Howl (Monster Boyfriends #1)

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

JAMIE

B y the time we make it back to my condo, most of my anger has dissipated and my muscles are no longer contracting. The entire time I was in Patrick’s presence, I had to fight the urge to punch him square in his yappy jaw. The guy is a douchebag, and I knew that going into the situation, so why did I let his stupid comment get to me?

Hearing Raegan’s name coming out of his mouth was just one straw too far. Hearing him speak about her in such a crude way made my predator instincts want to pounce. I would not, and will never, tolerate anyone disrespecting her. Because she’s my friend. Having such a visceral reaction is completely normal. Totally understandable.

Raegan is sitting quietly in her seat when I turn off the engine. I know I’ve probably made her uncomfortable with the way I acted, but I don’t want her to feel that way around me. I’m supposed to be her safe place. She told me so the first time she ever cried in front of me. Knowing this made me feel worthy, like I had a purpose: to always protect her at any cost.

I just never thought I’d be willing to rip someone’s throat out for her.

I guess I can classify my lack of control as another symptom. One more thing to blame on my inner monster.

Every lunar cycle I dread the days leading up to the next full moon, when my self-control is forfeited. As the Waxing Gibbous slowly takes its shape, my patience gets thinner, my lustful thoughts become overpowering, and the Jamie that Raegan knows disappears beneath the surface. It’s why I try to stay away from her as much as possible during that unpredictable time. I typically stay at the werewolf camp in the woods where I’m able to shift fully when the moon is full in the night sky. I hate every second I’m not myself, but for those few hours under the moonlight, I have to surrender and let nature take the wheel. In that other body, I am no longer Jamie.

I’m just the wolf.

I don’t think Raegan realizes I disappear once a month, but sooner or later she’s going to put it together. Especially if she’s not gone by next Wednesday. I want her to be here—safe and away from Patrick—but I only have four more days until I’ll have no choice but to shift.

I take a deep breath and clear my thoughts before turning to look at her. She’s pulled her left leg up to rest beneath her on the seat while her right leg is perched on the dash. I’ve told her before how dangerous the position is, thinking of what could happen if the airbags go off, and when she sees me looking at her, she immediately moves both feet to the floorboard, giving me a sheepish expression like she’s in trouble.

Her actions bring a much needed smile to my face, and I think I can finally feel the last ounce of anger fizzle out of my blood stream.

I wish more than anything that I could tell her about what I am. I know I could, if I really wanted to, but the lie has gone so far at this point I wouldn’t know how to bring it up. Plus, everything would change, and that’s the last thing I want. Especially now when she needs me the most.

She’s waiting for me to be the first to speak, so I say the first thing that comes to mind. “I think you should stay here tonight.”

She closes her eyes thoughtfully. “I had a feeling you would say that.”

“Did Mavis predict it for you?” I joke.

A breeze blows in through her cracked window and I catch the scent of her coconut shampoo. I shudder and have to face my window for a moment so I can catch my breath. She doesn’t seem to notice.

“Nope.” She pops the P dramatically. “I saw it myself. I have a sixth sense when it comes to these things.”

“These things, meaning me,” I point out, looking back at her.

She leans in conspiratorially. “Well, yes. What else would it be?”

I shake my head and embrace the better mood she’s put me in. “You’re pretty good at sensing Kit-Kats as well.”

A goofy grin takes over her doll-like features. “You have some don’t you?”

I’m momentarily lost in the details of her face. Typically her dark hair is down in loose waves around her face, but today she styled it into a bun at the top of her head. With her hair pulled back, I can easily study the splattering of freckles across her skin and the everpresent rosy undertone of her skin, her button nose and full lips, and her eyes, the most brilliant shade of blue.

I clear my throat and lean over to open the glove compartment in front of her, my arm brushing her knee. Inside is a pack of unopened Kit-Kat bars and Sour Patch Kids—her favorite candy and mine. “I bought these for the movie, but I guess you can have them now,” I playfully tease.

She grabs the bag of Kit-Kats and clutches them to her chest like a treasure. I love that the simplest gestures bring her joy.

“Come on,” I say, “we’ll stay in tonight. We can finish watching that documentary about cheerleaders.”

“Ooo yes. That brunette had just broken her ankle and she’s definitely not gonna make mat.”

She rushes from the truck and darts for the front steps, practically skipping her way to the top to unlock the door, using the key I gave her a few years ago, for if she ever needed to come by when I’m not home. She throws a look over her shoulder to me, a warm smile lighting up her face.

For a moment, I imagine what it would be like if she lived here. I can see her coming home after closing the bookstore to a home cooked dinner I prepared just for her. We’d spend the evening watching our favorite shows, and then we’d go up the stairs hand in hand to get ready for bed.

Where in the fuck is this domestic shit coming from?

Either I’m losing my cool on Raegan’s shitty ex or I’m daydreaming about being a stepford wife, nothing in between. The full moon needs to hurry up and get here or else I’m going to go insane.

We’re settled on the couch as the credits scroll on the final episode of our current binge watch, and Raegan is fast asleep with her feet tucked into my side. Her head is resting on one of my throw pillows and her mouth is slightly open as she breathes softly in and out into the crook of her arm. I place a hand on her thigh but keep still. It’s the most I can touch her before my dick starts whispering in my ear about other plans.

I don’t have these thoughts often, and I know I can mostly blame my wolf nature, but sometimes I think there’s more to it. I’ve never had anyone else in my life I could consider a confidant. Someone I can tell all my secrets to and not fear they’ll run away screaming. Raegan is the one person I’ve confided in the most, but still, there’s this one little detail about myself I can’t seem to confess.

I want to—so badly that some days the pressure eats me alive.

As a werewolf, we’re told one of our greatest rewards in life is finding our perfect mate. The one person who fits with you like a puzzle piece and supports you as a beam supports the structure of a home. It doesn’t have to be another wolf. Most of the time it isn’t. Things are much different now than when my grandparents were going through the traditions of finding a mate. I’ve known werewolves to mate with vampires and humans. It’s not unheard of in this day and age. There’s someone out there for all of us, and one day the moment will come when I find mine. But as I gaze upon Raegan’s soft features cast in the light of the television screen, I wonder if it could be her.

But wouldn’t I know already if we were mates? There have to be signs—some sort of magical firework moment that occurs the moment we touch. But there’s nothing. Just my hand on her thigh. Just two best friends watching a movie.

I decide it’s time to move Raegan upstairs, because I know she won’t want to stay on the couch all night. Another thing we share in common is lower back pain, but I fear that’s just a sign of being in our thirties.

I carefully shift to the edge of the couch hoping not to disturb her position so I can stand and stretch, but it’s no use. Being the lightest sleeper in the world, she lets out a small moan and rubs her eyes.

“Is it over?” she asks with a yawn.

“You slept through the entire last episode.”

She groans and rolls onto her back. “How did it end?”

“They won.”

“Did they run into the ocean?”

I laugh because it’s the part she’s been waiting for from the beginning of the show. “Yes. They ran into the ocean.”

“Okay good.”

She closes her eyes and I can tell she’s about to drift off again, so I nudge her shoulder. “Come on,” I coax her. “Let’s go upstairs.”

The statement sends a shiver down my spine, but I have to remind myself I’m only referring to us going to our own bedrooms. I have a guest room that’s just for Raegan, and she’s stayed in it so often her smell has clung to every surface. There are extra clothes already in a drawer, and travel size toiletries in the bathroom down the hall.

She groans louder this time, but instead of waiting for her to get up on her own, I slide my arms beneath her limp body and lift her into a cradling position. “I know, I’m ruining everything and I’m the worst,” I murmur teasingly.

“Admitting is the first step to recovery,” she mutters, throwing her arms around my neck and nuzzling into my chest. It’s like she’s trying to kill me.

I can’t help but smile as I carry her up the steps to the second floor.

Her bedroom is cold, just the way she likes. The temperature hasn’t dropped enough for me to start using the central heating, so the inside of the house matches the crisp cool air outside. October is the month when autumn truly takes form in Tennessee. Being in the south, the humidity lingers through September, and we can only hope the average temperature will change by Halloween. This year it seems the weather has turned in our favor.

I place her on the bed and pull a blanket from the bottom drawer of the dresser. She’ll crawl beneath the comforter eventually, but just in case I drape a quilt over her as she curls up on her side.

As I’m leaving, she calls out softly. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Rae,” I tell her, closing the door with a soft click. Then I’m off to my bedroom to clear my head before attempting to sleep.