Masked SheWolf

by Yara Gharios

  "I didn't think you were serious," I hiss.

  "Come on, Logy," he taunts. "Live a little."

  This guy is insane.

  "Don't call me that," I object. "It gets on my nerves. I only let Reena do it because she's my mate... and she came up with it."

  Michael laughs. "If that's not love, I don't know what is."

  "Shut up."

  That's when he finds his momentum and leaps, instantly grabbing onto the window he was aiming for. I'm still on the ground, and I watch him. Even though he was talking to me while climbing, his focus was unwavering. He may not think of himself as alpha-material, but I have a feeling he would be smart when confronted with a difficult situation, like in a fight for example.

  He looks back at me when he's in and smiles haughtily. "Your turn."

  I shake my head. "You're up there already," I point out. "Why don't you just go to that music room, open the window and start playing?"

  "Because the sound might travel," he replies like it's obvious.

  I find an alternative. "Then open the front door and I'll go in from there."

  "I don't know where they keep the keys." He smirks. "Is the big bad alpha scared?"

  I glare at him. I don't like his attitude. Turning my back on him, I take several steps while he continues to taunt me.

  "Oh, come on, you can't be that afraid," he says. "It's just a wall, what do you have to lo-"

  Whatever he's about to say is cut short when I face him again and start running. About ten feet away from the building, I jump and soar right to the window he's standing behind. I hold on to the opening with both hands, my face less than a foot from his. His heart is racing from the shock, and it's enough to bring a smug smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

  "You're strong," I point out, keeping my voice low because I still don't want us to get caught, "but I'm stronger."

  Swiftly, I leap down from the window until I'm standing inches away from him. He still hasn't moved. He's about a foot shorter than me and is simply staring up at me in surprise.

  Abruptly, he shakes his head and takes a step back. "You have got to teach me how to do that," he announces.

  My grin widens. "Sorry, pack training secrets," I taunt him in a whisper.

  I'm bluffing, of course. There aren't any secrets; we just train longer and more often than most packs. I like messing with him, though. He's been doing that nonstop since yesterday, and the tables have finally turned.

  He narrows his eyes. "Why are you still whispering?"

  "I don't want to get caught," I reply, although I use my normal voice.

  Michael rolls his eyes. "We're already inside," he reminds me. "No one's going to hear you but the mice. I'm sure your wolf side can handle that just fine."

  The tables have sure turned again real quick, I observe. I don't mind it, though.

  He twists on his heels before I even get the chance to think of a response. "Come on, music room's this way."

  I follow him wordlessly. I'm used to working hard to be myself around people. The only one I was always comfortable around is Cade, and that's because we grew up in the same house, as brothers. It took me years to warm up to Sadie, but that's only because she kept pushing me to let her play with us. I didn't even open up to Reena until we'd been dating for a year.

  With Michael, I'm really surprised at how natural it comes. It's only been two weeks. I had my guard up at first, but that's instinct; I don't trust people from first meeting them. But even two weeks is shorter than it's ever taken me to start being comfortable around someone.

  I like it.

  The music room he walks into has several seats in the middle with scattered instruments lining the walls, a teacher's desk at the front corner and a small stage in the center with a piano set up on it. He immediately walks over there and sits down at the piano's chair. I lean against one of the seats, waiting.

  He hesitates and stares at me. "I've never played for anyone before," he admits. "I mean, of course, plenty of people heard me before, like my family and during class. But I've never willingly played for someone before. I'm not even supposed to be doing this; my parents made me give it up professionally."

  I frown. "Why?"

  He shrugs. "They didn't think it would get me anywhere," he says, sounding disappointed by that fact. "I haven't gotten any real practice since I quit. I only play at home as a hobby now, and sometimes in class, but only when-"

  "Michael," I stop him.

  He falters. "Yeah?"

  I smile encouragingly. "Just play."

  He takes a deep breath. "Okay," he sighs.

  He faces the keys and holds his hands out over them. There's a moment of silence, and then he starts playing an unfamiliar tune. It starts off slow and sad. The sound fills the air, travels to me and hits me in my very core. Then it picks up a little, but it's so bittersweet that it tugs at my heartstring, and I feel a tightening in my chest the more I listen to him. The melody constantly shifts between slow and fast, slow and fast, moving back and forth like a tide, and I feel myself being moved along with it.

  He's good. He's very good. I watch him as he plays, leaning toward and away from the piano the more he gets into it, eyes closed. I want to stay still, because if I move, I might break the trance we're both in. But I'm curious to see how his hands are moving over the keyboards, because it seems to me like the sounds are too fast. I want to see how he's able to keep up the rhythm.

  Wordlessly, I stand behind him, my gaze fixed on his rapidly moving fingers. I try not to startle him as I sit next to him on the stool, and I continue watching him, alternating between his hands and his face. At one point, he opens his eyes and notices my presence, but he doesn't falter once. His focus is even better than when he was climbing the wall.

  Too soon, his movements slow down, and the music comes to an end. He gently lifts his fingers and places them on his lap, twisting his face to look me in the eye.

  "What do you think?" he asks in a low voice.

  He must be feeling some of the residual effects of the trance, too.

  "That was amazing," I tell him honestly.

  Michael's smile is neither smug nor teasing. It's just happy. And for the first time since we moved here, so is mine.

  Chapter 17

  Michael

  "No way, man, Lorde rules," I counter.

  "You don't understand what she's talking about half the time," Logan protests.

  "She's ambiguous," I retort. "You have to look deep beneath the surface to get what she's saying." I dropped my expression into a mask of concern. "I'm sorry, that was insensitive; I know it takes a lot more effort on your part to understand something as complex as a seventeen year old's lyrics."

  He narrows his eyes at me and gently punches my shoulder. If he were any of my brothers, he would have tackled me to the ground by now. I think of how awkward that would be and thank my lucky stars that Logan Underwood is a much nicer person than my brothers and would never wrestle with me.

  It's been a week since he and I started becoming sort of friends. I've been coming to the pack house every day, and he was there most of the time. When it was just the two of us, we talked a lot about music, but we also discussed our families, childhood memories, and once even the weather. They were very normal conversations, but if you take into consideration the fact that we hadn't known each other that long, it's amazing that we fell into a normal friendship so quickly.

  More often than not, Sadie was also there, which means Cade was never far behind. By the fourth time I came over, we were quite a crowd hanging out in their living room. Even my brothers started tagging along after I told them how much fun it is, and then Jared, Sam, Tyler, Reena and Blake followed one by one. Reena's brother Jason never showed, though. I don't know why, but it doesn't really matter to me.

  During our group meetings, we spent most of our time either taking turns playing video games, or just goofing around in a way that's similar to how my brothers and I hang out. It's not mu
ch different from the way it feels around my family, as a matter of fact, because they are one, too. Most of them treat each other the way siblings do, except for those who are mates, of course.

  Sadie and Cade are always loved up on each other, and even Logan and Reena, who still have some unresolved issues, feel a need to squish together on an armchair and show some serious PDA that make my stomach churn. I mean do they really have to do that in front of us? It's kind of rude.

  "How very mature of you," Logan replies.

  Sadie giggles. "I thought it was funny."

  "You think anyone mocking me is funny," he retorts, though he says it with affection.

  She shrugs, neither denying nor confirming, and we fall back into conversation about music. Aside from my brothers, Logan and Sadie are the only people I'm willingly talking to. I'm still not comfortable around everyone else, but I can't expect Sadie and Logan to devote their usual pack 'hanging out' time for me.

  Luckily, although they're participating sometimes, the others are having their own side conversations, which makes it easier for me. However, Reena and Cade often asking for my friends' attention is a constant reminder that I am among some very awkward company.

  "What's your favorite song?" Sadie wants to know.

  I think about it for a moment before answering. "Of all time, probably For No One by The Beatles. But right now, it's Lorde's Glory and Gore."

  "Oh, I love that song," Sadie agrees with my choices.

  "That's actually one I can stand," Logan says with something resembling admiration, which makes me chuckle.

  After I played River Flows In You for him on the piano, we haven't been able to agree on anything music related again. Where he says hip-hop, I say jazz, and when he tries rock, I go for pop. It's still an ongoing argument on which genre, artist and song are better. We both realize it's probably not going anywhere, because music is taste. We're just having too much fun every time it comes up that we've started thinking up ridiculous arguments to amuse each other. Yesterday, I mentioned that I don't like rap because 'wiki-wiki' sounds like a clucking chicken.

  "My favorite song right now is Thrift Shop," Danny comments jokingly, making everyone laugh.

  One by one, they all say what their all-time favorite song is. I only care about hearing Sadie's and Logan's; Total Eclipse Of The Heart and Whiskey Lullaby respectively. Logan's choice makes me pause. I connect the dots back to the conversation about his mother. Even though the song doesn't completely correspond with Logan's parents' predicament, it's close enough.

  I'm brought out of my thoughts when Sadie asks me another question. "What about bands? What's your favorite band, Dylan?"

  "Hands down, The Scorpions," I immediately reply.

  "Oh that's right!" Danny enthuses. "I remember when you sang Wind of Change in the fifth grade talent show, and the whole crowd was so speechless that they forgot to clap for like five seconds."

  Mason and I shoot him warning looks, but it's too late.

  "You sing, too?" Logan asks with interest.

  That's something I haven't told him, for the very simple reason that I can't give him a demonstration, like I did with my piano skills.

  "Not since a very long time," I reply dryly, hoping to end the conversation with that.

  Sadie apparently doesn't get the message. "Whoa, that's so cool!" she yells. "Come on, let's hear something!"

  I glare at my twin, who bows his head in shame, and shake my head. "Nah, I'm not really that much into it anymore."

  "But I've never heard you sing," she complains. "And I didn't even know you did until now."

  I shrug. "So?"

  "Please?" she begs, making the word longer than it really is

  "Sadie, it's been years; my voice isn't even that good anymore," I lie.

  "So?" she throws back at me. "Logan is terrible but that doesn't stop him from singing nonstop in the shower."

  Everyone laughs at that declaration, and even Logan cracks a smile. The others then start talking about their own embarrassing habits and compete over who's the worst. Even my brothers join in on that conversation.

  I'm relieved that the spotlight isn't on me anymore. I'm about to tease Nathan for minimizing the extent of how much he sucks at air guitar when something happens that makes me jolt in surprise.

  Oh no, not now! I whine. How could I forget the date? This is so not the time for my body to remind me that I'm a girl!

  Just as think that it's a good thing no one's noticed yet, because it means I can think up a discreet excuse to leave, Sadie addresses me. "Come on, Dylan, can you please sing us a song?" she insists.

  I panic; I need to get out of there. "I said no, Sadie," I snap. "Can you please drop it?"

  She blanches, shocked that I would actually speak to her that way. I can't think about hurting her feelings right now, I just seriously need to get out of here before anyone with a strong sense of smell detects that something's wrong. This is the only thing I could think of in the spur of the moment.

  "I'm sorry, I just thought-"

  I cut her off. "I said no about three times," I retort. "Can you stop pushing me?"

  "Hey, lay off," Cade says threateningly.

  Without answering him, I stand up and storm out. I don't even think about what I'm doing nor do I listen when they start calling my name; I just run to the nearest bathroom and lock the door behind me. I scramble toward the toilet.

  "Shit," I mutter when my suspicions are confirmed.

  There's a knock on the door and I freeze. Then I get a whiff of his scent through the crack under the door, and I sag in relief.

  "Mickey, are you okay?" Mason asks through the door, sounding concerned.

  "No," I tell him desperately. "Mase, I have to go home."

  "Why? What's wrong?"

  I grimace; this is so uncomfortable. "Um, well..." I hesitate. "Is anyone with you?"

  "No, it's just me," he assures me.

  "Is anyone close enough to hear us?" I check again.

  "No, they're all downstairs, although they're really worried about you," he informs me. "Sadie wanted to check up on you, but Cade is pissed off because of how you talked to her and wouldn't let her."

  I take a deep breath, my panic building. "Mase, it's that time again," I tell him in a rush, hoping he hears it.

  "What time? What are you-?" he breaks off when he smells the blood. "Oh."

  "Yeah, oh."

  "Do you need the car?" he asks, immediately jumping into damage-control mode.

  "I think I'd prefer to slip out unnoticed," I admit.

  "All right. I'll make up an excuse and you leave through the window."

  I sigh in relief, incredibly grateful that he's the one who came after me and not any of the others. I don't wait a second longer before I unlock the bathroom door, crawl out the window, jump down two stories and take off running.

  By the time I get home, I'm sweating bullets, which aren't just from the exercise, and there's an undeniable blood stain on the back of my jeans. My parents look up from their respective work when I walk in, and their expressions are surprised.

  "Hey honey," Mom greets me. "I thought you were going to stay at the pack house until later tonight?"

  "Dylan," Dad says in a warning tone, catching the scent that Mom can't detect.

  I'm too out of breath to answer either of them, so I just turn around. Their sharp intake of breath lets me know that they got it.

  "Get cleaned up," Dad orders.

  Great, I think to myself. I am so going to hear about this later.

  I can picture it now; he's going to yell at me for being careless enough to forget to keep track of the days and putting myself in direct risk of exposure. And I'm right; that's exactly the speech I hear when I come back down after showering. My mom stands up for me, as usual, but she's still partly on his side, like always.

  My phone is taken away for a week and I'm not allowed to leave the house until it is over, which is going to take four days. They might want
me to stay home an extra day, too, as a precaution.

  I've never had to stay home at a time like this before, at least not under such circumstances. Then again, that's never been a problem because there's never been another pack ignorant of my secret until now.

  My punishment is actually a good thing, because now that I've upset Sadie, I've angered her pack members. If I see her, I'd have to face them, and then my secret would really be out.

  I just wish Dad hadn't taken my phone as well, because I want to at least call her and apologize. The idea of her being mad at me or hurt because of what I said makes me sick. Not to mention that the pack is now going to hate me for treating her that way. Whatever progress I made with Logan might be lost for good. I hope Sadie won't be holding a grudge when I see her again at school.

  My mood is lifted again when I wake up Monday morning and find a letter in the mailbox addressed to me from Berklee. It's sheer dumb luck that it arrived on this day, when all my family is out and I'm the only one able to receive the mail. I hadn't thought of that when I sent the applications, but I'm too excited right now to stop and reconsider.

  I run to my room without bothering to close the front door, since I'm home alone. Then I rip the envelope open like an excited little girl.

  The letter says that my application has been received but that it's still missing one component; I am required to send a video of myself displaying my talent before I can get either an interview or an audition.

  I smirk. "I know just what to give you," I tell the letter.

  Then I smack myself for being an idiot and talking to an inanimate object.

  Before I set up my camera and laptop, I check that my parents, Connor and Nathan are still at work, and my other brothers still at their respective classes. I adjust the camera so that it's focused on my upper body. Then, I take out my old keyboards, test the keys and sound out a little bit and then hit the record button on the camera. It takes a couple tries but I finally get it right in one take.

  "Hi," I say for the seventh time with a smile. "I'm Dylan Connolly, and this video is part of my application for Berklee. I'll be performing the first part of Glory And Gore by Lorde."