Crimson Moon

by J. A. Saare

  "Over here,” he said, opening the door in front of us and reaching inside to flip a switch, “Is yours."

  His distinguishable scent was all over the masculine space. I looked at the large bed. The backboard reached the ceiling, surrounded by stained mahogany walls. A matching bookshelf was to the left, multiple books cramming the shelves with the exception of the middle, which was adorned with various pictures. The only other furniture was a black stereo cabinet and a nightstand near the bed.

  I shook my head. “I can't take your room, Caleb."

  "You are,” he stated firmly.

  I walked to the bookshelf and bent down to peer into the frames. The same people were displayed in most of the photographs.

  "My sister, Samantha.” Caleb pointed to the picture in the middle. The resemblance was astounding. Her hair was the same shade of black, hanging in long curls down her back, deep blue eyes sparkling at the camera. She appeared younger than me, but I couldn't be certain.

  "She's gorgeous."

  I wondered if she had also inherited the werewolf trait but was afraid to ask. I stared at the image longer than I intended to, thinking she would reveal herself if I studied the image long enough.

  "She is, and yes, she is like me,” Caleb answered the unspoken question.

  "Can you read minds now?” I held my breath, cheeks flaming.

  "No,” he chuckled softly, smiling. “You just have a knack with questions.” He pulled out the largest frame from the back. “This is my Mom and Dad."

  He held it out, placing the frame carefully in my hands. His Mothers short brown hair and tiny frame reminded me of a pixie. I gazed down at Caleb's Dad and my mouth loosened, jaw going lax.

  This is what Caleb would look like years from now. They were the mirror image of one another.

  "She's beautiful and he's...you,” I stammered lamely.

  "I know."

  I returned the picture to him and watched as he put it back. There was no tension, no worry. I was witnessing Caleb for the first time—his family bringing out the vulnerable side he kept so fastidiously hidden. I liked him like this, no false pretenses, no fear of what other part lurked underneath the surface. No concerns about anything.

  Just the two of us, being ourselves.

  "I don't know what music you like but I have a decent selection."

  He walked over to the stereo, pulling out a CD case and unzipping it. He put it on top of the black comforter as he sat down. He smiled, patting the space beside him.

  "Only if you promise to be a gentleman.” I waited, standing still for added effect.

  He placed his hand over his heart, masking a grin. “You have my word."

  I smiled and climbed up, sinking into the feather comforter.

  "What music do you like?” he asked as he flipped through the pages, his fingers tracing the outline of random CD's.

  "Almost everything,” I answered, adding quickly, “Except country."

  Caleb lifted his brow humorously. “Just don't tell Billy that. You might break his heart."

  "What about you? What do you like?” I leaned toward the folder, looking inside the neatly stacked sleeves. The CD's were placed just above the covers.

  "Here.” He passed it over, our hands brushing as he waited for me to get a grip.

  A gentle rapping sounded on the wall and I looked up as Derek walked in. His eyes flickered back and forth between us.

  "Sam's on the phone."

  "I'll be back.” Caleb rose from the bed, striding out the door and down the stairs. I heard his feet as he shuffled around the corner.

  Derek walked to the bed, glancing down at my hands. “Coldplay?” he laughed and winked at me. “He must keep that kind of garbage around to impress you ladies."

  "And just how many ladies has he had up here?” I asked half jokingly.

  "None.” Derek stared at me, ensuring I couldn't mistake his seriousness.

  The confession made me both elated and uncomfortable at the same time. I pretended to look at the CD's, flipping the pages nervously, fingers quivering. I could feel him staring and it was hard not to shift under the scrutiny.

  "What you're experiencing is totally normal,” Derek said quickly, glancing toward the door, “The rush and intensity, all of it."

  "How did you know that?” I didn't attempt to mask my shock, allowing the folder to drop limply into my lap.

  "Ask Caleb, he's off the phone.” Derek lowered his head and walked out of the room, swerving to avoid Caleb as he topped the stairs, whistling as he went.

  "I thought you might be hungry.” Caleb tossed a bag of beef jerky on the bed and handed me a can of Pepsi.

  "I'm a Coke girl.” I crinkled my nose distastefully, accepting the can. I hated Pepsi. It left a strange after taste in my mouth that I couldn't stand.

  "Have you ever heard the expression about beggars and choosers?” he teased, arching an eyebrow.

  "You know, I think I have heard that somewhere,” I laughed.

  He walked to the closet, opening the door and stepping inside. I heard rustling that continued for a few seconds before he appeared again, closing the door behind him with a bundle of clean clothing folded under his arm.

  "I need a shower.” He motioned in the direction of the bathroom. “I won't be long."

  "Wait, what did Sam say?” I hoped he was on his way. I had so many questions to ask. There was so much I still didn't understand.

  Caleb turned, hesitating as he answered, “They ransacked the hideout, destroying everything inside.” He was holding back, not telling me everything.

  "But there's something else, isn't there?"

  "Tristan got out. They don't know where he is."

  I nodded, unsure of how to respond. There wasn't anything to say really.

  Caleb walked from the room and around the corner, in the direction of the bathroom. I heard a loud click as he closed the door and released the breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.

  Tristan, whoever he was, was still out there. I hoped he was too busy with his own problems to be concerned with me. Besides, I was safe here. Only an idiot would try to come inside a house full of werewolves.

  I rolled my eyes at myself.

  And what exactly does that say about you, Emma?

  The shower started and I climbed off the bed, placing the unopened can of Pepsi as well as the jerky on the nightstand. I pulled the heavy jacket from my arms, draping it on the end of the bed.

  The bandage on my forearm was still clean but a small brown spot had formed in the middle. My eyes ran over my ruined blouse. The blood had spilled and dried around the sleeve, crusting under the arm, causing each brush of the garment against my skin to itch.

  For a moment, I considered walking into Caleb's closet and grabbing something from inside. But I was reluctant to enter his private space without asking first. Instead I walked down the stairs, in search of Billy and Derek.

  I found them reclined on the large sofa with their legs sprawled out. Derek's elbows were bent, hands clasped behind his head. Ironically enough, they were watching a bad horror movie. I could make out people in robes carrying a coffin across a marshy moor. The sound was so low I could barely hear it.

  "Did you ask him?” Derek's question startled me. He didn't turn around, face glued to the television.

  My cheeks burned in embarrassment yet again. No one could ever accuse Derek of beating around the bush.

  I cleared my throat, ignoring the question. “No. Actually, I was wondering..."

  He flipped his chin up, peering over his shoulder. “Woooonddddering?” he drew the question out and waited.

  I motioned to my blouse, pulling at the cloth along the bottom. “Do either of you have an extra shirt or something I can borrow?"

  "Absolutely!” Derek was off the couch in a flash.

  He rushed up the stairs, bounding along three at a time, reappearing in seconds and handing me a plain grey t-shirt. He seemed really excited for some reason, almost hyper.
>
  "Go ahead and change, the bathroom's right there.” He motioned happily toward the door.

  "Derek...” Billy warned with a throaty growl.

  "What?” Derek admonished innocently. “She asked!"

  Billy shook his head, returning to the movie.

  I frowned at Derek before walking into the restroom. I peeled the blouse off, pulling the t-shirt over my head. It was several sizes too large, hanging well above my knees. I sighed as I threw the blouse into the garbage—it had been one of my favorites—and arranged my hair on my shoulders before opening the door, flicking off the light and stepping outside. I could hear Caleb's voice as he came down the stairs.

  "There she is.” Derek's entire face lit up like a garish Christmas tree.

  Caleb spun around, the grin on his face slowly turning to a frown. He stopped drying his hair with the towel, lowering his arms. His nose flared as he took long steps toward me.

  "Take...that...off,” he growled.

  "Excuse me?” I was confused but somehow equally annoyed. First Derek was acting crazy, and now him.

  Did the full moon come out when I wasn't looking?

  Derek started to laugh. I turned from him to Caleb, trying to figure out what new joke I didn't understand. Billy was shaking his head, grumbling something under his breath.

  Angry, I snapped, “No, I will not take it off. What am I—a stripper?"

  I was tired of being in the dark about everything and it was something I was about to rectify immediately. No more inside jokes.

  "Derek, you damned instigator!” Billy yelled, standing up and walking around the couch to me. “Listen darlin',” Billy said consolingly, patting my shoulder. “That shirt you have on is covered in Derek's scent."

  Frowning, I reached down and brought the shirt to my nose, cautiously smelling the cotton. I couldn't detect anything but detergent and dryer sheets. I cleared my nose and breathed in again, lifting my eyes.

  Caleb was livid, his furious glare stopping me mid sniff.

  By now, Derek was cackling with glee. I shot him an angry look and stalked back into the bathroom, slamming the door shut to emphasize my annoyance. I pulled off the shirt, digging the stained blouse out of the trash and yanking it back over my head. Caleb had some serious explaining to do. I opened the door and chucked the t-shirt back at Derek.

  Caleb strode over to me and lowered his head, drawing in a deep breath and shooting Derek a murderous glare.

  "I'll deal with you later,” he rumbled, throwing the towel at him and then grabbing my hand to lead me back upstairs.

  "Ask him, Emma!” Derek yelled, his peals of laughter billowing off the walls.

  Caleb remained close as I stomped up. The shirt was doubly itchy now, having found new tender surfaces to chafe. I stomped into the bedroom and crossed my arms over my chest, spinning around to face him. I hadn't been this angry in a very long time.

  "You know,” I grated through clenched teeth, “I think in light of everything, I've been a pretty good sport. But this being on the outside, not knowing what in the world is going on, is pissing me off!"

  Caleb closed the door behind him and walked to the closet, thrusting the door open and allowing me to see inside. A tall dresser was situated against the back wall, boxes efficiently stacked on top. Long rods ran along either side, clothes neatly positioned on the hanger. Jeans, shirts, slacks, polo's, and dress shirts were all tidily arranged within. He reached for a hanger, grabbing a black t-shirt and yanking it free before walking back out.

  "Here.” He offered the shirt to me, clearly infuriated.

  I held my ground, keeping my arms crossed over my chest and shaking my head. He was going to spill the beans, and he was going to do it right now. No more excuses.

  "Emma,” he rumbled, eyes smoldering back at me.

  "You can get as angry as you want, but until you explain, I'm not budging."

  His determined face cracked a little. “Are you always so stubborn?"

  "Don't tell me and you'll find out.” I sighed exhaustedly.

  My anger had faded into a blistering annoyance. I felt fatigue coming on. It had been a very long day and I wasn't in the mood for games. Not from Caleb. Derek was bad enough.

  "Fine, just change, please. I promise we'll talk."

  I reached for the shirt, glancing around and trying to decide where to change.

  "I saved you hot water,” he said quietly, waiting.

  I was about to tell him exactly where he could shove that hot water, but then I thought about it. I was grimy. My hair was slightly poufy from the rain. And my body was spent. I could escape for a few minutes; alone for the first time since this morning. No way was I passing the opportunity up. A shower sounded like heaven.

  "Where are the towels?"

  He relaxed, shoulders no longer tense. “On the sink, I left one for you."

  I walked to the door and opened it, observing Derek's buzzed head as it vanished from the bottom of the stairs.

  Oh the nerve.

  I was already formulating a plan of revenge against that one.

  I walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I almost twisted the small lock on the handle but shrugged instead. If they wanted in, a measly little piece of metal inside a brass knob wouldn't stop them.

  As Caleb promised, a fluffy green towel awaited me on the sink. On top sat a brush, a newly wrapped bar of soap, and an unopened toothbrush.

  I felt my resolve begin to crack. It was difficult to be angry at him when he was so thoughtful. I placed the soap onto the edge of the bathtub, preparing to relax inside the soothing hot water.

  I pulled back the dewy plastic curtain covered in swimming fish and adjusted the faucets. I stripped down, stepping into the back, careful to avoid my bandaged arm. I eased into the heavy stream and sighed, the water felt better than I'd imagined.

  I scrubbed myself clean, looking around and finding a lone bottle of shampoo. I emptied some of the thick liquid into my hand and scrubbed my hair, then rinsed it free of fragrant floral smelling bubbles. The bandage was wet and I decided to remove it, pulling it free from my arm. I was relived to discover the wound had closed. It didn't need stitches, but the scar it would leave behind was going to be nasty.

  I stayed under the stream until the water turned cold. Then I turned the levers and pulled back the curtains, reaching for the towel. I wrapped the soft fuzzy cotton around my body, grasping the brush on the sink and pulling it through my too long hair. I toweled the excess water out when done, getting it as dry as possible, and slowly pulled on my clothes.

  The shirt Caleb had given me was even larger than Derek's, the short sleeves dangling past my elbows and the long hem hanging to my knees. I pulled on my jeans and glanced in the mirror.

  Fabulous.

  I looked and felt like an exhausted hood rat.

  I accepted I couldn't hide in the bathroom forever, hanging my damp towel over the rack and tossing my shirt into the small trash can. I switched off the light and walked back to the bedroom. Caleb was there waiting for me, just as I knew he would be.

  "Would you shut the door?” he asked politely.

  I did as he asked, pulling it closed before facing him again. I wasn't angry anymore, just incredibly drained and absolutely worn out.

  "Sit down.” He motioned next to him before adding, “Please."

  I took a breath in and let it out. I padded over to the bed, placing my shoes on the side before climbing up, resting my shoulder's against the headboard.

  Caleb slid around to sit at the foot of the bed, pushing the leather jacket I'd placed there over and out of the way. “I don't know where to start,” he admitted anxiously.

  I sighed. It couldn't be that bad. “Derek said to ask you, but I don't even know how to describe what I'm experiencing."

  "I'm sorry about that,” he said apologetically. “This is new to me, too, if it's any consolation."

  "And what exactly is ‘this', Caleb?” I asked, still slightly annoyed.r />
  He hesitated for a moment before answering, “We call it bonding."

  "Bonding.” I stared at him, the word leaving my mouth and hovering in the air.

  "It's fine, really.” He grappled for the right words. “It just happens sometimes...between people."

  I tried to keep from laughing. He had fought off two werewolves without hesitation, yet he couldn't find the courage to talk openly with me. I bit my lip to keep from grinning and failed.

  He glanced up, scowling as he saw me. “I'm glad you think this is so funny, Emma,” he said, sounding positively furious.

  "I don't!” I defended myself, stifling laughter. “It's just—you're always so confident until you're alone with me."

  "Like I said.” His expression softened. “This is new for me as well."

  "What does bonding mean, exactly?” I asked, withholding burgeoning laughter.

  He didn't hesitate this time. “It means the wolf inside, as well as the man I am, have recognized you as a mate."

  The laughter dissipated and I froze. The information was unexpected, even after a day like this one.

  I reached for the Pepsi on the nightstand, cracking open the lid and taking several long swallows. It tasted all wrong but I hardly noticed. I placed it back on the nightstand and sat quietly.

  I had nothing to reply with, no witty observation or snide remark.

  "Emma?” he prodded gently, blue eyes full of concern.

  "So the way I feel when I'm near you, the way I react, is it me?” I asked fearfully. Maybe that would explain the intense attraction.

  "How many boyfriends have you had, Emma?"

  "One, why?” I tried to ignore the gleam in his eye as I answered.

  "And how did you feel, when you were with him?"

  "I don't see how that is relevant."

  I was not going to talk about Tom Hardy with Caleb.

  No way.

  "It's relevant because you're human, and experience regular emotions. Bonding just intensifies them."

  I stared at the black comforter and thought about what he asked. Tom was nice looking, and I remembered butterflies in my stomach the first time we kissed. But it wasn't the same. The relationship didn't last long, if you could even call it a relationship. It was nothing in comparison to what I experienced with Caleb. More along the lines of comparing a briar patch with red stemmed roses.