chitchat. Typical postgraduate stuff.
Because she was no longer herself.
Or so Rena and Michael kept telling her.
Concentrating was difficult when there were monsters all around, and when a person’s eternal flame could be choked out so quickly. When this life do-over had turned out to be a doozy.
However bad things were, she was determined to try to cope. She would handle this, because there was no alternative.
Remaining optimistic proved to be tough, though. In the hallway, Kaitlin focused on avoiding others and keeping to the sidelines, not sure she could actually carry on a conversation or if the students she passed would know she was different. Was she different? She had only Michael’s and Rena’s word for that.
By the time she was halfway through the main university building, odd things were happening. Inexplicable things. Smells, scents and fragrances were suddenly overwhelming and more of an affront to her senses. Polish on the floors gave off a sweet, sticky odor. Scuff marks from black-soled shoes smelled like burned rubber. Paper stuck to bulletin boards made her eyes water.
Crowds of people huddled in the corners, amplifying the odors of damp clothes, hair gel, fabric dyes and perfume. Passing the cafeteria was a big mistake. Although she was hungry again, almost ravenous, the smell of overcooked pizza sickened her.
She wanted to escape, hide, get away, and didn’t know where to go or how to outdistance the waves of panic that stuck to her like shadows. She had to wait to see Michael again.
New self. Changes. Don’t go out after dark.
She chewed her fingernails in frustration and chose a secluded seat in the back of the library, though she was certain there was no way to work on her thesis. No one gave her a second glance or turned around to stare.
The tick of the wall clock drove her mad. Fighting every agonizingly slow minute, Kaitlin waded through the hours like a sinking swimmer, finding it harder and harder to breathe when beyond the library walls she could feel him. Michael. Somewhere close.
Thoughts of Michael made her muscles dance with anticipation. The leftover pressure of his talented mouth brought far too much heat. She looked up werewolves online on her laptop, shuddering as she read lines of a story labeled as myth. She grew more and more restless as the afternoon dragged on. Forgoing her work, she drew pictures of wolves on her notebook and tried to remember the shape of Michael’s eyes.
When the clock chimed five, she raced through crowds of students having a normal day, wondering how they could be so oblivious to events unfolding around them. Almost at the exit, she skidded to a stop near a bunch of people gathered outside a closed classroom door. Taped to that door was a note.
“Class canceled due to instructor illness.”
Her fear turned major. What if that missing teacher had also been some fanged monster’s prey?
Her legs began to shake uncontrollably.
Going to be sick. Need to get out.
Taking in ragged breaths of stale air, Kaitlin slumped against the wall with her head in her hands. After several long minutes she was able to again stand upright, and then only because there were answers to find and truths to sort out.
“Come hell or high water...” She reached for the neck of the sweater that hid what a stranger named Rena had called her “war wound” and finished the statement. “I’m going to find out what the hell is going on.”
* * *
Michael paced from tree to tree, sure Kaitlin would show up, though he wouldn’t have blamed her if she didn’t.
He hadn’t meant to kiss her. Hadn’t realized he was kissing her until she stopped him. Now she’d have the wrong impression of this meeting and what he wanted her to get out of it. She might assume this to be an invitation to a rendezvous. If so, she would be dead wrong.
Kissing wasn’t on his agenda.
Touching her was out of the question.
He set that firmly in his mind and stopped pacing twenty feet from the spot where Kaitlin had nearly lost her life, thinking that she would indeed have to be tough to return here so soon.
Making her confront her new direction in life was part of his plan and an important first step in helping her to face the truth. Hopefully, eventually, she would get past being afraid of the unknown.
For the time being, she needed guidance. After tonight, he was determined to turn her over to Rena. Females were so much better than males at dealing with personal issues, whatever species they belonged to. Some kind of innate nurturing thing had been twisted into female DNA.
That’s what he told himself, anyway.
Rena wasn’t exactly softhearted, but she would step up to the plate if he asked her to. He knew Rena harbored a lust for him that the she-wolf never fully kept hidden, but he considered Rena family. She wasn’t the new rusty-haired human-wolf hybrid that his wolf craved in some strange and inexplicable way.
Rena was intuitive. She would see this. Although Rena wouldn’t think much of what he’d done to save Kaitlin, the she-wolf would never purposefully harm anyone who didn’t deserve it.
So. Hell. Why had he done what he had done, exactly? Why had he helped a human being? Chance? Coincidence? Serendipity?
Humans had not given this same kind of consideration to his family. After hunting his mother, they shot her, did terrible things to her body and then dragged her off. Illicit game hunters in on the secret existence of werewolves had hoped for a pricey black-market pelt, but hadn’t gotten their wish. His mother, also able to shape-shift at will, had robbed them of that last detail.
Michael scanned the lawn. With his sensitive hearing mechanisms on alert, he experienced an anticipatory spike in pulse rate. But it wasn’t Kaitlin who approached.
“I get it, Michael.” Rena effortlessly covered ground on long, shapely legs.
“What do you get?”
“She’s different.”
He nodded. “You noticed.”
“I wonder what it is, though.” Rena stopped beside him with her hands stuffed into the pockets of her jeans, and looked up at him. “What are you going to do with her?”
“I suppose that depends on how she turns out.”
“How bad was it for her? I know you wouldn’t do this unless it was absolutely necessary.”
“There wasn’t much to save,” he replied.
Rena sniffed the air. “Whatever happened to her happened near here? Some of her scent lingers.”
“Rogue vamp,” Michael said. “Possibly only days old.”
“Damn things are getting bolder. That’s the second attack in a week.” Rena nailed him with a shrewd stare. “Why did you do it?”
“I suppose I felt sorry for her.”
Rena’s
