and he almost dropped me on the ground before turning away from me and covering his nose.

  “Stay there. I need to grab something. I’ll be right back,” he called over his shoulder as he raced off with his fingers still clasping his nose. When he returned, he had some plant pushed into his nose. The sensations had eased while we were running, but there was still a warm feeling that was going through my body.

 

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