Entwined Destinies (4 page)

“Maybe I should start playing hard to get if I’m that easy,” Mason says.

“I’m glad you were that easy. I missed you too much. You might have been able to wait, but I couldn’t.”

That part is true. Mason adjusts the hair off my face.

“Then what happened just now? You were there one moment and gone the next. The berries might have helped, but they couldn’t have been enough. You must be starving.”

“I’m sure that’s all it is,” I say, trying to put Mason at ease.

“You asked me how Sylvia scared off the werewolf that bit me, the moment you woke up. Where did that come from?”

“It popped into my head. Random thought. Probably just a detail rolling around in my head since you told me your story.”

I leave the question open. Wait to see if he’ll address it or deflect the subject. He must sense my interest.

“I was seriously out of it, Jess, but I remember how upset she got, swinging a branch at a werewolf. She could have run, but didn’t. She protected me.”

“Did Sylvia ever talk about it afterward?”

“Not really, beyond saying that it was a blur for her as well. I’ve never seen her like that. Totally unhinged. Sylvia didn’t have a chance against that creature, but she stood her ground and defended me. I’ll always remember that.”

I nod, taking it all in. My vision of Sylvia with a red-eyed wolf is a confusing one. I still don’t know what to make of it. Definitely worth pondering more, but not now.

“Pay me no mind. I was just wondering. Like I said, some thoughts pop into my mind out of nowhere. Take me home? I could really use a proper meal, and a shower.”

“Let me fetch your clothes.”

Mason does. Not only that, but he dresses me as well. I feel like a rag doll, but I like how he takes care of me. For all his feral behavior, I missed his gentleness too.

“What are we going to do about your clothes?” I ask.

“My car is nearby. I keep a spare set in the trunk.”

“Of course. This wouldn’t be your first time in the wild.”

He slips his arms under my body and picks me up off the ground. It makes me feel like wounded bird cupped in his hands.

Mason is actually parked quite a ways off for what I consider
nearby
. Despite the length of time we spend walking, he doesn’t strain once with my weight. I feel safe in his arms. So much that I could almost fall asleep.

I must have dozed off, because I wake up in the front seat of his car. It’s an old Mustang with leather interior. I remember the year, 1969, for obvious reasons. Mason is already driving when my eyes open.

I sit up and look around groggily, trying to get my bearings. I recognize the back road he’s driving along. We’re almost back at my place.

“How long was I out?”

“Not long.”

“I’ve never been in your car before,” I say, as the realization dawns on me.

“This car and I have put in a lot of mileage together,” Mason says matter-of-factly.

He looks like he’s about to say something else, but then stops, and keeps looking at the road instead. I touch his arm lightly with my fingertips. He glances at my hand, then back at the road.

I want him to tell me whatever it is that makes him sad, but when he’s ready. As usual, that turns out to be sooner rather than later.

“I was a few states away when I turned around and drove back here. I couldn’t keep going, but that awareness hit me like a hammer. I knew where I had to be suddenly. I’ve never felt anything with such clarity before. I spun Fancy around and floored it back here. I don’t think her wheels actually touched the ground after that. What had taken me days to drive I covered in a fraction of that time. I slept once in the car. Pulled over, fell asleep, woke up, and then kept going. My one and only thought was of you. To be with you again. I retraced my route all the way back here.”

I look at Mason in astonishment.

He went through all the motions that Sylvia warned me about. He fled at the first sign of trouble, just like she said he would. The moment he felt like our relationship might have soured, he bolted. No hesitation. No looking back.

It didn’t matter whether the problem was real or imagined. He just left. Except he didn’t keep going this time. He stopped himself. Mason faced his fear and chose me instead of his old habits.

The realization sinks in all at once, but even so, it’s still not the first thing that comes out of my mouth.

“You named your car
Fancy
?”

Mason smirks.

“Yes, I named my car Fancy, because that’s what she is. Fancy. Have you ever seen a more beautiful Mustang? I think not.”

“Sure, but Fancy? I mean, maybe that’s what you name a pouty-lipped Southern belle from a trashy romance novel. But a Mustang? No no no. This car is a more of a Dayton… or a Magnus.”

Mason pats the dashboard of his car.

“Don’t listen to her, Fancy. The pretty lady is still delirious with hunger. Also, I think she may be confusing Fancy with
Jessica
.”

I react with mock indignation.

“Mr. Boone! I do declare! I daresay you mean to disparage my good name and see it dragged through the mud!”

Mason laughs. I keep going.

“Indeed, if your goal is to see me prostrated in the peach orchard, among the daffodils and honeysuckle, to keep you from savaging my sterling reputation, I might be amenable to your way of thinking.”

“Now you’re just giving me ideas.”

“Maybe a little,” I say with a sly smile.

“You fell into that monologue pretty easily. Are you actually from the South? I’m never asked.”

“Yes, but I lost the accent years ago.”

Mason smiles and wipes a laughter tear from his eye.

“It couldn’t have been that long ago, so feel free to talk however you want around me. Whatever makes you feel the most like yourself.”

“I do,” I say.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Mason interjects. “I’ve never felt more powerfully motivated to be somewhere as I did driving back to you. That’s new for me. I… I was wrong to leave the way I did.”

I have no idea how long he was gone. I knew days were passing, but I couldn’t even say exactly how many without looking at a calendar. All my time was spent painting.

“I’ve been hesitant in the past to give relationships a fair chance,” he says. “I’m afraid to see them through because of what they might become. Or not become. I’m afraid of the disappointment, Jess. Especially after somebody gets even a
hint
of what I am.

“But not you. You found out what I am and hit the ground running. I was so excited. My heart soared. I’ve mostly come to terms with myself, but I never imagined somebody else would. I certainly didn’t think that somebody like you, a normal person, would accept me.”

I bite my tongue at the
normal person
part and keep listening. I understand the spirit in which it was intended.

“But then you found out about Sylvia, and I could tell right away that it was upsetting for you. You shut down. I can’t tell you how painful that was for me. Such a high and low, all in the span of one night.

“I didn’t know how to deal with those conflicting emotions. To feel so close to you one moment, to have everything I’ve ever wanted, only to have it taken away from me the next. At least, that’s what it felt like.”

Oh, Mason, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to put you through that much turmoil. Why are you even here right now?

I reach up and scratch his neck affectionately.

“I just needed time,” I tell him.

“I know. That’s fair. I guess it just took me driving across several
states
to figure that out.”

“Maybe you just needed to take me for a drive in Fancy. I’ve never heard you talk about your feelings with such clarity before. Thank you.”

Mason actually blushes. I lean over and smash a kiss into his cheek. He’s smiling again when I pull away.

That’s when we pull up in front of my place. I look around, half expecting the local sheriff to be parked outside. The way Mason described splintering my front doors, the downstairs neighbors might think the place was burgled. Something like that is considered a big deal in this community.

“Let me get the door for you,” he says.

Mason steps out of the car and comes around to my side. I look up at my apartment as he opens the door for me. Something is different. I can’t put my finger on it. My mind is still kind of thick. It feels like I’m forgetting something.

“Mason, when you found me, did you notice anything unusual about my place?”

He thinks back to the previous night and shakes his head after a moment.

“Not really, no. Then again, I really wasn’t paying attention. The change was on me. My pendant was the only thing keeping me human. When I saw you on the floor, nothing else mattered after that.”

“How did you find me? You said I was passed out on the floor, but where exactly?”

“By the window where you paint. Nowhere near your bed. Your easel was pushed over, like you grabbed it falling down. I think there were quite a few canvases lying around, but I didn’t look at them. I was more concerned about you. I shook you a little and then slapped your face lightly, but you weren’t waking up.”

“Wow. I don’t remember any of that,” I say.

“You needed something to eat, but I could smell that the food in your fridge had gone off. That’s when I made the decision to bring you with me. It was very spur of the moment. The pain of keeping my human shape was overwhelming at that point. So I draped you over my back, switched the pendant from my neck to yours, and shifted. I trusted that I wouldn’t hurt you. It felt like a better idea than simply leaving you there.”

I squeeze his hand.

Mason based that decision on a lie I told him. He would have hurt me when he shifted during sex, if not for the spell I cast to protect myself. The spell I can’t tell him anything about.

Except this time Mason changed completely. Not just into a half-man, half-wolf, but into a full wolf. Maybe there really is a part of him that won’t hurt me. Or maybe his silver necklace protected me. I have no way of knowing.

“I’m glad you took me with you,” I tell him.

As we walk toward the downstairs door that leads up to my front door, I’m prepared to see a splintered mess of tinder and wood. What I find is nothing of the sort. The door is perfectly intact.

“Wait? Did you burst through this door? Or the one upstairs?”

Mason looks no less confused than me. He walks up to the door and brushes his hand along the surface.

“No, it was this one. The next one as well. I could swear they broke apart as I moved through them. I mean, I didn’t look back or anything, but I remember feeling it buckle and splinter.”

I look at the door more closely. It’s the same door. All the little nicks and scratches are still there, like the smudges of dirt from my bicycle tire.

I check the handle. It’s unlocked. That’s unusual, but no less than a broken door restored to one piece.

I don’t have my keys on me, so I count myself lucky for now. I really do want to wash up and eat something substantial.

I turn the handle, open the door, and look up. The next door is intact as well. Mason grips my arm and stops me from taking another step.

“Somebody’s here,” he whispers.

“Where?” I ask.

“In your apartment.” Mason inhales deeply. “I don’t recognize the scent.”

“Are you sure? It’s not one of the neighbors from downstairs snooping around? The door was unlocked, after all.”

“No. I can hear your neighbors. They’re still asleep. This person isn’t making a sound, but I can smell her.”

Her
. That’s when the feeling I’ve been having starts to make sense. The sense of familiarity when we pulled up. I don’t have time to explain.

“I need you to wait here,” I tell him.

He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“That’s not going to happen.”

The look on Mason’s face is stern, primal, and protective. Utterly unyielding.

“Fine, but let me go first,” I say.

“You’re in no shape to—”

“Let me go first,” I repeat.

I use my authoritative voice. I’ve never used it on Mason before. It’s not a spell, but a practiced way of speaking. It lets Mason know that he can’t rationalize with me.

After a second of studying my face, he nods.

We walk up the stairs together. He’s practically hovering behind me the whole time. Every muscle in his body is tensed and ready to pounce.

The front door of my apartment is ajar. I push it open. That’s when I see her standing in the center of my living room. No guile. No subterfuge. She’s waiting for us to arrive, utterly confident in herself, just like always. Her eyes lock on mine.

“Hello, Jessica,” Candice says. “Sorry it took me so long to check on you.”

I reach back and place a hand on Mason’s shoulder. His entire body is warm, ready to strike.

“Mason, this is Candice.
A very good friend of mine
. Candice, this is Mason.”

She lazily fixes a cool stare at Mason, challenging him with her eyes.

Candice is probably one of the tallest women I’ve ever known. Her long blonde hair is tied back in thin braids around the crown of her head. Scandinavian. All business today. Candice is not her real name, but the one she’s used for the entire time I’ve known her. She’s dressed conservatively in a full-length dress, but with a leather belt.

“Do your friends always invite themselves into your place?” Mason asks.

I turn around and face him defiantly.

“My very good friends do, yes. Especially when they’re concerned about me. That’s why we all have keys to each other’s places,” I say firmly.

Mason has no idea how much danger he is in right now. This woman has fought trolls with little more than a sword and shield.

Mason looks at me, then back at Candice, then back at me. I want him to calm down, but it’s not going well. He’s breathing heavily, ready for a fight. He senses the threat that Candice represents.

I touch the front of his heaving chest. Something’s missing. He’s not wearing the pendant. I am.

His eyes are beginning to turn canine, which isn’t good. Not even remotely good.