Nightwolf

I have to say, it feels good, really fucking good, just to be with Wolf here. To be far away from San Francisco, from the house, to remove ourselves from the versions of each other we know best and try to get to know each other like this. Like…people. As we sit there and talk and I munch away on my burger, I can trick myself into thinking we’re on a date. Just normal humans out on a little road trip, passing through. Living normal lives.

And for once, normal doesn’t seem so small and boring anymore. Not if Wolf is in it. In fact, with him, it feels shiny and new and just as mythical as vampires and Dark Eyes first felt to me.

Maybe my mom is wrong, I think. Maybe I don’t have to move on. Maybe the two of us can one day move on…together. Somewhere else. Somewhere normal.

But I know I’m only kidding myself.

When I’m done eating, we step outside the restaurant and take a moment on the sidewalk to get our bearings, a breeze ruffling my hair. Suddenly Wolf reaches out and tucks a wayward strand of hair behind my ear, a gesture brimming with such tenderness that it causes my stomach to do a backflip.

“Are you sure you don’t think of me any differently?” Wolf asks softly, peering down at me with those beautiful eyes, eyes that seem to hold more emotion than I was expecting.

I give him a shy smile and then beckon him with the crook of my finger for him to come closer to me.

He takes a step, looking intrigued, and then leans down. I stand up on my tip toes, my lips going to his ears, his crisp forest scent making my blood run hot.

“Not going to lie,” I whisper to him, “I like you even more now.”

He straightens up, and the look in his eyes is hard to read. He immediately looks down the street to the car, and I swear I just embarrassed him. Ha! That’s a first.

Something tells me that won’t be our only first on this trip.

Chapter 7

Amethyst

The drive from Garberville to the coast is about an hour through winding mountain passes flanked by towering redwoods. We don’t see many cars on the way, making me feel more and more isolated the further we go. With the daylight fading, I just hope we make it to the house before it gets dark. Wolf may have no trouble seeing in it, but I at least like to know where we’re going.

But eventually the trees open up and I start to see more sky and glimpses of the ocean over the tops of the redwoods below, everything glowing orange and gold with the coming sunset. We pull off the winding main road and start our descent. To my relief there are some houses around, though they all fade away when we approach a wooden gate that says “Dead Man’s Point” on it.

“Really?” I ask as Wolf slows the car. “That’s the name of this place?”

Wolf grins. “Well, he’s not going to flat-out call it Vampire’s Lair, is he?” He reaches across and opens the glove compartment and I breathe in the scent of his hair because I’m creepy like that. If he notices he doesn’t say anything and brings out a remote, pressing the button so that the gate swings open.

“Fancy,” I remark as we drive through.

Then I gasp.

As we come through another section of trees, suddenly the house appears before us, perched on what looks like the edge of the world. It’s a huge, sprawling place, surrounded by dry grass that moves in the breeze, shining in the sunset like liquid gold. They remind me of Wolf’s eyes. And beyond the estate is the ocean, that endless Pacific, with the sun heading for the horizon.

“Wow,” I say as we park the car. “I need to get a picture of this.”

I quickly grab my purse with my phone and get out of the car, running around the house to try and get the best view.

“We can make it to the beach if we hurry,” Wolf says, right beside me.

He reaches out and grabs my hand, holding it tight, then leads me down a stony path between the grass until we come to a cascading set of wooden stairs. It’s a long way down the cliff to the curve of beach below and the frothy waves that shine rose gold, but Wolf holds my hand the whole time.

I’m not sure if Wolf has ever held my hand before, not like this. Not with such a strong grip, not with such assurance.

And when we finally reach the bottom, our boots sinking into the soft sand, he doesn’t let go. He keeps holding on, his cool palm against my warm one, ice and fire, leading me to the middle of the beach until he seems certain that he’s found the best spot to take pictures.