Chapter 3 An Unsettling Reality

I swiftly sit up, my back reposed on the plush cushions, and then I attempt to swing my legs over the edge.

Before I succeed in dumping my feet on the floor, though, he catches my legs and places them back on the couch, the hint of a smirk in the corner of his mouth. I feel a thrill of joy when he touches them, his fingers lingering a bit before drawing away. "Just what do you think you are doing?" he demands, somewhat laughingly.

"Leaving." I decided to tell him the truth. "Thanks again for the help."

His eyes widen, "But you can't simply leave! We have to find out more about each other! I don't even know your name."

He is so different from any guy I've encountered. He truly seems like he wants to know more about me. His stare tugs at mine, his expression of despair. If I didn't know better... I'd think that he likes me, or at least my appearance.

But, the issue is, I know better. Being loved is a luxury reserved for more beautiful individuals than me.

I shoot up so swiftly my movement is practically a blur, disregarding the anguish that my moves are inciting within my injuries. The joke is finished. "Well, apologize. I'm leaving," I say angrily. Why does my rudeness have to come out at a moment like this? I need to focus on my social skills. He did save my life, after all.

I suppose his conduct is worrying me. The way he is honestly staring at me, with so much dedication, is unnerving and weird. It is like nothing I've ever experienced before, and, honestly, I have never been more terrified in my life.

I start heading to the door, my somewhat damp red hair blowing in the gentle breeze. Maybe this is all just a dream. Maybe in a couple of minutes, I will wake up to realize that the man is simply a fabrication of my mind.

"Please stop!" I hear his calming, hypnotizing voice, but I manage to shake his demand from my head. He can't persuade me to keep on with this joke any longer. He is only messing with me by appearing to be interested, in getting a big laugh out of his pals later. However, as I continue to walk, there is a haze, and suddenly...

He is standing directly in front of me, blocking the entrance.

How did he do that? He had been standing more than 10 feet away from me previously.

I become like a sheep that has been pushed into a corner. "What are you? What do you want from me?" I implore, my eyes boring through his, appealing urgently.

His eyes spark at my words, then, curiously, he wears a resigned face. "Come, sit down while I explain."

He brings me back over to the divan, and I gingerly sit down upon it. I have to say, no matter how odd this seems, I am embarrassingly delighted to spend a few more seconds staring at his attractive face. However, I try not to reveal it, instead exhibiting a suspicious frown.

He takes a big breath and then says. "My name is Liam, and I am what you would call a werewolf."

Shock and incredulity race through my head, chilling me to the bone. Oh, what a tragedy, I thought unhappily, this extraordinarily attractive guy, the only one that's ever talked to me, is a freak. I can see he believes his ridiculous statements too. His eyes are straining to catch my glance.

"Werewolves don't exist," I tell him softly as if he is a kindergartener. I know he doesn't deserve my scorn, but... really?

"Are you saying I don't exist?" he says, angry. I can't help but notice how cute he looks when he is annoyed, and I wonder whether I want to wake up from this dream.

"No, although you might need to go talk to a counselor or something about some mental problems," I quickly snap, then instantly desire to take back my harsh comments. For me, insults are default, practically encouraged by people's equally disdaining response.

He appears agitated now, a slight pout on his thick lips, streaks of his blue hair falling into his eyes. The funny thing is, he doesn't seem to be upset or even bothered by me, but by himself. What type of guy is he? He is proving practically everything that I thought was true about every male false.

"I guess I'll just have to prove it to you," he mutters sadly. His eyes fluttered shut, his lips pursed in concentration. He seems to be concentrated on something, something I can't possibly identify.

"There is no way you can prove to me that-"

I am halted by his quick transfiguration, looking in wonder and awe as the lovely guy suddenly melts, his head crashing into his body. It is like a waterfall, the way his body suddenly falls into itself. However, there is a glimmer of light before he becomes a puddle on the floor, his body-liquid-I-don't-really-know creating a shape. Another instant and he is that form.

A gigantic wolf with sharp white teeth and black eyes that matches his pupils.

I leap back in terror. Nothing I had read or seen about werewolves had prepared me for this.

It barks once, a deep sound that reminds me roughly of his baritone chuckle, his shaggy fur a creamy light brown hue that fits his complexion. He, like his human counterpart, is very lovely. My breath is snatched away as I scrutinize him and his massive, elegant form. What completely astonishes me, most of all, is his dominating air, demanding respect even from me.

Similar to the last morphing, he abruptly crumbles, descending towards the earth swiftly. There is a flash of light, and he becomes the extraordinarily hot man he was before.

Scared, I take a step back, not watching where I am going. Liam, no matter how gorgeous, appears otherworldly. Somehow, my brain refuses to accept that werewolves exist, and even if now I am given proof, it still is a much to take in. It is nearly too much for me to comprehend, no matter how accurate it is.

My feet fall out from beneath me as I crash with a hard, sturdy object. I feel the floor rush to meet me, my arms flag about, attempting to catch my equilibrium.