Page 43 of The Crimson Wolf
I’m lost in the moment, but before Cameron’s lips meet mine, I speak. “But Jack…”
He pulls away, hurt and anger in his eyes. “Fuck, Jack.” He turns away from me, the veins in his neck bulging, and I reach out to grab him. “Wait,” I say.
“No. Seriously. Fuck him. All he’s been doing is filling your heads with lies, and it’s not like it’s his perspective or that he’s ignorant. He knows he’s lying. That crock of shit he told you about the attacks—your parents. I wonder what he would think if he knew the werewolf gene didn’t pass you by.”
“What do you mean he lied to me about my parents' murder? What happened?”
He stalks closer to me, anger radiating off of him. The sun rises behind him through the window, illuminating the hair growing down his arms. His teeth look more like fangs, and his eyes size me up as if I’m his next meal. I’ve always held fear for Cameron, but right now, my internal caution alarms warn me to back down. I step back, but he continues to move closer. “Would you even believe me if I told you?” He shakes his head before taking a deep breath and stepping back. “I can’t do this right now. You infuriate me, and the Blood Moon is too near. I don’t want to hurt you.” He takes colossal steps backward as if he’s afraid of me. “Stay in my room for the rest of the day. Take a shower. I’ll bring you food to the door, but I can’t see you until after night.”
“But…” I try to reach for him.
“No. Stop. I can’t,” he pinches the bridge of his nose as if I disgust him, as if the smell of me repulses him.
I lift my armpit. Shit. Maybe I should take a shower. I’m suddenly embarrassed. I’ve been so focused on escaping that I honestly didn’t give a fuck if I smelt good or not. Now, I feel differently for a whole slew of reasons I don’t want to dissect.
“Okay,” I say, turning toward his room. I can’t believe I’m willingly going back to my prison, but now that Iknow Cameron knows more, I don’t want to leave. I might also not want to leave due to the warm feeling racing to my core, but I’m now ignoring that part of myself. I need more from Cameron—in all ways possible. Tomorrow, I plan to finally learn the truth. I just need to survive this Blood Moon.
29
Binds
God, why didn’t I take advantage of Cameron’s shower sooner? I spend over an hour letting the hot water pelt my skin from the rain shower overhead while contemplating the last few hours' events. The steam calms my nerves, and when I step out of Cameron’s bathroom, attached to his bedroom, I feel like a new person.
There’s a knock at the door, and I hold his white fluffy towel around me as I crack it open. Cameron’s nowhere, but my eyes fall to the floor to find a pile of folded grey clothes and a plate of bacon and eggs. I stand in the doorway, questioning if I should heed Cameron’s orders about staying in his room all day or venture into the living space.I decide I still need more time alone, grab the items off the floor, and head back into the room.
I slip on the grey tank top and black biker shorts, trying not to spend too much brainpower wondering where Cameron got them from. Could they be left over from an ex? Why does the thought make me want to rip them off my body and burn his house to the ground? It must be a side effect of my new “powers” and the Blood Moon tonight; at least, that’s what I’m choosing to believe. It’s not like I can be jealous of Cameron having past lovers. He did yank off my clothes that reeked of Jack, a man I fucked just a few days ago.
God,my life is a mess.
I decide to focus my attention on my powers. I’m usually skeptical about the paranormal, but I’m starting to take Cameron at face value. Even though I hate to admit it, it seems to be the only plausible explanation for why I caused his injuries and the earthquakes that seem to follow my strong emotions. Maybe when he tells me the truth about my parents, I’ll actually believe him.
I work on lifting Cameron’s furniture to test my strength. I’m surprised that I can get his dresser off the ground a tiny bit without pulling a muscle, but my abilities don’t seem ground-breaking. I wouldn’t even place at a muscleman competition. Could I even call this sudden burst of strength a power? It just seems like I’m in bettershape. Maybe being near Cameron triggers the results. That’s the only time I’ve been able to do anything unexplainable or feel the buzz of energy running through my veins.
Looking at his bedside clock, I realize several hours have passed. I’m not tired even though I’ve exerted more energy than I have in a while, but I could go for something to eat. I press my ear against his door. I’m unsure if I hear Cameron, but it sounds like a wild animal struggling. Could other werewolves have come over? I open the door just enough to throw my voice. “Cameron?” I call.
“Don’t come out here.” He doesn’t sound the same, but I sense it’s him. I’m not sure if it’s his smell or something more. God, am I going to start sniffing butts soon? I fucking hate this werewolf shit.
“Stay in the room,” he says in a pained tone, chains rustling in the background.
“Are you okay?” A fear for his safety overtakes me, and I step into his living room. “What the fuck?” I exclaim as my eyes assess the scene before me. Cameron is chained to the wooden pillar in the far corner of his living room. He barely looks like himself anymore. Hair covers every inch of him, and his face is more animal than human. He’s shirtless, only wearing grey sweatpants. His muscled chest and torso still look human but enhanced—bulging with muscles.
His eyes catch mine, and he yelps. He struggles with his hands chained behind his back as if his body isn’t his own. “Get back in the room now.”
My heart beats rapidly, and my brain separates from my body. It’s like I can hear my blood thickening and pumping through my veins—a warm rush floods my core, and my skin prickles with goosebumps. My feet move on their own, bringing me closer to the beast. I have no idea what’s going on, but for some reason, seeing him like this, almost completely in his werewolf form, makes me want to drop to my knees before him. “Cameron,” I say breathlessly, moving closer to him. “What’s going on? Why do I feel this way?”
He throws his head back against the wooden pillar. “Fuck! Red, I told you to stay in your room. It’s the Blood Moon. I can’t control myself fully, especially not around you.”
“Well, I don’t think I can either.” I’m inches away from him now. I reach out my hand to touch his chest.
He hisses as if I’m branding him. “I thought this could happen. I’m sorry, Red. Just stop and go back to your room.”
I run my hands up and down his chest. The feel of him under my fingertips nearly sends me into a spiral. Energy surges through me. I lean into his ear and whisper. “I can’t,and I don’t want to.” I bring my lips to his furry skin, kissing down his neck.
He moans. “Fuck, Red.”
“I want you,” I say. I’m aware I’m not completely in control of my body. A part of me knows that if I tried hard enough, I could stop myself. There’s still an ounce of reserve in me where, if I focused all my energy, I could fling myself back into his room and stop this, but that’s the last thing I want to do. I’ve never thought I’d be so attracted to a monster, but seeing Cameron like this makes me want to fuck him until there’s nothing left of me.
I bring my lips to his, sliding my tongue over his bared fangs. He gives into me, and his tongue—much larger than normal––slides from his mouth and into mine. My hands wander over his body, feeling the rock-hard muscle under the coarse fur. I press myself against him, even as my hands trail lower and lower until I reach the waistband of his sweatpants.
