Chosen (2 page)

“
H
ey
, sweetie.” My mother’s voice is comforting, and if I thought I could get away with it, I’d run to her arms and have a good cry. But I don’t want the trouble her questions would uncover.

“Hi.”

She gazes up at me from the leather couch as she pushes hair out of her face. She sits cross-legged, as if she’s a kid, and is typing on a laptop. “I made brownies, if you want one.”

The thought of rich chocolate is too tempting to resist, and I say, “I’m going to make hot cocoa to go with mine. Want some?”

“Yes, please.”

Mugs thud on the counter as I put them down, and I reach for the refrigerator door. “How’s the book coming?” My mom writes erotica, which is kind of funny when you consider her eighteen-year-old daughter is still a virgin. But nobody knows what she really does, because she tells people she writes freelance to avoid embarrassing me.

“Pretty good. How was your day?”

My parking lot encounter with Parker comes to mind.
Probably similar to yours.
Except my mother writes about consenting adults. Shame washes over me as buttons on the microwave beep. I was definitely saying yes until I told Parker to stop. A tiny shiver runs through me when I recall the way he made me feel. I was so small in his embrace. And so
desired
.

My mother’s fingers are flying on her keyboard, and I walk over with her drink. She pauses to take it. “Sorry, just another minute. I’m teasing the virgin with forceful foreplay.”

“Heavens, I wouldn’t want to interrupt that.”

She grins at me as she continues to type.

I pull out two plates for our brownies and snitch a piece. Chocolate flavor is sweet on my tongue as I revisit Parker’s hands on my bottom. The way he clenched as if he couldn’t get close enough. My cheeks flush as lust rushes to my lower belly, and I sigh.

“Trixie? What’s wrong?”

My mother’s probing gaze is on me, and she gets up from the couch to approach. Her cold fingers land on my cheeks as she holds my face in her hands. “Your fever’s back, isn’t it?”

I nod and blink back the tears that come. Every spring for the past few years, I’ve had the fever, and my hormones kick into overdrive, making my sexual desires rise. But this year it’s worse than it’s ever been. I almost lost control with a near stranger. “Mom? What’s wrong with me?”

She pulls me into a hug. “Oh, sweetie. It’s time you knew.” I pull away as fear makes my stomach drop. She reaches behind me and grabs the pan of brownies. “We might need all of these.” Mom walks back to the couch and pats it for me to sit.

I drop down, and we bounce with the weight of me. My mother breaks off a piece of chocolate and puts it in my mouth as she asks, “What do you recall from when you were bitten on our camping trip five years ago?”

“I remember going outside in the middle of the night to pee. I saw eyes in the woods and was afraid. The next thing I knew, a wolf knocked me to the ground and bit me.” When I think about the sharp teeth plunging into my flesh, I touch my collarbone, and my pulse quickens. The pain is etched in my memory.

“You still don’t know what happened after that?”

I shake my head, because even though I spent a few hours in the emergency room, my next memory is of my mother shaking me awake the next morning. Mom lifts another piece of brownie to my mouth, and I hold up my hand. “Just tell me what you know.”

“I’m sorry. I know you’re trying to lose weight. That was awful of me to make these.” She gets up and opens the cabinet under the sink. A knife scrapes as she empties the pan into the garbage.

“Mom.”

“I have no self control. I’d eat them all if we don’t share.” She’s stalling.

“Mother.”

The pan clatters in the sink, and she turns to come to me. “You’re going to think I’m crazy, but hear me out.”

I hold out my palms and lift my eyebrows at her in a silent message to spit it out.

She frowns as she stares at me with concern. “I think you were bitten by a werewolf. You had just gotten your period for the first time, and that signified your fertility. He probably smelled it on you.”

Werewolves are rumored to live in this town, and I know my mother believes it’s true, even though I never have. “So he bit me. Just once and ran away. Why?”

“I saw more than one wolf, and my theory is that the one that bit you was young and didn’t have control. But the other one with him did and stopped anything else from happening.” A small shudder goes through her, and she shakes it off.

“But why bite me?” A thought occurs to me.
Did he make me a werewolf?
I whisper, “No.”

My mother takes my hands as she slowly lowers herself to the seat next to me. “I’ve done some research, and there’s a whole world out there that most people don’t know about.”

The bite of brownie I ate rolls in my stomach, and I say, “This isn’t some book you’re writing. It’s my life.”

“I know.”

She still hasn’t told me I’m a werewolf, so I avoid the topic and ask, “But why the fever? What does that have to do with this?”

“I think you’re in heat.”

“Oh no.” I stand up and walk to the kitchen area as I wrap my arms around myself. My mom might be okay talking about sex like it’s the weather, but it’s not my favorite conversation.

“Sweetie, sex is—”

I glare at her. “Sex is perfectly natural. I know. But being in heat? What am I? A dog?”

The look on my mother’s face tells me all I need to know. Suddenly even my fever can’t keep me warm as blood drains from my head. Stars shoot before my eyes, and I croak out, “I’m a werewolf,” before all goes black.

O
uch
.
That’s the second time tonight I’ve thought that. I sit up and gaze at my mother’s bloody hand as I reach up to touch my head where it hurts. My hair is sticky, and I pull my fingers down to look at them.

Mom says, “The bleeding has already stopped. It’s quite amazing, actually. You can see the cut close up before your eyes.”

Ever since the night I was bitten, I’ve possessed a strange ability to heal within minutes. It would be handy if it didn’t freak me out so much. “I know.” I stand up, and while I’m no longer dizzy, my head is reeling with the idea that I’m a crazy half-breed. “I’m going to go to my room.”

When I tell people I live in the trailer park, they get a funny look in their eye, as if they should feel sorry for me. But they’ve never seen ours. It’s luxurious, with plush carpet, custom cabinetry, and expensive art on the walls. My mother’s pen name is famous, and she’s kept it a secret all these years out of fear for me and how I might be judged for it. So she decided we could fly under the radar by living in a trailer park.

I pad my way into my bedroom and strip off my uniform as I walk across the room toward my bathroom. I flip on the shower, and water falls in a rain-like rush from the square showerhead that is supposed to be soothing. Mist rises out above the door and hovers around the lights in the ceiling.

When I step underneath the warmth, I arch my back and let the drops beat down on my chest.
I’m a werewolf.
While that explains what’s happening, I’m not thrilled by the revelation. I’ve never wanted to bite someone or shift, so maybe I can continue to pretend I’m normal.

My nipples are supersensitive under the pulsing stream of hot liquid. My insides twinge, and Parker’s scent comes to mind. I flick a finger over my taut peak. It’s not what I need, and my hand moves between my legs to satiate the real hunger. I plunge a finger into myself as my palm rubs between my folds.

Placing my forehead against the wall of the shower, I stroke myself quickly and imagine it’s Parker’s hand. When I recall the size of his cock pressed against my belly, the walls of my channel flex as if they’re craving it. My mind can’t wrap around how he’d fit, but my quaking makes me think I’d try. My release is sweet.

When I’m done, I sigh, because I feel as if I only satisfied a taste of my fierce need. I bet my mother knows how I can quench my raging desire. But I’m not so sure I want to know.

A
hairbrush rips
my hair as I yank it through in frustration.
That’s it.
I’m going to take Emily’s advice and get it cut. It’s my day off, and I usually spend it curled up on the couch with a good book while my mom clicks away, but today I think I’m going to get out of the house instead.

Besides, my mom will start throwing her werewolf research at me to read, and I plan to spend one more day ignoring my reality. The worn denim of my favorite jeans is soft on my legs as I pull them up. They button easily, and when I let go of the waistband, my pants hang lower on my hips than they used to. A grin covers my face, and I walk to the bathroom mirror to look at my thinner body.

There’s a noticeable difference, and I think after the salon I’ll go buy some new clothes to celebrate. I stare at my breasts spilling out over the edges of my bra and cup them with my hands. My nipples harden immediately, and I become aware of the heat that emanates from my skin. The memory of Parker on my lips makes me lick them in need.
Damn it.
My hormones are out of control. I shake my head and turn away to finish getting dressed.

When I get to the kitchen, I grab a cup of coffee, and the bitter flavor of it without cream and sugar makes me grimace. This counting calories stuff isn’t for the weak. I lean against the counter to see if my mom will raise her head to talk. She doesn’t, so I ignore her and make myself scrambled eggs. I may not be able to satiate my sexual hunger, but a good dose of protein ought to help the physical one.

I’ve placed the first bite in my mouth when my mom breaks free from her work. “Something smells good. Did you make enough for me?”

“Um-hmm.” I always do, because she’d rather eat a cold meal than have to make it herself.

She stretches and makes her way over to the kitchen. I notice she’s still in the outfit she had on last night and ask, “Did you go to bed?”

“Nope. I napped and wrote most of the night. I’m down to the last chapter.” Her plate thumps on the table, and she grins at me. “The ending is so good.”

“You say that every time.” My fork scrapes against the plate as I get the last bite of egg.

“I do, don’t I? But it’s true this time.”

“I think it’s true every time.” I’ve read all the books my mother’s written under her milder pen name and love them as much as the stories she used to tell me when I was a child.

Mom speaks with a mouthful of food. “And this is why we have such a great relationship.”

“Because I compliment you, cook for you, and force you to shower every once in a while?” She chuckles, and I add, “You might consider the last one. I can smell you over here.”

“Will do. I’ll even clean the kitchen too.”

I down the last of my coffee and stand to clear my plate. “I’m going to go into town for a haircut.”

“Take the car, and pick us up something for dinner. I should be done with my book, and I’ll cook to celebrate.”

Most of the time, my mother and I act more like friends than parent and child. I suppose it has to do with her being a single mom. I sometimes wonder if our relationship might be a little too close, though. While I appreciate that she let me take a gap year instead of pushing me to go to college, I think the decision might have also been made because it was easier for her than letting me go.

I wish she would start dating now that I’m older. She’s never even had a boyfriend since Dad left when I was a baby.

The car keys jingle when I grab them from the hook to leave. I step out into sunshine and a warmer temperature than I expected. I take a moment to inhale the fresh air and hum to myself as I walk to the car.

We only live a mile from town, and my drive to the salon is quick. I decided to try the one where I heard Katie Lindholm works. She was my babysitter, and her best friend owns the shop. After I park, I approach the bright-red door in the white building.

I enter a space done in white with pink, orange, and red accents. I immediately notice Katie behind a tall counter, and her face lights up at the sight of me. “Trixie. It’s wonderful to see you.”

“Hi. I’m a little early.”

“That’s okay, you can catch me up on what’s going on in your life.” Katie stands and comes around the counter. “Would you like something to drink?”

“I’m good.”

Katie is in front of me, and her nose crinkles. She tilts her head to the side. “You’re one of us?”

I frown in confusion as Katie nods and reaches for my hand. When she grabs it, sharp claws extend from her fingers for a moment before they retreat, and I gasp in surprise.
She’s a werewolf?
“I——” I step back.

Katie says, “I bet you want that coffee now. Sit, I’ll get it, and we can talk.”

I collapse into a pink vinyl chair.
It’s true.
My mother’s words come back to me.
“There’s a whole world out there most people don’t know exists.”
Katie returns and hands me a mug. I don’t bother to see if the contents are black and take a sip. It’s sweet, and the cream helps it slide down my throat.

Katie asks, “How long have you been one?”

I shrug as I gaze up at her. “About five years. But I didn’t know what I was until yesterday.”

“Whoa.” Katie lands hard in a chair across from me, and the metal creaks. She scoots forward and touches my arm. “How did it happen?”

“I got bitten on a camping trip.”

“Oh my gosh. Nobody ever tried to claim you?”

“What?”

“Like did some guy ever try to convince you that you were his?”

My mind flashes to Parker, and my cheeks flush with shame as I recall his words.
“Don’t deny this.”
“I don’t think so.”

“This is wild. I mean, I’ve heard it can happen, but—” She stands and reaches for my hand. “You must have so many questions. Come with me.”

I follow her into the area where the hairstyling stations are located. A blonde comes from the back room and smiles at me. “You must be Trixie. I’m Devon.” Her hand taps as she pats a black chair. “Have a seat, and let’s figure out what to do with you.”

Katie says, “We’re going to need to figure out more than hair. Poor Trixie’s been bitten but not mated.”

Devon’s scans my body with her eyes. “Goodness, you must be a red-hot mess right now.” She shakes her head and leads me to the shampoo sink. “You’ve come to the right place, though. We’ll help you figure this out.”