Vanilla Moon: Awakening

by Airiel Hawkins

"Hi," she replied with a bright voice and a toothy grin. "Sorry to just barge in on you like this, but I was wondering if we could have a chat? I feel like we got off on the wrong foot yesterday because you weren't expecting me to be who I am."

  You can't get off on a wrong foot if you don't get off, is what I wanted to say. Instead, I opened the door wider. If I was going to be in this town, I was going to have to be a part of this family. In turn, that meant that I was going to have to get along with the woman who believed she was my sister.

  She walked in and made herself at home at the breakfast table that sat right next to the window and its closed blinds. I followed her but stopped at the mini fridge. "Do you want water?" I asked as I pulled out a bottle for myself.

  She nodded. "That'd be great," she said with a smile. I pulled out a second bottle for her and shut the door of the fridge with my foot. I handed her a bottle as I sat down and took a long drink before either of us said anything.

  "You know, I'm sorry that Dad never told you about us," she said. The sound was sudden and alarming. I met her eyes and almost felt as though she was genuine in her statement. I could sense the lie though. She was glad I hadn't known. She was glad that she had something over me. I was older, even if only by a few months. I grew up with Alan, thus having the father she'd never known as a child. I was smarter, having graduated both high school and college early with honors. The only thing she had that made her superior to me was that she had known. I could also tell that if she and Addie had their way, I wouldn't be here. They didn't want me in town because it meant that the lives that Alan kept separated with such perfection were beginning to blur. They could have ignored my existence if they never met me. They could pretend that he wasn't married to another woman with another child in another town, if we stayed away. I had thrown a wrench into that well-oiled engine by showing up here. Now they had to acknowledge that I not only existed, but that my mother did as well. The fact that my mother now existed to them with no uncertainty meant they had to come to grips with the fact that Alan chose us. He chose New York. He chose to leave them behind.

  "It's not your place to be sorry," I said. "Alan made the choice to protect my mother and me from the truth and we live with that." I'd used the word 'protect' on purpose to gauge her reaction. If she thought that he was kinder to us by not telling us, maybe I could make her angry and make her not like me so that she'd leave me alone. It was a passive-aggressive trick, I know, but I thought it was worth a try.

  Something in her face tightened as the word 'protect' made its way around her head. Her green eyes narrowed on me and she tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "That's true," she agreed. She smiled at me and I knew she changed her mind. "I'm still sorry though."

  "Okay," I said with a shrug to let her know how much it didn't bother me that Alan kept the truth from us. I took a drink of my water and wondered if she even realized what kind of power play we had going on here. I couldn't think of a more awkward situation than the one we were in now. She was my stepsister on a technicality, and she wasn't even that anymore. I had no real connection to this woman aside from the fact that I had grown up with her father.

  "So, what's it like in New York?" she asked. "Is it like the movies?"

  "Alan never told you?" I asked. She shook her head. He did his best to keep the lives separated. I shrugged. "I guess. Lots of buildings. Lots of stuff to do no matter what time or day it is."

  "What was your house like?" she asked. "Dad said it was huge."

  "Well, it wasn't exactly a house per se," I said. "We had one of those fancy apartments where the entire floor was ours. Ours was at the top and actually took up three stories."

  "That sounds so glamorous," she said. I could hear the wistfulness and knew exactly how glamorous she thought it would be. "I wish I could go to New York...."

  I laughed. I shouldn't have, but I couldn't contain it. The simple thought of this backwoods country girl inside of my city... yeah. I shouldn't have laughed, especially judging by the look that she was giving me. "You'd get lost in three seconds," I said.

  "Really," she asked with doubt filling her voice.

  I nodded. "Easy," I replied. "Most of the streets look the same and no one is going to help you find your way. You wouldn't last."

  "I'd like to think that I could," she pouted. I wanted to laugh again, but this time I kept the impulse in check.

  "Think that all you want to," I said. "That doesn't make it true."

  She looked me over. She seemed to scrutinize my every detail. It was as if she was looking for herself in me. She seemed to notice the deliberate differences, the way I had. She saw the platinum blonde hair, near-black eyes, dentist-perfected teeth, and city-pale skin. When her gaze fixated on the back of my hand, I knew what she saw. I pulled up the sleeve of my sweater and her eyes widened.

  On the back of my wrist, going up my arm, I had a tattoo of thorny vines and roses. There was one rose for every person in my life that I had lost. There were four for my grandparents, one for my uncle, and three more for friends who had died in a car accident a few years back. I was no stranger to death and pain. Each time I lost someone, I felt like I was losing a part of myself.

  "How many tattoos do you have?" she asked.

  "A few," I replied, not wanting to give her an exact number. "I bet you don't have any."

  Abigail shook her head. "Of course not," she replied as though I was the one who was insane for asking. "Does it hurt?" she asked.

  I gave her that look you give someone when they ask you a stupid question. "No, it feels relaxing to have seventeen needles piercing your skin a thousand times per minute for four hours," I said.

  She nodded, as if that answer hadn't even occurred to her. "Oh," she whispered.

  I sighed and ran my hand through my loose hair. "Is there a reason you're here today?" I asked.

  She cleared her throat and looked at me with nervousness in her eyes. "Well, like I said, I thought we got off on the wrong foot last night and we should try to get along.... You know... since we are sisters...."

  I set my water down and folded my hands under my chin as I met her eyes without yielding. "Look, Abigail," I said in a stern voice, "we're not sisters. I don't know you. I hadn't met you until last night. I have spent less than an hour in your company in the entire time we have been alive. We may have the same father, but I define sisterhood based on my relationship and history with a woman. I left my sisters back in New York. If you want to get to know me first, do it because you want to and not because you feel an obligation. I'm not interested in an interrogation right now just because you want to play twenty questions to get to know me. If it's that important to you to be my best friend, do it gradually and, for the love of God, woman, give me time to adjust. I knew about you, but I didn't know who you were to me. You were always just 'Addie's daughter' and now you're also Alan's daughter. It's going to take me some time."

  Abigail stared at me as if I had crossed a line she didn't know existed. "How can you say something like that?" she demanded. "We share a father. I'm more your sister than anyone else in this world will be!"

  "We may have a genetic connection, but that does not mean I have to acknowledge it," I spat. "Get out of my motel room."

  Abigail stood and stared at me with cold eyes. "You have no idea what this family really is," she said. "I'd be careful about what you do and say if I were you."

  I stood and met her nose to nose. "You're not me," I replied. I could feel fury burning inside of me and all I wanted to do was smash her face into the floor and grind her flesh into the carpet. While a part of me found myself astonished at how violent the thought was, it wasn't the first time I'd had it. "You have five seconds to get the fuck out of here," I informed her.

  "For someone who graduated a year early as Valedictorian, you're an idiot," she snapped. She turned on her heel and made a beeline for the door without giving me a chance to wonder about what she'd said. I let her walk to her car and heard the door slam before I
even moved from my spot. I picked up her bottle of water and tossed it into the trash can. I sighed as I looked around my empty motel room. I replayed the conversation in my head, but I didn't even bother trying to make sense of it. I decided that I was going to go for a walk instead. I planned to be around for a while, so it was in my best interest to get to know my new town.

  Chapter 3 ~Wolfgang~

  I was ringing up an order when she walked into the diner. I heard the bell chime above the door and looked up to see her walk in. She had windswept blonde hair, a black pea coat, scarf, and a sweater as red as blood. Most of the patrons who came into the diner lived around here. Most of them were people I'd known since my parents and I moved here almost fifteen years ago. I had never seen her before, though she did have a striking resemblance to another person in town who I avoided at all costs.

  I finished passing back change to the elderly couple in front of me as she stepped up to me. "Hi," she said with a bright smile.

  I could feel the instant connection. I'd heard of people being able to recognize it upon meeting, but I'd thought it was the wishful thinking of hopeless romantics. I'd never believed in love at first sight. I never believed that I'd find my mate, especially not in a woman who looked like Abigail's long-lost sister.

  "Hi," I said, feeling as though I was in a dream. "What can I do for you?" Somehow, I had managed to remember that I was still at work even though the world had melted away into a white haze.

  She shrugged perfect shoulders as she unraveled her scarf from her neck. "I'm looking for lunch," she said with a flawless smile. "What's good here?"

  I chuckled but had no breath for the sound. My eyes locked onto her smooth, milky white skin and the pulse I could feel beating as fast as my own. I found myself overwhelmed by the scent of her. She smelled like a mix of chocolate and strawberries and, almost so faint that it was easy to lose, the musky scent of wolves. "It's all good here," I promised. "What are you in the mood for? We have just about everything a good ol', down-home, American, mom 'n pop place should have."

  "Fantastic!" she grinned. "I was hoping for something greasy and delicious."

  I smiled at her. "Is it just you today, or are you meeting someone here?" I asked, praying that she was alone and that I could take her into the bathroom and have my way with her, claim her, and make her never leave. My instincts were driving me wild. It took every ounce of self-control I could muster to not leap over the counter and take her in front of everyone.

  "Just me," she replied. "I'd rather avoid the people I'm in town to visit," she confessed.

  "How about you sit down right over here, and I'll be happy to help you," I suggested. I had to keep her close. I had to keep an eye on her. I had to make sure that no one else came near her. I needed her. I wouldn't be able to focus on anything until I had her. It was never so difficult to sit someone down at the bar.

  When she passed under the heater vent, I caught the scent of something that almost stopped me in my tracks. I wondered how I'd missed it when she first walked in. She smelled as though she had been in contact with Abigail today. She smelled of faint traces of herbs and incense. Based on the smell alone, I could tell that she hadn't touched Abigail, but she'd been very close to her.

  My mind went crazy looking for reasons for the two of them to be together. This woman wasn't a Witch. This woman was one of us. However, if she had been around Abigail, she was either a traitor, innocent, spelled, or blackmailed. If they were planning another attack on the pack, I needed to inform my father. I also needed to keep in mind that the scent of wolf was so faint that she could be an innocent.

  I handed her a menu and our fingers brushed. I had to close my eyes and bite the inside of my cheek to keep from growling. I was in trouble. I'd never expected it to be like this. The pain in my cheek helped clear my head a little. Long enough for me to let go of the menu and pull my hand away. I had no doubt that this woman was Lycan. I had no doubt that this woman was my mate. So why did she smell like them?

  She couldn't have known about it. Someone with as faint a scent as her would be at the very bottom of the totem pole and wouldn't come near to level that being my mate would require. I was too strong for a weak mate, and that would only weaken me as well as my ability to lead the pack in the future. If she was willing to throw herself into the Witch's lair, I could only assume that she didn't shift. Ever. They would never have let her live if they knew what she was. That meant that, for the time being, she was safe.

  She seemed to react to our touch as well. She froze, for a moment, before she cleared her throat and pulled the menu out of my hand. She flipped to the drinks and looked back up at me.

  "What'll it be?" I asked, forcing myself to focus on the situation. I had to keep reminding myself that I was at the diner and that I didn't know this girl. I had to remind myself that I couldn't just pull her over the counter, rip off those skintight jeans, and have my way with her. She didn't know me and if she didn't know that she was Lycan, I would only terrify her. I clenched my hand at my side, digging my nails into my palm. The pain was the only thing keeping me in the present.

  "Cola," she said. "No ice."

  I smiled at her and nodded. "Coming right up," I promised before I turned away from her, perhaps a bit faster than I should have. I went into the kitchen and grabbed a takeout bag on my way to the fountain. I filled it up with ice as I filled her drink and pressed it against my groin. The throbbing was growing painful and I needed something to calm me down.

  "You okay, man?"

  I looked at my best friend with amber eyes. I pressed myself against the soda machine, my head resting on my arm, the ice in my hand. I knew what I looked like. I was sweating, even though the temperature in here wasn't hot enough to affect me. Luke took a step back and I smelled the sudden fear come from him. Something in the way I looked at him scared him and I didn't have enough sense of mind to figure out what. "What the fuck do you think?" I asked.

  "I think you're about to explode," Luke said.

  I nodded.

  "What happened?" he asked.

  "My mate just walked through the door," I said. I realized I was panting. The throbbing wasn't going away. Luke looked through the serving window and I started to growl. He looked back at me in shock. "Stay the fuck away from her," I ordered with a voice that was more of a growl.

  Luke took another step away from me with his hands in the air. "You know I don't mean anything by it," he said. "She's all yours."

  I growled again and he retreated. I saw him talking to another man who looked at me. I recognized him as a mated man and therefore not a threat. He nodded to Luke and patted him on the back before he walked up to me. I growled again, and it was completely involuntary.

  "Wolfgang," he said, holding his hands up, palms facing me in a gesture of innocence. "I think you need to get out of here," he said. "You need to find a way to get her to go home with you before you hurt yourself or anyone else."

  I growled again. Had I forgotten how to speak? The only thing I could think of was that woman and the things I wanted to do to her. I craved nothing more than to claim her as mine and show that claim to the rest of the world, just so they would know that she wasn't available. I needed to claim her.

  "I will call your father."

  The statement made me stop and blink at him. It was a slow blink, purposeful. I took in a breath.

  He nodded at me. His face made me think the name David. This man was David. Thoughts were coming back to me. "Good," he said. I stared at him a moment longer. "Do you need someone else to serve her?" he asked.

  I shook my head. "No," I whispered. "Someone else serves her and they'll die because I can't control myself right now," I said.

  David nodded. "You're making sense now," he said. "You have to maintain focus. You're young, so this is a lot harder on you. It's never easy when you encounter your mate for the first time. You are Volsunga, Wolfgang. You cannot afford the luxury of giving into your instincts."

  I no
dded and swallowed the lump in my throat. My heart was still pounding in my head and the world around me was still fuzzy, but I knew where I was and what I had to do. I put the ice down and picked up her soda. I took in a deep breath and walked back out of the server's station. Once I reached the bar, I realized I was struggling again, so I clenched my fist until I bled. I could smell that I'd broken the skin, but I needed the pain.

  I set her drink down and smiled. "Know what you want?" I asked.

  She smiled as she nodded at me. "Chicken strips and fries," she said. Gods, she had a smile that was divine...

  I walked back to the serving window and wrote down her order before putting it up on the turnstile. I couldn't let her see my hand, so I hadn't written it down while I was next to her. I rinsed the blood off my hand and saw that the wounds had already healed. Since they weren't silver wounds, I wasn't surprised that they were gone.

  I kept myself away from her while I waited for her order to cook, but she was never out from my sight. Every time I felt my control start slipping, I dug my nails into my palms to clear my head. I could not lose control. Not here.

  I heard the bell ring twice and that was my cue. I picked up her order and set the basket down in front of her. My head didn't have the forethought for any of my other duties, so I trusted the staff around me to pick up the slack. Everyone who worked here was Lycan. They knew what had just happened. I pretended to busy myself with cleaning glasses and wiping down the counter. While I did that, I decided that I needed to try my hand at being charming.

  "So, when did you get into town?" I asked.

  "Is it that obvious?" she chuckled.

  I grinned at her. "Considering that the only people who come in here are the same people who have been coming in here for twenty years, yes," I replied. "My name is Wolfgang, by the way," I said.

  "Ceres," she said. The sound of her name captivated me. It was just as beautiful as she was. "I got in last night," she continued, answering my question. "I'm here to help my ex stepfather and his wife with a legal dispute."