Chapter 23: Chapter Twenty-Three

Claire

Claire stared out the window as they drove toward her childhood home. With each mile, she became more and more nervous. She knew Axel wasn't worried about meeting her family, but he'd never met Aunt Demetria.

She was her mother's sister, and younger by three years, but more eccentric and … strange. Aunt Demetria loved crystals and fortunes. She always seemed as if she knew more than she said about everyone. She believed in ghosts and the other side. It creeped Claire out most of the time, but now especially, since she knew there was more to the world than she originally believed.

She didn't want Aunt Demetria to get suspicious of Axel and dig deep into his family. She was protective since Claire had no mother to do so for her.

"Your heart is beating really fast over there, Claire. Are you sure you're okay?" Axel asked.

She chuckled and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "I'm fine."

"Claire," he chuckled. "What do you think your aunt is going to ask me? Do you think she's so in tune with the world that she'll pick up that I'm a werewolf?"

Claire nodded furiously. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm afraid of."

He gave her a look. "I'm eighteen years old, and I've never come across someone that met me and immediately knew anything was up. It took my best friend five years to even question my diet."

Claire frowned. "No offense, but Ethan Rogers wasn't exactly Einstein."

Axel burst out laughing. "Touché." He reached over and patted her thigh. "It's going to be okay. Just calm down. You're going to give yourself a heart attack at eighteen."

Claire knew he was probably right, so she tried to calm herself as they turned down her road. She lived in a small middle class suburban neighborhood, with similar housing, blue shudders and a white fence.

Her father's truck sat in the driveway with her Aunt's Scion iQ behind it.

"This is you?" he asked.

Claire sighed heavily. "This is me. Now remember, don't look into her eyes—"

Axel parked in front of the house and turned to look at Claire. "Claire," he said. "For the final time. Calm down. Now let's go get this over with."

Claire climbed out of his truck and led the way toward the front porch. The window blind moved once they got to the front steps, and it swung open.

Claire's dad looked … not as excited as she'd hoped. His gaze settled on Axel standing next to her, an almost annoyed look rested on his face. Maybe she should have warned her dad about it. "Hey, Daddy," she said, wrapping him into a hug.

He patted her back dramatically. "Hey, Pumpkin. You didn't tell me you were bringing a friend."

Claire glanced over at Axel who looked as if he was hiding a smile. "Oh, well, it was kind of a last-minute thing. This is Axel Davers. He went to my high school—"

"I remember him. The football guy," her dad said, opening the door wider.

"Nice to meet you," Axel said, offering his hand to him.

Her dad reluctantly took it and gave him a clipped nod that looked forced to Claire. "Your aunt has dinner ready. Come on in."

Claire slid past her father who seemed fixated on Axel and into her childhood home. It was lived-in as always. Her dad had never been the greatest housekeeper, but Claire made sure it never got out of hand.

The smell of Aunt Demetria's zucchini bake filtered into the hallway, making Claire's stomach growl. It was one of the only vegetarian dishes her aunt made that she enjoyed. Aunt Demetria stood with her back to Claire, her fluttery teal and white kimono hung all the way to the floor.

Her blonde bob was sleek and effortlessly styled like always.

"I thought you'd never get here," she said without looking over her shoulder. She always seemed to sense when people arrived. When she turned, her smile met her eyes and shifted quickly behind Claire.

Where Axel stood.

Then to Claire's dad who Claire assumed still studied Axel like an escaped prisoner from Alcatraz. "Well, don't we have a full house tonight? How pleasant. Come over here and give your auntie a hug, sweet girl."

Claire walked over where she was dragged into an embrace. She smelled like spices and some kind of natural deodorant that Claire hated but didn't have the nerve to tell her.

When she pulled back, she smiled. "It's been too long. You look just like your mother," she said, cupping her face. "Now, tell me, who do we have here?"

Claire swallowed her nerves, and took a step back, gesturing toward Axel. "This is Axel Davers. He's my … friend." She felt it was too soon to tell her family she'd met her lifelong partner her third week of college. She'd wait a few weeks for that one.

Something slid over Aunt Demetria's face, like Claire expected, but it vanished as quickly as it arrived. "Well, I've never met one of Claire's friends before. It's very nice to meet you. I'm glad she brought you for dinner."

Axel took her outstretched palm and shook it. He jerked his hand back quickly, and she chuckled. "Little bit of a shock there," she smirked.

Claire cringed on the inside. Nothing was a coincidence with Aunt Demetria. Her lively eyes were cartoonish, with a small button nose and lips that mimicked the shape of a heart. Physically, she was very beautiful in a social standard, but she was odd and came off witchy to Claire.

She always knew Claire's next move as a child, and if Claire's feelings were hurt, she knew who did it. Which made Claire scared that she sensed Axel had bullied her, or better yet, about Axel's big secret.

Axel didn't give on to any discomfort and reached for Claire's hand, and she took it quickly, needing some kind of feeling of sanity for herself. Her dad didn't miss the contact and lifted his brows to his hairline. "Claire, help Aunt Demetria set the table," he said.

Claire stared at her dad's abrupt demand, because he was the easygoing dad that didn't care about the table being set, and narrowed her gaze at him. "Sure thing."

She walked into the dining room with Aunt Demetria and glanced at the shadow of her father in the kitchen.

Aunt Demetria chuckled. "Don't worry about your dad. He's being dramatic."

Claire hurried to set out the plates, noticing her aunt glancing up at her. "What?" Claire asked.

"Nothing," she said, standing up straight. "The table is ready, boys. Come on in."

Claire sat in her usual seat, and Axel sat on the opposite side of her, away from her dad. The silence in the air made her skin crawl. "So, Claire, how is school going? I've heard about the attacks around campus. I hope you're being careful," she said.

Her dad looked up. "There has been more than one attack?"

Claire smiled to herself. Her dad didn't get on social media often and never watched the news. Most of the current events he heard was from work or Claire.

Claire nodded. "Yeah, there has been three or so," she said, scooping food onto her plate. "But we've been careful. I make sure not to walk alone at night—"

"Has Axel been accompanying you?" Aunt Demetria asked.

Axel glanced over at Claire. "When I can. I wouldn't want anything to happen to her. There has been a missing person report this weekend from a party."

"Were you there, Claire?" her dad asked over his food. She watched him make a face at his plate of zucchini but didn't comment on it. As long as he didn't have to cook it, he was fine.

Claire took a slow bite. "Yes."

He glared at her. "And you didn’t call to tell me about the person that went missing?"

She shrugged. "I just heard about it yesterday, Dad."

He sat down his fork. "I think that maybe you should commute this semester, just until they've figured out what's going on—"

"Dad," Claire said. "It's almost an hour from the house—"

"It would make me feel safe," he said, over a concerned brow. She knew he was a bit on the overprotective side since her mother passed, but she was in the most protected place she could be at the moment—a house full of wolves.

She swallowed. "I'm fine, Dad. I can't drive back and forth. It'd actually make it harder on me. I would be alone, wandering campus between classes and work. If I'm on campus, I can stay in my dorm room, safe from anyone—"

"I don't know, Claire Bear," he said, rubbing his forehead. "I'm assuming the attacks happen at night mostly. You have that job. I think you should come back home—"

Aunt Demetria put down her fork and took a casual drink of her red wine. "Don," she interjected, her dark eyes sweeping over his annoyed demeanor. "I believe she's safe where she is—with Axel."