The Stargazer's Alpha

Ch. 4: I Put a Spell on Him

My bed faintly smelled of musk.

I was fully dressed, and the fire had burned down to embers. Releasing the button on my jeans that pressed into my tummy, I stretched out of the doze. The reddish afterglow of the fireplace filled the small room with so much warmth, I didn't want to see another nightlight ever. I was so cozy in...in Blake's cabin. My bed smelled of Blake's musk, and technically it wasn't even my bed.

It was Blake's place, his bed, and he was a monster. Was he still in the cabin, with me?

I sat up and sniffed the air, certain (for some unknown reason) that I could detect his presence that way.

Blake's scent blended with the smoldering pine log in the fireplace, but it was too old for him to be here. I was alone in his cabin in the woods.

My solitude shouldn't have surprised me. A lifetime of laying alone at night should have taught me better. Last night, Blake made me believe he wanted me around, if only for a few minutes. Like a fool, I let myself hope that something was changing, when it was the same old. So, why should I be surprised?

Bitter chuckles shook me, and I squeezed my eyes again as if I could shut off my disappointment. The lingering smell of a man was the most I could count on to have in my life. And it wasn't enough, goodness gracious, not nearly enough, no matter how wonderful it was.

Nah, Blake's scent didn't just smell wonderful to me. It was irresistible. It commanded my body to follow my nose and get to the source. I did, moving only by scent till it was at its maximum, then peeked out of one eye.

Blake's folded t-shirt sat on top of the chest, with a sheet of paper positioned in the exact middle of it, pressed down by his spoon to make sure I found it.

With a gasp, both eyes not just opened, but bulging out of their sockets, I jumped out of bed.

Blake wrote me a letter!

Nobody had ever written me a letter, not even Mom.

The spoon tumbled to the floor with a sad clung when I grabbed the rustling paper. I rushed to the lamp, nearly overturning it in my hurry to get enough light to read. The lines danced before my eyes. My hands shook so badly.

My dearest Celeste...

I squealed again, hugging the letter to my chest. Inside it, my heart pounded like mad. His handwriting was angular, with strong vertical lines, like the ancient runes.

Seeing my name written in his hand made me want to eat the plain sheet of paper. It looked so normal that my night fears evaporated. What kind of monster wrote on lined school notebook paper? Monsters lived in the movies. Blake's shift couldn't have been real. It was probably...probably...

The letter would explain it.

My dearest Celeste,

I apologize for freaking you out. I didn't realize how shocking shifting could be for someone who was raised outside the pack. What you've seen was real. I'm not a scientist, but the best way I can explain it is this.

We—and you are one of us—are a branch on the human evolution tree. Since the dawn of time, we've coexisted with all other peoples and cultures. The skinwalkers, or loup-garou, or werewolves...that's all us, everywhere, everywhen.

Shivers ran up and down my arms. A werewolf, like in fantasy movies and games? Not only was Blake a monster, but I was one as well? What kind of nonsense was that? Unlike him, I didn't stand out. Blonde hair, gray eyes, heart-shaped face. Neither short, nor tall. Slim, but only because I didn't eat well whenever I got anxious. Which I almost always was.