I Am Also A Werewolf

The moment was a bloody red. Even the full moon stared at Rori's immoral face before making an awkward look and leaving. It didn't feel as bad as she had imagined. Sleeping with the husband of her sister who was the head of a werewolf pack was a desire she thought she could avoid if she was given enough time to think it through. But, she didn't get enough time. All the moments she spent considering his offer were not good enough for her to come up with a decision that would favour both parties.

"Rori!"

She turned as she heard Mark's voice. His accent was as black as anything she had ever heard or seen. From Jazz to Soul music, he was as black as Sudan-born model Nyakim Gatwech.

"Yes!" Rori answered as she turned around a little bit.

"I am sorry," Mark's voice was pure and simple. "I didn't mean to flow with you the way I did. I thought you loved it when I go hard on you."

Rori looked away.

"I am sorry," Mark continued. "We can work things out. Sandra doesn't need to know about what happened this night. Do you hear me?"

Rori did not answer. She was deeply hurt, and her pain was stronger than whatever feeling of hate she was going to get if her sister found out that she had slept with her husband.

"I am going," she managed to say slowly. "I am going back to my apartment."

"Wait!" Mark raised his voice as he ran towards her, holding his belt firmly with his right hand in order to prevent it from falling from his waist. "You know I love you. I care about your well-being, Rori. You are a source of my inner joy. You feel me?"

Rori's eyes flashed slowly. "I don't understand what you mean, Mark," her voice was persistent and strong. "You told me we were going to play a board game. The next moment, you were on top of me, kissing me and fondling my breasts. What do you expect me to do at that point?"

"Enjoy it," Mark's lips pressed together. "I expect you to enjoy the moment as you did."

"Are you seriously joking?"

"No, I am not. Look," Mark held Rori on her shoulder. It was a gentle touch. "I know you like me and you have always thought about this night. I know you want me to spend quality time with you. I have eyes, Rori. I observe you whenever I see you in public. I see the way you look at me. Your eyes are always eager to know where I am going, what I am doing, and if I am going to get your attention. Everyone in our pack knows you love me. You don't have to deny it, Rori. Even your sister knows that you like me. You must be a dreamer to think that no one knows about the special connection going on between us."

"Leave me alone," Rori said, gently.

Mark pulled his hand from her shoulder and placed both of his hands on his hip. By now, his breath was growing cold.

"You can't talk about me like that," Rori continued. "I am not your bitch. I am not a street prostitute you just meet on the road, pay a dollar bill and order her to offer you all the fun you want in the world. I am a woman, Mark. Have a little bit of respect for me being a woman if you can't respect my sister."

Mark laughed. His laughter was like that of a man who had beaten his son on a fifty metres race. He grinned.

"Are you hungry?" He asked.

"Hungry?" Rori was shocked. "Of course, I am fucking hungry," she said sarcastically. "I am so hungry that I have lost the ability to cook in my own apartment. Mark, I am so fucking hungry that I forgot to buy a package of food on my way here. Don't be ridiculous. You are a leader. You should grow some balls."

Mark laughed again, not as hearty as he had done before. He squeezed his face as he let the impact of grinding his jaw run through his mind. He remained calm. "I have a question for you. It is kind of related to sex. But, I am going to ask you this question because I want to understand something. Am I permitted to ask, my dear Rori?"

Rori sniffed. "Be my guest."

"Good," Mark smiled widely. "When was the last time you had sex with a man?"

Twenty seconds of silence passed.

"Many years now," Rori finally replied.

"Do you desire it?"

"No. Not right now.. When I met that attractive Canadian man I told you about, I was not thinking about it. Sex has not been in my mind for a while."

"But, it has been a part of your life?" Mark pressed.

"Excuse me?"

Mark cleared his throat. "I hold you in high esteem, Rori. For you to tell me you have not had sex for many years, I respect you. It is not easy to deal with the sexual challenge that comes with being an adult. I don't know if you feel less desire for sex because you are getting older or if you have trained your mind. But it doesn't matter. What is important is that you are stable. It is what matters to me."

"What do you mean by stable?"

Another twenty seconds of silence passed.

"You have the potential to have sex," Mark drooled.

Rori gave him an awkward look as she hissed. Mark was now holding his belt with a masculine pride that irritated her.

"You have got the potential to make yourself proud," he continued. "You just have to be a good girl, and your sister will never know about it. I am the leader of our pack, remember? I make shit die."

Rori started walking away. For a minute, she didn't look back.

Apart from the painting of a nineteenth century werewolf, everything in the apartment shone as the sun streamed in through the long French windows. Drake sighed as he observed the carved mahogany mantelpiece in his parlor that had been polished. He couldn't remember when he had polished it, but he was certain he had sat on it before he went to bed early, yesterday.

"Good morning, my love," a blonde woman in a white apparel said, as she came closer to kiss him. Her name was Rosetta. Her bright eyes hovered around the parlor until it sparkled, and Drake was able to notice the carved rosettes and female busts of the mahogany mantelpiece in his parlor oiled to perfection. He could not help but admire the long marquetry table in the center of the room. It was well placed as it reminded him of his late parents who had the good habit of rearranging books on top of a shelf until it suited their taste.

"Do you want eggs? Milk? Or both?" Rosetta asked. She was seriously paying attention to the engagement ring on her ring finger.

"Milk is fine with me," Drake said, standing up. He could not help himself from being abnormally hooked up with the appearance of his apartment. Everywhere from the ceiling fan to the carpet seemed to be equally handsome as if it had also been equally well tended by someone who was waiting for a special moment to happen in his life. Although it was almost possible for him to figure out the special moment in his life in one guess, he was not eager to think of it above the layer of happiness that his fiancee had already built. The news had gone round the small community of loving people as he had expected. He and Rosetta were getting married. And, they were going to be one soon, like husband and wife, like honeycomb and bee, inseparable, unbreakable and unshakeable.

"I am going out for a walk," Drake said, putting his hands inside his pockets. "I will be back in an hour."

Rosetta frowned. "What about the milk and the eggs? What am I going to do about it? I can't eat all of it. You know I am trying to lose weight, and it has not been easy for me during these past few days. I have eaten so little that one would assume I am fasting."

Drake exhaled. "I am so sorry, hun," he said. "You can cover it. I will try to eat it when I come back. I need to clear my head a little bit. You know we have a big day ahead of us. Everything needs to be perfect for you. I don't want to ruin it..."

"For us!" Rosetta interrupted, clapping her hands gently. "Everything has to be perfect for both of us because it is going to be our first and only marriage. I want to spend all my life with you, Drake. You are my dream husband... So, when you want to talk about our marriage, please use 'us' instead of 'you' or 'I'. When you use 'us', it makes me feel secure and safe. Like I own you and you own me too. Like we are going to be together, and never be separated."

"I understand, hun," Drake said. "It just skipped my mind. A lot has been happening since we started making arrangements for our marriage."

"I understand too," Rosetta replied, calmly. "You don't have to stress yourself. Your one and only wife understands. Now, you know what is going to happen?"

Drake was curious. "What?"

"You are going to leave your apartment right now. Then, when you are gone, I am going to put your breakfast in a place you are going to easily find it when you are back. Does that make sense?"

Drake laughed a bit as he drew Rosetta closer to his body and hugged her tightly. He loved her. Rosetta knew he loved her because he always said it before and after dinner.

"I will be back as soon as possible," Drake said as he pressed her gently on her shoulder.

"And I will be right here, waiting for you until you are back," Rosetta smiled.

*

A week passed.

The wedding gifts were lined up on the table, in an orderly manner, as though waiting for inspection. Drake could notice at the end of the table, a small jotter pad and black fountain pen, where he could write down his wish for their marriage - his marriage with Rosetta. He gently took the jotter pad and black fountain pen. He started writing.

- We are going to be married for more than fifty years.

- We are going to have three kids before we celebrate our ten years of marriage.

- We are going to buy a big house before I turn thirty.

- Our first child must go to an Ivy League School.

He stopped writing as he raised the jotter pad to look at what he had written. His handwriting was clear and bold. It was like the handwriting of one of the pantry maids he knew when he was in London who dusted the offerings daily while watching the church butler polish the silver wine cups.

"This is good," Drake said aloud as he dropped the jotter pad back on the table to observe the place once again. In his observation, he noticed there was an aura of restrained opulence in the church they were planning on getting married in, of enormous wealth that was clearly apparent but never flaunted. It was as if the residing priest had ordered the new heavy velvet drapes and lace curtains in front of the church mainly because of them. He stopped walking as he got closer to the church altar. It was neat. Everywhere around the church altar was neat. Everywhere around him was neat too, including the entrance and exit doors of the church that were usually dusty was neat today. His phone rang. It was a patient beep.

Rori did not feel at ease when her sister, Sandra stepped inside her room to talk to her about their parents' death. The whisper of Sandra's pink satin dressing gown was the only sound in the empty room she could hear clearly as she hurried to make her statements add up properly in order to simplify things for her.

"Let us eat," Rori offered after a brief moment of silence. "Food is good for a troubled soul."

"Food?" Sandra scratched her forehead softly. "I don't want to eat food now. But if I refuse to eat, you will start acting like Mark. You will either complain I am trying to lose weight or I am too thin to reject a food offer."

"I don't judge, Sandy," Rori said, dropping the bowl of rice she had gotten from the kitchen on the dining table in the dining room. The kitchen was close to the dining room.

Sandra took her place at the empty chair and pressed the discreet ruby and jade bell push beside her.

"You don't have to do that," Rori cautioned. "It is a gift for someone special."

"Someone special?" Sandra's eyes twitched as she rubbed her face with her palm. It was so early for her to be taking breakfast here, unlike her sister, who ate breakfast on the family's dining room alone since their parents' death, on a thick dark tray covered with impeccably starched linen.

"So, tell me about this special person you bought a bell for?" Sandra said between chunks of beef.

"He doesn't matter to you," Rori said, trying to avoid their eyes meeting.

An old woman in a blue uniform with stiff white apron, cuffs, and cap immediately appeared, glancing nervously at both of them as they sat opposite each other.

"Yes, Miss Reeler?" The old woman said.

Sandra turned as she took a quick look at her family's loyal servant for twenty years.

"What is she still doing here?" She asked Rori. "I thought Father gave us clear instructions to relieve her from her duties if anything bad ever happens to him."

"It is not her fault, it is mine," the old woman who was called Betty said. "I want to still be with Rori for a while until I find a better place to go to."

Sandra exhaled as she dropped her spoon on the table. "Don't you have a son who lives in the big city?"

Betty did not answer.

"Are you deaf? Can't you hear me properly?"

"He is dead," Rori answered for Betty immediately she noticed the rise in anger in Sandra's tone. She turned to Betty. "Only coffee and milk for me this morning, thank you, Betty. You can go."

Betty bent down a little as a sign of appreciation. She left.

"I don't like her these days," Sandra confessed as she began to eat again.

"You have never liked her. You don't have to deny it. Both of us know," Rori said.

"She is too slow and inactive."

"She is just being careful. She knows her work. If you give her space, she will do it."

"Yes, Miss Reeler! Why won't she do it when her eyes are like blue stained glass that has survived a fall. She barely smile when she works here. Even when Audrey was employed and assigned to help her out, she still didn't smile. She just watched her wrinkled face until she could no longer watch again. People are afraid of women who don't smile. They believe that most of them, especially those of them who were present during the last full moon came in contact with a strange force that has had a strong impact on their attitude. The way they see life."

"That is purely barbaric," Rori confessed. "Only deranged people would consider an old woman's abnormal display of affection as evil. Betty is a nice hardworking woman who knows her duty."

Sandra agreed. She didn't have the strength nor the wisdom to debate a woman's way of life with her sister. She was a girl of fun years, and she knew only a woman with a firm hand, and strong ideas could conquer the heart of an alpha in a secretly splendid sense of humor as she did. It was hidden there in her dark blue eyes. She was a queen and she knew it.

"Are you still going to tell me who owns the bell on this table?" Sandra asked.

"Of course," Rori smiled. "It is for a human friend of mine. I met him in a restaurant."

"You met a human friend in a restaurant and you are proud of your exploits?" Sandra's voice was slightly raised. "You know how dangerous it is to develop a romantic relationship with a human friend?"

"I wish!" Rori said, placing her middle finger close to her right ear. "I wish that was possible, Sandy. He is getting married to a beautiful blonde woman, and I made this special bell for him. I want to wish him a happy married life."

Sandra laughed gently as she felt the bell. "You are such a sweet pie," she said. "I don't know if I am going to find someone with a better heart. Your habit of putting people's feelings over your feelings has always separated me from you. I am a beast, Rori. I take whatever I want in the forest. No matter the cost, I take whatever I want!"

Rori watched as her sister continued eating her rice. She took three more spoons then stopped.

"Mark told me you came very early in the morning yesterday. Is it true?" Sandra asked.

Rori heart skipped a beat.

"Why didn't you call me before coming? I thought we had already concluded the plans regarding Father and Mother's burial. Why did you see Mark and not me?"

Rori did not answer. She bit her lips.

"Rori! I am talking to you. And you have to give me an answer before I start raining volcanoes on top of your head. Why did you visit yesterday?"

"I was sick," she lied.