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“Thank you again, Alexandre,” I called as I hung my apron in the back room hurriedly. I rushed to grab my jacket, speeding my way through the café and past the register, from behind which Alexandre waved.

“No problem! I’m getting the half hour pay anyways, so there’s no reason to thank me really.” He blew a kiss, and I barely heard him in my rush enough to glance back and smile. Then I was out the door, ignoring the painful itch that the mild sunlight caused on my skin. The many people on the sidewalk created a wall of uncomfortable heat that I pressed against to reach my destination. The clock back in the café had read two pm, so I could probably make it in time if I went straight there.

“Hey.” Ivan appeared out of nowhere before me. Though startled, I smiled at him and continued on, causing him to speed-walk after me. “I was just coming to get you. Why’d you leave early? You seem to be in a rush.” The question held a jealous ring behind it.

I swallowed thickly, working in my head how to tell him my plans and have him still let me go through with them. “Well…” I tried to remain relaxed, to be calm and collected. “One of my neighbours up the street a few houses is the brother of a widowed marine, who died in Afghanistan four years ago. The soldier’s daughter was therefore sent to live with her uncle, as she is only 14 years of age.” A man in a hurry pushed me so roughly that I nearly tumbled backward, had Ivan not caught me. His angry growl reverberated through my body and I could feel his intense frown. However the man this negativity was directed at had long been reabsorbed into the crowd. I smiled gratefully at Ivan (though fear coursed through me when I saw the death glare his brown eyes sent my “attacker”), regained my balance, and engaged again in my mission. “This uncle, a Mr. Benjamin Whitaker, I believe to be rather physically abusive. After seeing his niece walk to and from home with dark bruises and sometimes even a severe limp, I befriended her at the library, where she spends most of her free time. Since then, I visit Mr. Whitaker just about every day at 2:30, when Anya walks home from school, so that she may enter the house through the back door without attracting attention. This is, of course, after she has visited my house for food. You see, sometimes he-“

“Vincent.”

The tone of his voice sounded quite decisive. Final. It indicated that if I turned around to face him, I would be told not to go. And there would be nothing I could do to alter the situation. So I didn’t dare turn around, only answered, “Yes Ivan?”

His hand gripped my right shoulder firmly. We were quite close to my destination now. In my mind I debated whether or not to just run the rest of the way, but I forced my instincts down: werewolves love a chase, and an angry werewolf is no different. He turned me around. When I looked up, I was surprised and afraid to see that his eyes glinted a deep gold colour, already staring at me with a hard glare. His voice, however, was of an entirely different demeanor. “Please don’t run from me,” he whispered, his throat constricting in concentration. I guess he must have felt my urge to flee. “I don’t want to hurt you or scare you.”

I was startled out of my shock when my skin began to burn horribly, causing me to wince and shield my face from the sun. The very solid support of an equally solid body wrapped around me to block most of the light, until I felt the shade of a tree. He released me from his hold, looking very concerned. “Are you OK?”

I nodded, rubbing at the reddened skin of my arms. The pain in my back told me to expect another large burn there as well. I breathed deeply in an attempt to stop the pounding of my head. “Please allow me to visit him,” I managed in between pants. “She will try to go home only to find that her father is waiting to hurt her. She is depending on me to distract him.”

He closed his eyes a moment, sighing out his nose. When he reopened them, they returned to their natural bark-brown. He scratched his head as he thought. “He’s never hurt you?” he questioned. I shook my head. “What do you say every time that keeps him occupied?”

Here I shrug, because in truth it varies tremendously. But they all share a theme. I rubbed my arm uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. “Please understand that I had no knowledge of a mate,” I said steadily. His muscles visibly tensed, reminding me of his outburst in the car when I had hinted at having a significant other. Hamir told me once long ago how possessive wolfmen could be of their mates, and how this possessiveness encouraged or induced violence and emotional instability. I quickly elaborated before his anger could grow. “Our romantic endeavors never exceeded-“

“’Romantic endeavors’?” he seethed through his teeth.

“-they never exceeded anything more than curious glances or farce intention on my part that never left his front porch, or meetings in public places such as a store or the café.” I played with my knuckles, wondering what time it was and how long before Anya arrived home. The image of her broken lip and bruised back rose to the surface of my mind, causing me to flinch. I racked my brain for some way to convince him to let me go. “Please, I’m begging you as my mate.” Here his angry eyes landed back on me, their fume calming a little at my request. “Please let me go. You could wait around the side of the house, listen for anything inappropriate happening.” I’m not exactly sure what he was thinking of, but from his livid expression it must have been quite vulgar. “In truth, I am almost offended at how low you seem to believe I hold my own dignity,” I mumbled under my breath. Do I appear a whore in his eyes?

He shook his head and rubbed his temple frustratedly. “I didn’t mean it like that. Just… I just don’t like the idea of you… of you doing anything weird with anyone. Anyone other than me, that is.” Here he gave me one of the most flirtatious smiles I’ve ever received, eyebrows raised and eyes holding a mischievous glint. I was, internally, very flustered. I assume my face must have been blank, though, because he grinned wider, asking what I was thinking about.

Honesty popped out of my mouth before I really thought it through. “That my mate may be somewhat bipolar.”

He burst into laughter and hugged me tight. I smiled into his chest, a little relieved that his newly-discovered bipolar nature had not released its wrath on my statement. He pulled back from me and reverted to a little of the seriousness he previously had, gripping my shoulders with a protective hold. “I’m gonna be waiting right around the side. You’re gonna be able to see me the whole time. And I’m sure as Hell gonna be watching you the whole time. You need me, you just give the signal, OK? I love you, OK?” He leaned down to my face, hesitated, and gently pecked my forehead before yanking me back down the street. “Which house is it?”

I pointed to the house two away from us. “That’s the house. I hope she hasn’t already gone home.” He pushed me down the last bit of sidewalk and up the steps before sliding behind the bush in front of the window. All that could be seen was a mop of brown hair and his dark brown eyes peering over the shrubbery. He blew me a kiss just before I knocked, doing that weird eyebrow thing that made me laugh at his surprisingly adorable personality.

Seconds later, the door opened to a well-built, crew-cut man in his early 40’s, a grizzly stubble of beard and mustache overtaking most of his tanned and hardened face. His eyes, though dark, were not at all like Ivan’s. Instead they were a piercing near-black, cold and emotionless. They lit up with something when they saw me and he cracked a smile. “Vincent,” he said, his voice gruff but pleasant. He must have just been up from the gym he tells me he’s set up in the basement, because he is dressed in a pair of running shorts and wears no shirt. I avoid gazing below his face and also Ivan’s eyes, which I felt boring holes into me. “I’m sorry about my appearance.” He gestured to his sweaty self, but I dared not glance down for fear of Ivan jumping the poor man. “What brings you to my door yet again?”

I smiled sweetly, reaching deep into my coat pocket to pull out a mason jar of coffee. “This is a new blend from the café that the manager is trying. I supposed, before it was placed on the menu, that you might want to taste-test it.”

He reached out and took it from me slowly, his hand lingering just a moment too long on my own. I swear Ivan’s rage caused the whole bush to shudder. Luckily Mr. Whitaker took no notice. “Thank you, Vincent. I’d be happy to let you know how it is. Better yet, maybe you could join me for a cup sometime.” He took a small step closer to me, just outside the doorway. It was a little too close for my liking, the heat starting to affect my already damaged skin.

“I would love too.” I sent my biggest smile. “Right now, however, I have to prepare for a small party to which a close friend has invited me.” This was not entirely a lie, but with my acute hearing Ivan’s growl at being referred to merely as “friend” was heard loud and clear. “I’ll see you soon, Mr. Whitaker,” I smiled and waved to him.

He, however, took my hand in his to shake it instead, keeping a firm grip for slightly longer than I deemed necessary… I felt my flesh heating up at the exposed contact, but endured it for the sake of being polite. This is when I heard another door within the house creak closed quietly, letting me know that Anya had safely made it inside. My smile involuntarily widened. Thank God! “See you soon, Vincent.” His voice brought me back to the situation at hand, our hands still connected and his eyes on mine. “And please, no formality. Just call me Ben.”

I nodded and promised to do so from now on- though just out of habit I had forgotten to multiple times. He closed the door after watching me walk down the steps, and immediately Ivan was by my side to block the sun from access to my skin. “That was a lot more touchy than I liked it to be,” he muttered, pulling me under one arm. “You didn’t tell me how handsy that jerk is.”

I shook my head, about to tell him that there was nothing overly “handsy”, as he put it, about the interaction between myself and Mr. Whitaker. Then I realized he would most likely not see sense anyways, so why waste oxygen on this argument? “Ivan…” I’m not sure what I planned on saying, but the party tonight came to mind. I was a little frightened of being the only vampire in the presence of multiple wolfmen, even if one of them happens to be a friend. The last time that happened, I was almost decapitated.

We stood before my own front door. I glanced up apologetically as I fumbled with the key in my pocket before unlocking it and pushing it open. The house was empty, both Hamir and Jacob out for the day. I motioned to the couch and headed to the stairs, but stopped when I heard him following me. He raised a brow at me questioningly as I looked between him and my room. It hasn’t been dusted since Harim bought this house, and it’s an absolute mess of books and plants. “My room is rather small and very messy at the moment. I should have cleaned it after you told me we were mates, because it’s only natural to assume you and I would be spending more personal time together, but I just haven’t found the time to fix it-“

“Vincent.” He interrupted my nervous babbling with a reassuring smile. “I don’t care how your room looks. I just want to see where my mate’s been this whole time without me. Mine’s probably worse anyways.”

I laughed the tension away, but shook my head. “We’ll see.” So I led him down the flight of stairs to the basement, the last door on the right. I clicked the door open, my eyes adjusting to the dark. The lamp I flicked on illuminated the dust particles making up about 50% of the air in the room I call my own. The bed was barely visible under the piles and piles of books, between which were little paths leading all over the room like a mole had dug through them. I picked my way to the closet, where I shuffled aimlessly through the numerous clothes I had gathered over the years and what Jacob had bought for me, insisting I had to keep up with the times. So there were quite a few clothes to choose from, all from different time periods, and I had no idea what to choose.

I looked back when I heard him release a violent sneeze. He rubbed his nose and inspected the room curiously. “You like to read?”

I laughed and turned back to my closet, picking a random outfit and hoping for the best. After shooing him out of the room and changing, I exited and met Ivan in the living room. By the approving look on his face, my clothing choice was acceptable. We left the house after I locked the door. My nerves shot up when I realized how dangerous this would be for me. “Ivan,” I said while following him down the sidewalk.

He stopped to look at me, his brow raised in a silent question. “Please don’t leave me tonight,” I whispered, fiddling with my knuckles.

He grasped my hand lightly and smiled. “Not for a second. I’m glad to hear my gorgeous mate wants me so bad.” He winked at me and led me beside him as we started walking again, nudging me playfully with a shoulder.

I sighed dramatically, entwining my fingers into the heat of his. “It depresses me that I am severely genetically compatible with a pervert.”

“Hey!”