by H. T. Night
I counted myself very lucky that no fights had ever been scheduled for me during the full moon. Every full moon, I continued to head up north to see my werewolf buddies. We would turn when the full moon hit and wreak havoc in the woods. But we were fenced in by the property owner.
The worst thing was when we werewolves would fight each other in our canine forms. We wouldn’t remember a damn thing, but when we turned back, sometimes one of us would have a mean scratch on his back or worse yet, a black eye. Being a werewolf was getting tiresome. Except for wondering if it made me a stronger, quicker MMA fighter, I didn’t see the value in it, whatsoever. I kind of chalked up my MMA success to all of my hard training work. Being a werewolf was almost like having a weird disease and each month, we needed to be treated.
Werewolves were a contrast with the other immortals I knew existed. Vampires were always vampires. The Mani were a large, tough group. It didn’t seem fair that vampires were vampires all the time and with werewolves, it was a once-a-month surprise where you didn’t even remember what went down while you acted like a complete animal. Literally.
Sometimes, I wondered if I had made the right decision that fateful night at the Flatlands. It was the choice I’d made, to become a werewolf instead of a vampire. I constantly second-guessed myself, though.
Luckily, after becoming a Carni, or werewolf, I had never been stronger in my earthly human body. I even grew an inch and my feet increased by one shoe size.
I didn’t know if I would have grown those inches at my age, but I liked to think it was because I was a werewolf. I knew I wasn’t using any chemicals or hormones, like some athletes did, when they thought the risks outweighed the benefits. Nope, no TRT, HGH, steroids, or even creatine. I was an all-natural fighter. I did, however, eat a lot of protein. And it was beyond me to refuse Maya’s steaks and eggs, which I loved.
I thought the increased strength of the Carni was the Triat’s way of allowing werewolves to have some kind of advantage because vampires turn into black ravens and red hawks whenever they felt like it. Some of them had amazing talents like reading minds and moving objects telepathically. As far as I knew, werewolf powers were limited to strength and speed.
I didn’t like the Mani. As a matter of fact, I hated them with a passion. After that night in the mountains, I knew they were bad news. How they treated Sasha still made me sick. But then again, Patrick was one of the good ones. It just went to show me that even though we were all immortal, it didn’t mean we were all bad. I had to admit I had a hard time accepting or trusting vampires, even though Patrick was a very good friend.
I still often thought about Sasha and Patrick and wondered where they were and how they were doing. My new werewolf friends were cool people, but there was a little bit of competitiveness to decide who was the alpha wolf, and the king of the hill. In my mind, I was the king of every hill.
I had yet to meet a werewolf, vampire, or human who I thought could take me in a fight. Yet, I knew the old adage that there’s always someone tougher around the corner.
I thought of myself as the guy who was always around the corner. I was still waiting to find someone who could take me down in MMA.
There were some heavyweights in MMA that I wouldn’t want to mess with, but in the end, when push came to shove, I thought that I could outsmart them and beat them.
Chapter Twelve
Early on Valentine’s Day morning, I woke up and went to the bathroom and gargled until I scraped all the stank off my breath. That usually meant some serious brushing and multiple gargles. I always ended it with brushing the back of my tongue to make sure my mouth was wintery fresh. I was planning on kissing my fiancée good morning on the most romantic of days. She deserved better than me having ass-breath on V Day. Or was it canine breath?
She, on the other hand, would probably have some morning breath, but I never cared. Her morning breath added some pheromones and I actually liked it. Maybe it was my inner wolf. I stepped into the room and she was lying peacefully on her side of the bed, the right side.
I slid under the covers and snuggled up to her. I kissed her forehead. Then I kissed her chin and I gave each cheek a gentle peck. Her eyes opened and a giant smile developed.
“Good morning, handsome,” she said, staring into my eyes.
That was my cue to give her a kiss for the ages. I dove right in and gave her a huge, long wet kiss. Since it was Valentine’s Day, I gave an extra passionate kiss where all my emotion poured out. I ended the kiss with a slight nibble on her lower lip. She loved that.
I maneuvered my body so I was now on top of Maya. She was wearing panties and a T-shirt. I lay on top of her with just my tighty whities on. I looked down at her, putting pressure on her body to test the waters. I was hoping she was in the mood.
“Yes, may I help you?” she asked as she continued to wake up.
“Yes, you may. Pucker up, babe, because it’s Valentine’s Day. I need my fiancée to kiss me on the lips because rumor has it, my breath is a peppermint delight.”
“It was and I loved it. But mine isn't.”
“I've taken that into consideration. I have determined that your morning breath isn’t that hideous, and I plan on giving you so many kisses that eventually our breath will be as one.”
“How could a girl refuse that?”
I leaned in and nibbled on the front of her lip. Maya melted into my arms. Then our kisses collapsed together in a fireball of fury. Each kiss was more passionate than the next. The passion built and each kiss was like throwing gasoline on a fire.
Sometimes it was fun to kiss and to explore each other’s bodies before going right to the main event. I guess the term was ‘foreplay.’ Before Maya, I never considered foreplay to be that important because I was always in a hurry to get to the “good parts.”
With Maya, I had found that making love, and the slow buildup to satisfaction, was all the better for taking it step by step and not leaving out any caresses that I knew melted her.
We engaged in some serious lovemaking all morning, as befitted the most romantic of lovers’ holidays, and through every touch, every kiss, I loved her more and more.
We both showed a tenderness that I didn’t think we had ever experienced. It was supernatural.
With each act, each movement, we were telling the other one how much we loved each other. We let our bodies do most of the talking, which is how I liked it. And I was pretty sure, she did, too.
“I never want this to end,” I whispered to Maya in a rare moment when I could form words while I was inside of her. She loved it and looked at me, stunned and happy. I guessed we should talk in bed a lot more.
Maya looked up at me with such tender vulnerability that it brought tears to my eyes. This beautiful, smart, amazing creature loved me. I felt like the luckiest man in the world. And I was.
We stayed in bed and loved on one another for a good part of the day. It wasn’t planned. It just happened. One cannot predict this type of magic. It was totally spontaneous and mysterious. When it did happen, we needed to embrace it. That was exactly what we did. We acknowledged every moment and took nothing for granted. We buried ourselves in each other until we were one being and our skin smelled the same, a mingling of both of our scents.
We lay in bed and I held her close, running my fingers through her hair and gently up and down her spine, as she came back to Earth after pleasure that took her to heights that were beyond intelligible speech.
I listened to her breathing slow and felt her heart thumping against mine. She was warm and soft and most of all, she was mine. Claimed. Loved. Cherished.
Finally, at about four in the afternoon, without words, we stood up together and we took a shower, the slanting afternoon light coming through the bathroom window in a golden color that warmed our skin as we towel-dried each other afterward.
When we were done in the bathroom, we both went back to the bedroom and put some clothes on. We didn’t speak, both lost in the magic and not wanting to
lose it by letting the real world intrude on us.
I put on a white T-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. Maya wore form-fitting jeans and a yellow T-shirt.
We both sat on the bed in our clothes, holding hands. We were both pretty tired after our morning and afternoon activities. And we were reluctantly pulling ourselves away from the magic and into the everyday world again.
Then out of nowhere, Maya asked me a strange question: “Do you think we will be together forever?”
Oh, how the female mind works during lovemaking. The male embraces the moments for what they are; the female looks ahead for the long term. I paused and took in her question.
“Forever, Maya? You are aware that I am now immortal.”
“I know that. I’ve thought about this a lot. Your body and looks are twenty-three years of age. I’m going to start to look a lot older than you. In fifty years, I will be in my seventies and you will still be in your twenty-three-year old form.”
She was right. That might be a conundrum.
“I never thought about that. I know I love who you are. I love you far more because of the woman that you are. Looks fade. Don’t get me wrong, I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. I’m sure that even in fifty years, I’ll feel the same way. Even if you age, but I don’t.”
“I worry, Tommy. We’ll walk down the street together, a long time from now, and people will think I’m your grandma. How is that going to look?”
Then it dawned on me what Maya might have been implying. “Are you trying to suggest something?” I asked, wondering if she was considering being a werewolf… or worse yet, a vampire.
“I’m not suggesting anything in the immediate future, but it will be something we will be forced to address. Before my youth starts to fade, if you please.”
Maya reached in and hugged me tightly. “I always want to be beautiful in your eyes, and I want to go out into the world with you, and not hide myself because I have aged and you have not.”
I looked Maya straight in her beautiful eyes. “Whatever happens, I will always love you and you will always be with me. I will never let you hide yourself away.”
“You don’t know that,” Maya stated indignantly. “You love me now, but that can change.”
“Why are you questioning how I feel today? On a day we expressed our love in multiple ways.”
“I don’t know. I get scared that someday you will wake up and not want to kiss me anymore. I’ll be wrinkly and gray-haired and not… vibrant.”
I exhaled and looked deep into Maya’s eyes.
She gulped. “Our love is so perfect, Tommy. I never want it to change or lessen for any reason.”
“Maya, there are some things in this life that are unexplainable and unchangeable. What I do know is that we are connected: heart, body, and soul. And soon, we will be married and there is nothing on this Earth I want more than to be your husband. For as long as we exist.”
Maya kissed me and before we knew it, all of our clothes were off and we made love one more time. This time, it was slow and tender, to the beat of our hearts. I never felt closer to her. It felt as if my heart was going to explode from so much love squeezed into it, for her, and from her.
“I love you, Maya.”
“And I love you, Tommy. I love you so very much.”
Chapter Thirteen
For the next month, Maya and her mom kicked it up a notch on preparing for our wedding. I knew nothing about weddings. So, I let them have at it with the girly parts, and I stuck to the manly parts, with Josiah, my right-hand man.
Our wedding colors were going to be purple and white. I had always liked the color purple. It seemed to be a tad on the unusual side in regard to other colors, but purple was a rich color and to me, according to Maya, it was the color of love’s deepest heart.
I had heard that many men dropped the ball in regard to the preparation of the wedding. So, when Maya asked my opinion, I looked her in the eyes and gave her sincere answers.
My mind may have been thinking about the Lakers or MMA, but she felt that I was participating and that was what was most important. That she mattered.
I was validating her opinions and thoughts by listening carefully and responding honestly, and supportively. I didn’t want Maya to have a prenuptial meltdown from stress, like on those Bridezilla TV shows.
Nope, I wanted her to be a princess for a day, and my wife for a lifetime. It was no secret to me that women wanted the fairy tale, storybook wedding. She, my lovely Maya, was my very own princess bride.
When we weren’t talking about the wedding or taking care of some detail connected to it, on the back burner was always my MMA training and my time with Josiah, who was beginning to be thought of as the best damn sparring partner in the MMA.
Because I was focusing my attention on my wedding these days, that didn’t mean I wasn’t aware of the success I was having in my fight career. I was moving up the charts in MMA. I was beating all my opponents pretty soundly. My MMA record was 6-0. I was proud that I had remained undefeated, but that didn’t matter in the present moment. What mattered was I was about to marry the most perfect woman in the world. She was completely suited for me. And I for her.
Sometimes, I wondered what she saw in me, but I just accepted her grace with extreme gratitude, that she could love a rough and unkempt werewolf Carni who ate six meals a day and made messes in the house and generally wanted to be either having sex or fighting MMA in almost every waking moment.
I didn’t ask the question because in my heart, each and every day, she told me and showed me that she loved me with every molecule of her existence. Maya was life and her life was personified by this love that made her rise above all others, in my eyes.
Maya and I had talked about possibly having three kids. So, the more I won my fights, the more money I could earn to support my family. Maya was planning a modest 50-to 60-person wedding that was just inside Daniel’s budget, so he was happy.
Things were going great. I was on top of the world. Nothing in this life would prepare me for this day except for the woman I was to marry. At every step toward the big day, she was there, radiant with anticipation of being… a werewolf’s wife. It was incomprehensible to me that she loved me that much, but she did.
The date was March 20, and just a couple of weeks until our wedding day. As the date rolled closer, something happened inside of me. I began to realize that I was truly loved. For myself.
It was a strength even greater than being a werewolf: being loved unconditionally.
Every night, when my head hit the pillow, the last conscious thought I had in my head was: Maya.
6:18 a.m. I woke up a tad paranoid, as if I thought an intruder was in the house. After looking around my reasonably small apartment, I came to the conclusion that I was probably having a bad dream.
“What’s wrong, honey?” Maya asked, waking up to the fact that I was out of bed and was checking doors and windows and inside the closets. She noticed I was walking apprehensively in my bare feet, as if the floor was already littered with Legos, wooden blocks, and Matchbox cars.
“It’s nothing, babe. Go back to sleep,” I said, trying to reassure her that nothing was wrong. Even though I was having mini-panic attacks, I couldn’t let her know that.
“Well, I’m certainly up. Let me make us some breakfast, Tommy.”
“You don’t have to, sweetie.”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to. You hungry?” she asked.
“When am I not hungry?”
7:00 a.m. Maya served me Eggs Benedict the way I loved it. She even made her special homemade hollandaise sauce. She also served it with a side of strawberries and sourdough toast with grape jam. I ate all of it and felt extremely guilty because I knew I gained at least five pounds with all that I ate. I’d skip lunch and that would probably balance out my caloric count for the day.
Okay, truth here. There would be extra running for that hollandaise sauce.
7:30 a.m. May
a reminded me that we were to meet her parents at a floral shop in Fullerton right off the 91 freeway this afternoon. She wanted me to pick the flowers for the boutonnières for the men in the wedding party, including myself.
And then, she wanted to make sure that I approved of the purple and white flowers that were going to be in her bride’s bouquet and in her mom’s matron-of-honor bouquet. It was the first I knew that her mom was her matron of honor, instead of sitting in a pew, watching the wedding. I loved the idea of honoring her mom and told her so.
Maya beamed when I praised her for choosing her mom as her matron of honor. She also mentioned that her dad wanted to take us out to eat after visiting the flower shop today, at a place near where we lived in Anaheim Hills.
8:00 a.m. I went for an hour run to burn off the big breakfast. I came home and took a shower. I still had a feeling of uneasiness, so much so, that I called Josiah and asked if he was okay. That kid was always in a fight with somebody. I worried about him.
“What’s up, man?” I said when he grunted a hello.
“Dude, it’s like 8:30 in the morning on a Saturday. This better be good for you to wake me up.”
“Are you okay? Are your parents okay?” I asked.
“Everybody’s doing great. Mom and Dad went to breakfast and brought me back donuts. I was planning on eating them when I officially woke up. At noon. It looks like there’s a chocolate French cruller with my name all over it. Now that you woke me up, I think it’s time for me to make that cruller my bitch.”
“All that cruller is going to do is give you bitch tits. Do you plan on wrestling heavyweight when you go pro? You eat like a pig,” I said, sounding like an older brother.
“Good morning to you, too. And no, I plan on fighting at whatever weight you’re fighting at because if you’re undefeated, then I should coast through your weight class. You have to diet and exercise like crazy and I have to bulk up on the carbs and protein if we are ever going to meet each other in the ring as opponents.”