By Moonlight: Vamp Rising Part 4

There, she started the shower, pulled the whistle off from around her neck and set it on the sink counter, grabbed a towel from the rack and set it on the toilet lid so it would be easy to get after she'd washed, and then stepped into the hot stream, while the dog sat on the tiles watching.

Gwen had never had a dog, or any animals for that matter. Growing up, her parents had denied her any pets, though she begged them periodically, arguing that having a dog would teach her responsibility. But the counter-argument had always been that dogs and cats shed uncontrollably, ruin furniture, and would give their home an unkempt appearance, none of which they could afford. Her father was a psychiatrist and treated his patients out of his home office. Her mother, though unemployed, dabbled in interior design and used their Seattle penthouse as a s.h.i.+ning example of her abilities. For all the points Gwen had tried to make in favor of having a pet (none of which appealed to her parents in the slightest) she'd never thought to highlight companions.h.i.+p and protection.

It had never occurred to her that a dog could feel like a friend, but for the half hour it took her to dry off, get dressed in the only garment she was allowed to wear (that black slinky dress), and head out to the cafeteria for breakfast, that's what she felt like she had: a little sidekick.

It wasn't until Gwen was about to enter the cafeteria building that the dog fell back. Smart little guy, she thought. It probably knew it wasn't allowed around food preparation. She gave it a quick pat on the head and told it to run along then made her way through the building and to the buffet of breakfast foods.

After getting a tray and setting a plate, mug, plastic tumbler, and utensils on it, Gwen started down the buffet line. The students in front of her piled their plates high with eggs, bacon and other meats, but as Gwen slid her tray along she couldn't bring herself to put food on her plate. The smell of cooked eggs turned her stomach. The bacon seemed less than appetizing. Nothing looked appealing to her. In fact, the thought of eating at all was driving her into a bad mood.

She broke away from the line, hoping that a creamy cup of coffee would jumpstart her appet.i.te, but even that made her queasy. Well, she would have to eat something, so she poured herself a cup of coffee, stirred in cream and sugar, grabbed a banana (though the very word made her stomach lurch), and started through the tables, looking around for an empty seat as she went.

The students stared at her as she pa.s.sed. Those that had an empty seat beside them quickly set an article of clothing or their backpack down as if to say the spot was taken. It was like being yanked back to middle school. Everyone had their established clicks and no one wanted to risk befriending the new girl. Was it because she was new or was it because she was different?

There were a number of vacant tables at the back of the cafeteria, so Gwen held her head high and chose a seat at the farthest one, being sure to sit facing the room and not with her back to it. If middle school had taught her anything it's that the bullies would surely throw food if they knew they wouldn't get caught.

She was tempted to blow her whistle. Brandon seemed to be the only person here who was willing to get to know her, though the intent she'd sensed from him was intimidating. Too bad that dog couldn't have accompanied her. She straightened her back, acknowledged that this was painfully awkward, and peeled her banana. She was an adult, after all. This wasn't summer camp. She didn't need to make friends, though she'd like to. If she kept herself focused on her training (whatever that entailed) then she would get through the next... how long did they expect her to be here? No one had mentioned.

Suddenly Gwen was distracted from her ruminations by a sneering comment that came anonymously from the crowd of students: bloodsucker.

If she had been in a bad mood before, the insult got her blood boiling. Her eyes darted across the faces that were glaring at her, as her mouth pressed into a hard line.

"Who said that?" She said through her teeth.

Someone chuckled, but she couldn't locate where the laugh was coming from. A fantasy flashed through her mind: flying across the room, clutching the throat of one of these jerks, squeezing the life out of them. But she snapped out of it. Violence was beneath her. It wasn't like her to jump to anger. She was reminded of the equipment she'd smashed, the impulsive sprint through the wilderness, the knee-jerk reaction to Brandon, grabbing his s.h.i.+rt and slamming him into the wall. There was something dark stirring deep down inside of her and if she didn't make a concerted effort to calm it, she was afraid of what she might find herself doing. Committing. She hadn't received a second chance at life only to wind up in prison. The last thing she needed was to commit a.s.sault and get arrested.

Old Gwen would never fight. New Gwen, Gwen of the Cascade Mountains would probably only fight if provoked. Who was Vampire Gwen? She needed to decide before she became defined by her impulses. But as she sat there, blocking out the sneers and jeers, and trying to come up with a list of attributes she could live up to, the t.i.tle bloodsucker kept coming to mind.

That's what she wanted: blood.

She let her banana drop and pushed her tray away so that the pungent coffee smell couldn't reach her then took a deep breath.

Parasite, said someone from the crowd.

Her eyes darted up again and her hands balled into fists, but no one indicated guilt.

Then someone said, leech.

Gwen jumped to her feet and tore up the aisle, fiercely eyeing the students. "Say it to my face."

From behind her she heard, Succubus.

She whipped around, determined to catch the culprit, but was met with dozens of glaring eyes. She had a good mind to reach out and throttle the nearest student, never mind retaliating against the jerk who had actually insulted her. Clearly the entire student body had a problem with her, and focusing her wrath on all of them would be justified.

She locked eyes with a woman who was built like a tank and glaring at her murderously. But just as Gwen was about to lunge at the tremendous woman and show every s.h.i.+fter in this room what the consequence of messing with her looked like, she heard a kind voice say, "Morning."

It was Brandon.

After Gwen met eyes with him she turned back to the students. They lowered their heads to their meals, falling silent. No more sneers. Not one chuckle.

"Sleep Ok?" He asked with a smirk.

"I guess," said Gwen returning to her table.

"You seem tense," he noted, following after her.

Gwen turned on her heel and asked, "How long am I supposed to be here?"

"It really depends," said Brandon, sensing her agitation. "You want to take a walk before your morning session?"

"I'm starving," she said, declining.

"You haven't touched your breakfast," he pointed out after eyeing her tray.

"It smells like poison."

Brandon looked at her questioningly then asked, "What do you usually eat for breakfast."

Gwen narrowed her gaze on him. "I want blood, as much as it disgusts me to say that. I can already tell that's what I'm craving and it's making the smells in here completely nauseating."

"Ok, let's get some air," he suggested, again offering to take her for a walk. When she made no motion to come, he added, "Christoph probably has blood for you. I'm sure he'll give it to you at your morning session."

Gwen grimaced, though she was relieved, and tore ahead of Brandon heading straight for the exit. But when she got outside, she didn't stop. She continued to walk briskly along the path that connected the cafeteria building to the Training Center then veered left, cutting through the gra.s.sy lawn that unfolded into a field until she started to feel like she had put enough distance between herself and her anger.

"They have a problem with me," she stated, finally turning to face Brandon, who had hung back at a respectful distance.

"Yeah, s.h.i.+fters can be brutal," he agreed, approaching.

"You're excusing them?" She blurted out with astonishment. "They were hara.s.sing me."

"We'll talk to them," he a.s.sured her.

"Thank you," she said firmly.

"Just so you know, they're probably just giving you a hard time because they're intimidated."

Gwen rolled her eyes, that old line? It was her parents all over again. Their unconcerned attempts to convince her that the boys only targeted her because she was pretty.

"s.h.i.+fters are strong, especially those that turn into bears and wolves and mountain lions, but they're still no match for a vampire if it really came down to it. All those guys in there know that. And they're probably just trying to scare you off before you figure it out."

She didn't know how much of that she believed, but it got Gwen thinking. "You're a s.h.i.+fter."

"I am."

"A werewolf?"

Brandon grinned and eased into his right hip, c.o.c.king his head to the side. "Want to see?"

"Is this your version of showing off?"

"Not really," he said, shrugging, which indicated it most certainly was. "Besides, wouldn't it be old news to you?"

She was confused by that, but played along. "Show me," she said. "We have time, right?"

Brandon looked at the sun then said, "A few minutes, I guess. I don't want you to be late, though."

"Then you better go ahead," she challenged.

Brandon took a few steps back and locked eyes with her. His lip curled into a snarling grin that Gwen found amusing. He actually thinks this will impress me. Giving him her undivided attention, Gwen raised her eyebrows and watched, as Brandon collapsed in the blink of an eye onto all fours, transforming instantaneously into a black dog.

Not a dog. A wolf.

And not just any wolf, it was the one she'd woken up with. Why had she thought it was only a dog?

"How the h.e.l.l did you get into my bed?" She demanded, forgetting that wolves couldn't talk.

The black wolf padded towards her and nuzzled its snout into her crotch, and though she wanted to smack Brandon for taking advantage, she held back, thinking it was wrong to hit an animal, and instead only urged it back angrily.

"Turn back right this very instant!" She ordered.

Brandon lifted up, morphing back into his human form.

As soon as he was fully transformed, she thwacked his shoulder hard with the back of her hand. "How dare you!"

"What?" He asked, smiling innocently, yet grinning like the dog he was.

She gasped when the realization hit her. "You saw me showering!" She gasped again. "You saw me naked!" She thwacked him again, and went to strike him a third time, but he caught her hand and gently held it between his own.

"You called for me," he said.

"I most certainly did not," she objected.

"You did. You blew the whistle."

He had to be f.u.c.king with her. She hadn't blown the whistle unless she'd done so in her sleep, which wasn't like her. Then again very few of her behaviors had been like her since waking up in the infirmary. But still, she wasn't buying it. She yanked her hand out of his grasp, which only caused him further amus.e.m.e.nt.

"You think this is funny?"

"I think it's funny you don't remember blowing the whistle."

"I didn't!" She insisted. "And even if I had, you never said you'd show up as a dog and sleep next to me in bed!"

"Wolf," he corrected.

She widened her eyes astonished that of all the things he could say correcting her was what came out of him. As if she'd offended him.

"You wanted to feel safe, and you woke up feeling safe. I don't see why you're upset."

She glared at him.

Brandon forced the smile from his face, s.h.i.+fted his tone, and said, "I wanted to be near you."

"So I should be flattered?" She asked sarcastically.

"I didn't want you taking off in the middle of the night all alone."

"Just admit I didn't blow the whistle."

Brandon lowered his gaze and shrugged. "I'm a werewolf. I can be bad. I can also be trained. But seriously, you blew the whistle."

"Right," she scoffed sardonically. "Don't do that again."

"Well if I hear the whistle, what should I-"

"Come as a human, please," she stated dryly, as she considered how on Earth she'd been able to blow that thing while sleeping.

He nodded to indicate he understood then glanced up at her with a hint of submission in his steel blue eyes. He was a dog, endearingly loyal, but apt to run amuck if not dominated, disciplined, and put in his place. Gwen couldn't help but drink in the sight of him, as he stood anxiously awaiting her approval. His scruff of five-o'clock shadow accentuated his jawline in the s.e.xiest way, and the composition of his broad shoulders, muscular arms, firm chest and torso that made up his posture were highly attractive. He was a hunk. And he wanted her to like him. But G.o.dd.a.m.n ,if he wasn't going about it in the worst way possible.

"And don't brag to your buddies that you saw me in the nude," she added, as a final warning before letting the issue drop. How mad could she get if she was the one who'd invited him?

"I wouldn't," he said softly, smiling back at her.

Gwen sighed out the last bit of tension she was holding, which happened to come out as one final agitated question, "Is no one here civilized?"

"No one but you and me," said a smooth, deep voice from behind her. "Christoph Barone," he said reintroducing himself.

Gwen remembered him instantly from the I.C.U., the pale man who was strangely attractive. Brandon had described him as an Armani ad, and now that Gwen was sizing him up she'd have to agree. He was gorgeous, though not as tall as Brandon. He had a youthful glow about him that complimented his full lips and piercing green eyes that slanted up angularly at their outer corners, giving him an exotic look.

"Gwen," she offered.

"You're going to find there isn't a lot of reason to a.s.sociate with the s.h.i.+fters," he stated, glaring momentarily at Brandon before returning his alluring gaze to Gwen. "Different mentalities," he explained.

"We're not so different," countered Brandon.

"Vampires are seductive," he stated factually. "We court. We don't trick."

Gwen wondered how much of their argument Christoph had heard. The comment seemed like a shameless dig to Brandon.

"No," disagreed Brandon. "You definitely trick. Mind control isn't n.o.ble."

Gwen sensed a wall of tension rising between the men.

"To insult me is to insult the lady," Christoph pointed out, which caused Brandon to grit his teeth at the oversight.

"Thanks for the dress," Gwen snapped to put both of them in their places. "Speaking of insulting."

"It serves a purpose, which will be made clear if you'll join me for your morning session," he said firmly.

"Brandon, always a pleasure," said Christoph, as he gestured for Gwen to come along.