Chapter 48

Asya

It’s already dark behind the window, the night long passing midnight, but I can’t force myself to close my eyes and fall asleep. My thoughts are bouncing from one side to the other and I just keep staring blankly at the book I had been reading earlier today. I can't find it in myself to keep reading about mythological beings and giant wolves because… They can’t be real, right? They can’t be.

I probably had a hallucination or something. I’ve read too much, worked too much, and my mind made up something that wasn’t there at all. Huge silver wolves turning into men cannot exist, not in this reality.

I keep saying it to myself again and again—but the tingling sensation under my skin reminds me that it was real. It hasn’t disappeared ever since the flash of light burst through my hands. In fact, it only became clearer as the evening passed by. I couldn’t sit still at the dining table—I ordered pizza in the end because my hands were too shaky to cook anything better than burned toast—and Grandma asked a few times if I was okay.

Of course, I wasn’t okay. I’m not okay even now as I sit in my bed, wrapped up in my blankets and with Teddy snoring next to me. Something has changed in my body, a sensation like the shimmer of electricity quivering under my skin. I even look at my hands, expecting them to light up again, to glow like they did hours ago—but nothing happens.

Somehow, it makes me even more nervous. What if I’m losing my mind?

I snuggle closer to the wall, wrap the blankets tighter around my shoulders, and stare at the window where the pale moonlight is resting on the window sill. My chest is tight with anxiousness, and I curl my hands into fists at every noise from outside. What if the wolf decided to follow me here? What if everything is just a bad dream? I stay awake for a long time, but in the end the rush of adrenaline wears off and I pass out against the wall.

I wake up with Teddy’s tongue on my nose and the muffled light of my bed lamp. Teddy Bear doesn’t give a damn about the wolf anymore and stomps over my bed and body to snuggle by my side. He makes me smile first thing in the morning, and I reach out to pet him—before I fully come back to my senses and realize that the sensation is still there. Like an invisible flow of energy from my toes to the tips of my fingers.

So it wasn’t a dream. Okay. The only thing left is to make sure I’m not insane—and no matter how much I hate to admit it, it looks like I have to talk to Owen. So I get up from my bed with a groan.

“Aren’t you going for a walk?” Grandma peeks out from the living room when, instead of going to the front door, I head straight to the kitchen with Teddy following me like a tail.

I flinch a little at the thought of going back to the woods—last night was more than enough, thank you very much—and turn to her. “No. I’m not feeling well, Gran.”

“Still?” She shakes her head in worry and walks closer, studying my face with a serious frown. “Asya, you have to be careful out there. Maybe something has bitten you?”

Yeah, almost. A goddamn werewolf or whatever it was.

Okay, so today I’m feeling more grumpy than scared, that’s an improvement. I frown over my scrambled eggs, mindlessly staring at them and thinking about last night’s encounter with a clearer mind. So, again, what the hell happened there? Was it really Owen? I recall the bright blue eyes and purse my lips. Yeah, there’s no one in or around the town who would have even remotely similar eye color.

Alright, so if the wolf was Owen, then why did he come to me? And if it wasn’t, then what on earth was Owen doing there? I didn’t see the transformation clearly, but damn, he couldn’t have run over and scared the wolf away so quickly, right? God, my head starts to ache from all the questions without answers.

For a few minutes, I wonder if I should share this with someone else. But who can I talk to? Grandma? Rorie? Abel? I hum. Yes, Abel would have at least some of the answers— he is Owen’s cousin, after all. But what if he decides that I’m crazy? Honestly, the story would sound insane even to me. Meeting a giant wolf that turns out to be a hot man—isn’t that a story straight from a movie screen?

On the other hand, even if Abel or anyone else did believe me—or at least, the part with a gorgeous silver wolf running near Raywald—wouldn’t they organize a hunting party? There are a few hunters in the town, and just a single word about the wolf could put him in danger. And maybe I don’t like Owen but not that much, okay?

Eventually, I stop caring about Owen and the wolf and focus on the sensation running through my body. After breakfast, I lock myself up in my room and try to figure out what it is and what I can do with it. If it’s the remnants of the flash of light from last night, then surely I can pull out at least a single sparkle from my hands.

I try everything that comes to mind: swaying hands in every direction, thinking hard about the wolf, wiggling my fingers, and concentrating on the sensation with all my might. I even stare at myself in the mirror, hoping to catch any kind of glow or sparkle on my body or in my eyes.

Nothing works, and in the end I give up on the attempts to understand it on my own and reach for the almighty internet. But no matter how many times I change the wording and how many pages I scroll through, all I get is a list of fantasy books and movies and a bunch of videos with poor special effects. Yeah, very helpful. I even read through a forum about paranormal activities only to realize half an hour later that it’s a gathering of movie fans.

But I have to admit that after last night, I look at the stories about the supernatural with fresh eyes. I even end up watching a movie with a description that sounds a little like my situation. It turns out to be a low-budget fantasy drama that only wastes my time—but at least it distracts me from the nervous thoughts. The possibility of me being crazy grows with every passing hour.

I have another evening shift today, so I arrive at Till Dawn around five and well, I should’ve figured, right? I should’ve known Owen would be looking for me as well. But it occurs to me only when Rorie gestures for me to come closer and murmurs with a teasing smirk, “Do you know who’s been asking about you?”

Yeah, I think I’ve figured—but out loud, I only ask with a curious frown, “Who?”

“Owen,” Rorie announces with a chuckle, and I give her my best look of surprise. “Looks like someone’s laid an eye on you. Maybe you reconsider your opinion about him?”

I think about the huge, growling wolf and swallow, mustering as much of a careless smile as I can. Reconsider? Yeah, sure, why not.

But when Owen walks into the diner some half an hour after the start of my shift, I can’t help a flash of fear at the sight of him. Last time I saw those blue eyes they were staring at me with unnatural bright light. Our gazes meet, and I can see how Owen pauses in his tracks, probably noticing my panic. But instead of going straight to me, he turns to take a seat at an empty booth.

Is he giving me time to collect myself? What a gentleman. But Owen is one of the customers now, so I can’t avoid him forever. After a few minutes of multiple excuses, I take a deep breath and walk over to him.

“Are you ready to order?” I ask with a stiff smile, holding up my notepad like a shield. To my surprise, Owen doesn’t try to catch my gaze and focuses on the menu with a calm nod.

“Yes. Cola, pepperoni, and we need to talk.”

Here we go. I purse my lips. He doesn’t expect me to give up so easily, does he?

“Sorry, we only have Hawaiian pizza left.”

What a joy it is to see Owen scrunch his nose in distaste and look through the menu again. “Anything without pineapples?”

“Nothing.”

He looks up at me with suspicion, and I shrug. Did I answer too fast? Maybe. I don’t care enough about his tastes to check with Sam, and I guess Owen knows that. He quirks an eyebrow, and I see irritation building up in him again—but this time, he only huffs and looks at the menu again.

“Then bacon cheeseburger. And what about that talk?”

“I will let you know when I’m ready.” I give him a quick and empty smile and turn away, enjoying the way he scoffs again behind me.

Whenever I glance at him from behind the counter, Owen isn’t looking at me, but his scowl is grim and his frame is tense. He does look like a grumpy wolf, to be honest, but for some reason it doesn’t scare me. It makes me smile instead.

But no matter how much fun it is to tease him, I have to admit that Owen is the only person I can honestly talk to right now. With the rush of work, I can ignore the glow of energy in my veins—but it is still there, and I still don’t know what to do with it. So when his order is ready, I bring it to him without the fake smile.

“Enjoy your meal. And I finish at eleven—come pick me up if it’s not too late for you.”

Owen’s eyes widen in surprise, but a moment later his expression is back to being calm and collected. He nods. “Okay.” I turn away to leave, not expecting more from him, but Owen clears his throat then and adds, “Thanks.”

I can’t help a surprised glance his way. When did he learn how to be nice to me? It’s a pleasant surprise, even though the miracle doesn't last long. Owen doesn't even look at me for the rest of his meal and afterward leaves without a word—but I count it as a baby step toward a proper conversation. Good job!

I try not to think about our meeting for the rest of my shift, but it’s hard, especially when there aren’t that many customers to distract me. Should I get ready for it somehow? Should I prepare a list of questions or something? There have been so many of them, but the closer it gets to the end of my shift, the weirder they sound in my head. Maybe I did see things that weren’t there after all, and Owen just wants to tell me I'm insane.

By the time I pass the shift over to Mrs. Silva—a lovely woman who usually stays for the night at Till Dawn—and leave the diner, I’m too tired to care about what we are going to talk about. Maybe Owen even forgot about the meetup? I linger in front of Till Dawn, just a little bit hopeful that I wouldn’t have to talk to him—but no, I quickly spot him in the shadows of the trees growing near the parking lot.