Back at her dorm room, Allie stood contemplating before the narrow full-length mirror that hung on the back of her closet door. She held up dress after dress in front of herself, as she attempted to decide which she should wear for her date that evening.

On the other side of the room her roommate Vanessa, was flopped out on her own bed, headphones on, as she perused a heavy oversized book. She was a slightly larger girl, dressed all in black, her long hair dyed the colour of ravens. Her natural hair colour: a much lighter brown, was beginning to peek out at the roots. Her top was low cut, revealing ample cleavage. A pendant: a crimson heart-shaped stone, encircled by two small pewter dragons and strung on a black ribbon, rested just above her bosom. Occasionally she would glance up from her book to watch Allie pick through her closet for yet another dress.

“You know,” Van said flatly, slipping off her earphones “you’d look great in any one of those.”

Allie turned towards her roommate, a look of surprise on her face. It wasn’t often that Vanessa offered up her opinion, and rarer still that it wasn’t snarky and condescending.

“Oh, you think so?” Allie asked frowning at her reflection.

“Yeah, so what’s the problem? You have half your closet thrown on your bed. Why can’t you choose something?”

Allie sighed as she let the dress she was holding drop down. “I don’t know, just nervous I guess.” She sat down on the edge of her own bed, facing Van. “I’ve never dated anyone other than Ethan.” She admitted. “And I guess this,” she said with a sweep of her arm to the pile of clothes on the bed beside her, “all feel like something I would wear for him.”

Van looked at her thoughtfully. “You must really like this new guy, huh?”

Allie thought back to her time with Damon. How she had danced with Molly and her friends while he sat in the booth, watching and sipping his drink. There was something titillating in the way he stared; like she was his prey—like something he wanted to devour whole—until finally, he had joined them. Shivers broke out across her skin as she recalled his touch, the way Damon had suddenly come up behind her, pressing up tight against her back, his arms encircling her. He pulled her in close to him, leaning down so that his cheek brushed against her own. She could feel his breath against her skin, as his lips began to gently tease her earlobe.

He had awakened something in her that she couldn’t quite explain; had made her feel more desired—perhaps more alive than anyone ever had, and she wanted to experience that same feeling again. “I really do,” Allie admitted. Her eyes dropped as she spoke. “There’s something so seductive and even a bit dangerous about him. He just makes me feel so…”

“Desirable.” Vanessa whispered, rising from her bed. She took the dress from Allie and tossed it to the bed with the rest of the clothing. She took Allie by the hands, pulling her to her feet as she sized her up. “Right.” She said with a determined air. “Let’s do this.”

***

Nick moaned softly in his sleep, his brow furrowing as he slowly regained consciousness. On the floor beside him, wedged between the couch and the coffee table, Damon had finally fallen asleep, his head leaning awkwardly against the armrest of the sofa.

As Nick stirred, Damon too woke. He opened his eyes to see Nick’s blue ones starring back at him. Sweet relief immediately flooded over him. He quickly pulled himself upright. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

On the far side of the room camped out on the loveseat, Nathan too was waking from under a blanket. The remaining piece of furniture and smallest in comparison was the easy chair, in which Ryan’s large form was curled up. On the table next to him was a teacup and in his lap a magazine, still open to whatever article Ryan had been reading before he dozed off.

“What’s going on?” Nick looked groggy and confused, as Damon rose, pushing the coffee table out of his way as he did.

“Why don’t you tell us?” Ryan was suddenly leaning over him, taking up his wrist, shining a light in his eyes and checking his pulse.

“Well, it looks like a slumber party to me.” Nick said sitting up and swinging his feet to the floor. “Are we going to braid each other’s hair next and do our nails? Because you know, I could be down with that.”

Ryan dropped his wrist as he stood, turning to Damon. “Eyes look good. Pulse is strong and steady. Mouth is running at full capacity—I’d say your problem child is going to make a full recovery.” He clapped Damon sympathetically on the arm as he spoke. “Best of luck with that.”

Ryan moved to the balcony door and opened the heavy curtains. Night had descended while they slept. “I’ve got to head home, shower and change. Saturday night at the Pitt—it’s going to be busy.”

Damon joined him on the balcony. His voice was low as they grasped hands and clasped each other across the back in a quick embrace. “You have my thanks—

Stepping back to face him, Ryan quickly cut him off. “No thanks necessary,” his voice was gentle and warm. “The kid’s family.”

Across the room, Nathan was finally getting to his feet. “Okay if I catch a ride?” Ryan nodded and beckoned him forward in response. Crossing the room, he paused awkwardly in front of Nick. “See you at the Pitt later?” he asked meekly.

Nate looked as tired and disheveled as Damon felt. His clothes were wrinkled from his nap on the love seat and his hair was wild and unruly. It was apparent that all three of them had lost sleep today.

“Sure. I’ll be there.” Nick replied.

“No, you won’t,” Damon said matter-of-factly, as he took Nathan by the arm and pulled him aside. Once more he lowered his voice as he spoke. “Hey. We need to talk about what happened—

“It was nothing,” Nate responded, cheeks flushed as he pulled his arm free.

“Nothing?” his brows raised as he watched Nathan squirm.

“Just a momentary lapse—listen, I gotta go or I’m going to miss my ride.”

Damon sighed, bringing his hand to his brow. There he pinched the skin between his eyes as he considered things. He was drained; exhausted and defeated, so he made the conscious decision to let things slide—deal with one delinquent at a time—for the moment at least.

“We are going to discuss this,” he called out to Nate, who making a break for it, was already perched precariously on the iron rail of his balcony. Ryan had previously dropped to the ground below. A second later Nate too was gone, leaving just the two of them.

Damon turned back to Nick who was still on the sofa. The blanket that covered him was now draped across his lap. He could see that the bite and scratch marks that had covered his chest and arms had already healed. It was a good sign.

“You hungry?”

“Uh, yeah.” Nick looked up. “Starving, actually.”

“What do you want? I’ll order something in for you.” Damon went to the kitchen, where there was a drawer full of menu’s and flyers from local eateries. “Italian, or perhaps Chinese?”

“Chinese sounds good.” Nick was on his feet, blanket wrapped around his hips as he joined him in the kitchen.

“Okay, which would you prefer? Jade Dragon, or Lucky Panda?” He held two brightly coloured menu’s in his hand.

“Really?” Nick asked, giving him a look.

“Lucky Panda it is. Want your usual?” Damon, cell phone in hand, was already dialing. He glanced up in time to catch Nick smelling his armpit, his nose wrinkled with distaste.

“Sure. I’m gonna take a quick shower.”

“Yes. Please do.” He said with the appropriate amount of snarky in his voice. The disgruntled look he received in exchange made the stress and worry of the day worth it. Nick was going to be okay.

***

In the bathroom, Nick stared at his reflection in the mirror. He could see faint marks across his body; areas of pink, newly healed skin that told the story of the previous night’s endeavors. By morning, even they would be gone. He wondered how much Damon knew. There would be questions, but for now, Damon was playing it cool. That wouldn’t last however, and Nick would be forced to come up with an answer that would satisfy his overprotective guardian.

Two bandages graced his body: a large one on his shoulder, the other on his opposite hip. He worked at the one on his side first, pulling back the tape that secured it and peeking beneath. The wound there was almost entirely healed. Carefully he pulled it off the rest of the way, wincing slightly as it grabbed at his skin. It was remarkably really, how little body hair he had, considering his pedigree. He’d known wolven males who were literally quite hairy in both their forms. Nick on the other hand, struggled to grow a beard. He could go days without shaving, only to be rewarded with patchy spots at best.

He discarded the bandage into the waste bucket before turning his attention to the one at his shoulder. Beneath this dressing, he could see ugly stitch marks where a larger wound had been sewn closed. That one, he realized would take longer to heal. He pressed the tape back down before turning on the shower behind him and stepping in.

He let the hot water cascade over him as the steam rose, quickly fogging up the glass. While his wounds had mostly healed, his muscles still ached, remembering their ordeal from the previous night. He only wished that his mind too, remembered.

There were bits and pieces of course. They came in fragments, as unfamiliar moments that seemed to belong to someone else: a bloody smile, tearing and snarling teeth, a black wolf. What it all meant however was lost to him. It seemed his wolf self was trying to hide the worst of that night from him, perhaps to protect him. The truth was, he couldn’t remember how he had made it home last night.

Stepping out of the shower, Nick shook his head, spraying droplets of water across the vanity and mirror. Wiping a spot clear in the fog covered glass, he took a moment to grab a comb from the drawer before running it through his dark mane. Naked, he stepped into the hall, stopping briefly to grab a towel from the adjacent closet. He began drying off as he headed down the hall to Damon’s bedroom. He flipped the light switch as he entered the room. There was no overhead light in the older room. Instead an antique floor lamp on the far side of the room came to life. Its glow was mellow and unobtrusive to even the most sensitive of eyes.

Searching through the dresser, Nick soon picked out a pair of navy gym shorts and a charcoal-grey Henley which he immediately slipped on before heading out to the living room to find Damon.

***

While Nick cleaned up his act, Damon busied himself by cleaning up the living room: tossing out the bloody towels and used supplies. He righted furniture, returning it to its original position, folded blankets and put the Tupperware of medical supplies away. When he was finished, his living space once more resembled its usual state of order and less like the war zone of moments before.

He was sitting in the easy chair, watching the evening news when Nick returned from his shower. As soon as Nick dropped onto the sofa, he passed him his phone.

“You need to call Vaughn,” he informed him.

Nick took the phone but not without question. “Why?”

“Because I told her you would.”

Nick was hesitant, “So, uh, Penn…she was here?”

“Yep. You’ve got about a quart of her running through your veins,” Damon said as he examined Nicks face. He looked positively uncomfortable. It was rare for Nick’s cocky self-assured smile to leave his face, but Damon knew that when it came to Penelope, Nick felt neither of those things. He suspected that Nick was more than a bit smitten with the elder wolf, though he had never admitted as much. “She helped save your life.”

Nick sighed as he disappeared back up the stairs and into Damon’s bedroom, taking the phone with him. When he returned a few minutes later, to once more take up his spot on the sofa, Damon snapped off the flat screen, pulled his chair forward and turned to face him. He dropped the arrowhead on the coffee table between them.

“Let’s have it,” He said with a look and calmness that made Nick cringe. At times, it was hard for him to look at Nick, and still not see the child he had raised.

“I honestly, don’t know,” Nick began with a shrug. “I can’t even explain how I got here.”

His response didn’t surprise Damon. Nick often spoke of his alter self as if it was a completely independent identity, with its own impulses, drives and memories. He’d often complained that the gap within his dualitiy seemed to directly coincide with the phases of the moon—and if that was indeed the case, Damon surmised that the events of last night shouldn’t be too hard to dislodge from that thick skull of his. Last nights moon, had been only half full.

“So, start with what you do remember then.” Damon encouraged. “Where were you last night?”

“The Pitt.”

Damon’s brow arched in surprise. He couldn’t recall seeing Nick at all last night. While it was true that he’d spent a good part of the evening playing cards in back, it was still unusual that they hadn’t crossed paths at least once that evening.

“I don’t remember seeing you.” his words were cautious.

Nick’s words were nervous. “I’, uh, left early to help a friend.”

“Oh? Which friend?’ He fixed Nick with a look. Only hours earlier, the pup had descended upon his doorstep, a mangled and bloody mess. There was no way he was letting him off that easily.

“You don’t know him—”

“Try me.”

Nick licked his lips nervously. “Jaylen.”

“The wolf cub.”

Nick dropped his eyes, looking defeated. “Uh, yeah.”

“So, you were up at that cabin,” Damon stated matter-of-factly.

Nick was dumbfounded. “You know about the cabin?”

Damon sighed, finally breaking his gaze. “Of course, I know about the cabin, Nick. I know about those wolf-boys you’ve been running around with. What I don’t know, is what the hell you were thinking, and why you felt you had to hide it from me.” He shifted irritably in his seat. “Is Penelope involved in this?” It wasn’t like he needed another reason to hate on the she-wolf.

Nick shook his head adamantly. “No. Absolutely not. Penn doesn’t believe in inter-city packs. She says that they’re no better than gangs and that without a proper alpha, all you have is a group of hoodlums, which can only lead to violence and crime, and before you know it, turf wars with the vamps.”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

For a moment, Damon was speechless. Once more the she-wolf surprised him. “She’s probably right.”

“But that’s not what I was trying to accomplish.” Nick attempted to explain. “I was just trying to help those kids understand what was happening to them… perhaps give them a place to call home. That’s why I chose the cabin. It’s isolated; far enough from the city that if a wolf got out under the full moon, the only thing that’s going to get injured is a rabbit or two. Worst case, a deer. Their wolf would be distracted by the sounds and smells of the forest, and its instincts would keep it as far away from civilization as possible.” There was a bitterness in his voice as he continued. “Those boys didn’t ask for what happened to them. They were turned and abandoned. It just…wasn’t right.”

Damon realized that Nick was being sincere. It was a step in the right direction, and it was hard to stay angry with him, especially when his bleeding heart was in the right place. Still, something had happened at that cabin—

A knock at the door forced the end of their conversation, as Nick bolted off the sofa like a child escaping a time out. Damon was once more reminded of how bloody quick wolven could heal.

He reached the kitchen as Nick was opening the door.

“Food’s here,” Nick called as he invited the delivery guy into the apartment. He grabbed the bag of food and disappeared down to the living room.

Damon greeted the delivery guy as he fished out money from the cow-shaped cookie jar on the kitchen counter. He paid the delivery boy; a twenty-something Asian man that he recognized and, tipped him a fifty, before holding up a second bill. “Interested in making a quick buck?” he asked as he tapped the side of his neck.

When the man nodded, Damon wasted no time. He slammed him up against the door and wrenched his head aside. He ran his finger along his now exposed neck, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat increase. Although the man had consented, the reality of what was now happening had him terrified. Damon’s fangs descended and he pierced flesh. His racing pulse would make feeding from him so much easier; the man’s rapid heart would now do most of the work.

Moments later, he heard Nick in the kitchen behind them.

“Seriously, Dude?” He sounded disgruntled. “No chopsticks?”

The delivery boy, head now lolled back in delirious ecstasy, his hand clutching the shoulder of Damon’s shirt for support, held out a second smaller bag in his opposite hand.

“Thanks, man.” Nick said slapping the delivery boy on the shoulder before heading back down to the living room. “Oh, my God!” Nick shortly exclaimed, his mouth sounded full of food. “Best noodles ever!”

Damon soon pulled himself away from the delivery man. Feeding from the living was always a delicate matter. He had to be careful not to take too much, which often meant drawing away before he was satisfied. Damon enjoyed the taste of human blood almost as much as the intimacy involved in getting it. The feeling of warm supple flesh against him, the sound of a racing heartbeat, the delicate or sometimes musky scent of their skin; it was almost as much of an addiction as the blood drinking itself—and not only for himself, he surmised. The delivery man was still gripping him, eyes closed, basking in the euphoria he was experiencing. For the humans too, the act of the bloodletting could be as equally addictive.

When the delivery-boy finally opened his eyes moments later, Damon paid him for his services before compelling him to silence and sending him on his way.

***

Allie couldn’t believe the transformation. At first, she had been hesitant when Van had offered to make her over. Although they had been roommates for a couple months now, neither of them seemed to have much in common with the other. But what she had done was exactly what Allie had been looking for. Van had gone to her closet and picked out a black tunic with long sleeves and an asymmetrical hemline. It was a shirt on Vanessa, but on Allie is was a short and very sexy dress. It could be tied in at the back, emphasizing her waistline, until it flared out at her hips in a double layered skirt. The long sleeves had peek-a-boo holes up the sides, revealing skin and fitting snugly until it reached her wrists where it once again flared out ever so slightly over the back of her hands. It was low cut in the front, ending in a deep v between her breasts, where it was laced with a black ribbon, that allowed the wearer to reveal as little or as much skin as they desired.

Her hair, had been left long and straight, parted off-center with a cascade braid falling on either side and eventually joining up in the back. Her make-up was darker than Allie had ever worn it before; her eyes were done in a shimmery Smokey-eye of dark silver and black. Her lips, Van had wanted to paint a dark red, however Allie had refused. Instead she chose a barely-there gloss in a champagne colour.

This look was something that she would never wear for Ethan, but it was dark and sexy and perfect for Damon. She was excited to be seeing him again, and when she thought of doing just that, a deliciously nervous feeling rose from the pit of her stomach.

Allie glanced at the clock. It was just after eight. As soon as Van had finished her make-over, she’d quickly changed and left for her job. She worked weekends at a private club, of which Allie couldn’t remember the name. Her shift usually had her leaving late and often not returning until daybreak. Allie assumed that she had a boyfriend whom she stayed with afterwards and had even asked her once, to which Van had only smiled coyly.

“A boyfriend?” she had repeated quietly. “No. That I don’t have. Although I do have a lover.” Van’s eyes had sparkled as she spoke of him. “He’s a much older man, and our relationship…well, I doubt you’d understand.”

Van’s attitude made Allie wonder if he was not only older, but perhaps married as well. It seemed to her at least, to be the most likely explanation for all the secrecy.

Allie spent the next few minutes tidying up her side of the room, returning clothes to hangers and then to their rightful place in her closet. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she then slipped on a pair of thigh-high stockings that Van had lent her, before examining herself once more in the mirror. She liked how the stockings stopped just at the hem of her skirt. They were school-girlish and scandalous both at the same time. For shoes, she was on her own. Van was much taller and any of her shoes were at least two sizes too large for Allie. Still, she thought she had the perfect pair of ankle boots that would work well enough to complete the look.

She was digging under her bed for the shoes, when the phone on her desk came to life. She snatched it up and smiled as she saw Faith’s name as the caller identity in question.

“Haaay,” She said joyfully, unable to contain her excitement.

“What’cha up to?” Faith’s voice asked sounding crystal clear and completely bored.

“Just finished getting ready for my date. You?”

“Cashing out the till. We just closed up shop.”

“We?” Faith worked nights at her family’s store after school. She seemed to share the shifts with her younger cousin. “You and… Trish?”

“Tish” Faith corrected her. “And no, if Tish was working, I’d be done by now. Instead I’m stuck working with my Uncle and just between you and me, his presence here is more of a nuisance than a help.”

“I heard that!”

Allie smiled as she overheard the male voice in the background. The next moment they were arguing in a teasing sort of way that made her immediately homesick.

“Sorry about that,” Faith said resuming their conversation. “So, are you meeting him at the Pitt?”

Allie, on the floor of her room, straightened up after finally retrieving her shoes. “Yup. Going to cab it over, have a few drinks and see where the night leads us.” Allie said in her most mischievous voice.

“Why you little tart.” Faith said in a hushed tone. “Well, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Allie couldn’t help but giggle with her parting words. “Fortunately for me, that leaves things wide open.”

***

After dinner, Damon descended to the living room carrying a bottle of amber coloured liquor and two glasses. He set them down upon the coffee table amongst the take-out cartons before dropping down onto the sofa beside Nick. Uncapping the bottle he poured them each a drink, sliding one of them in Nick’s direction.

Nick looked at his glass a bit suspiciously before he picked it up. “I’m not really a hard liquor sort of guy.” He stated flatly.

“Come on, have a drink with me.” Damon encouraged him. “It’s been one hell of a day.” Without waiting for an answer, he clinked glasses with Nick before taking a healthy sip of his drink. He smiled when Nick took a generous swig himself before exhaling with enthusiasm.

“Whoo! That is something.”

“Yeah. It’ll get the job done.”

“Remove paint too,” Nick agreed before tossing back the rest of his drink.

Damon quickly followed suit, and when Nick set his glass back down, he immediately poured them both a second round.

Nick’s suspicions now seemed confirmed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get me drunk.”

“Obviously,” Damon smiled. “You’re more malleable that way.”

“Malleable?”

“Do you prefer pliable?”

“I’d prefer to know what you’re up to.”

Damon picked up the arrowhead from its place on the table. He held it up gingerly as he spoke. “This was no accident, Nick. A silver arrowhead filled with wolfsbane poison. This was a hit, and you barely survived. We need to know what we are up against; what kind of threat we’re facing and get ahead of it if we can.” As he returned the arrowhead to the table, his voice was grave. “We need to know what happened in the wood last night.”

Nick looked grim, “So, what are you thinking?”

Damon leaned forward as he turned to face Nick. He’d gotten the idea after his meal of delivery boy. “I want to try to compel you to remember.”

Nick reached for his glass, apparently needing that second drink after all. He took a healthy swig before speaking. “Is that even possible?”

Damon shrugged. “I think it’s worth a try. I mean, you’d have to be open to it—that is, to letting me into your head. I doubt it would work otherwise.”

“And the alcohol?” Nick asked as he finished his glass.

Damon picked up his own glass and shrugged. “Can’t hurt.”

***

Another drink later, Nick found himself stretched out on the sofa with a pillow beneath his head. Damon had dimmed the lights and slid his easy chair up to the edge of the sofa beside him.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable?” Damon asked. “I could fetch a blanket.”

“I’m as comfortable as I’m gonna be with you fawning over me like this.” Nick retorted.

“I’m just trying to help. This won’t work if you’re not relaxed.”

“If it works at all, you mean,” Nick wasn’t completely sold on the idea, but Damon had been insistent. The idea of letting someone mess around with his head—even if it was Damon, left him uneasy.

Damon however, seemed more than eager to get things rolling. “Okay, just relax, listen to my voice and we’ll start from the beginning. You met up with Jaylen and together the two of you went to that cabin in the woods.”

Nick frowned. “No. That’s not what happened. I left him behind, at the lock-house. I didn’t want him to get hurt.”

“Why did you think he would be hurt?” Damon’s voice was low and soothing.

“Because of the wolf. When Jaylen met up with me, he said that he and the boys spotted a wolf slinking around the cabin and they were afraid that it was a werewolf.”

“Alright. So, you went to the cabin to search for the wolf.”

Nick closed his eyes and nodded.

“Walk me through it, step by step. Tell me what you did first.”

“Well, first I got undressed—.”

“Naked. I might have guessed.”

There was a hint of smug amusement in his voice that didn’t sit well with Nick. “Well, you asked.” Nick retorted sitting up. “This is waste of time. I just don’t remember anything after my wolf took over.”

Damon placed a gentle hand on Nick’s chest before pushing him back down. “You will.” He said patiently. He tapped Nick on the noggin. “It’s in here somewhere. You and your wolf are one and the same. You know what he knows. Now let’s try again.”

Nick sighed but closed his eyes and settled back into the sofa as instructed.

“Hey. Do you remember the nanny you had when we stayed in London? It wasn’t long after we fled Cairnbarrow.”

Nick opened his eyes in surprise, to find Damon staring at him intently. His green eyes were overwhelming—piercingly so—his gaze intensely strong. So caught in their depths, he failed to notice Damon’s lips moving or the words that he carefully whispered.

Nick blinked. “London?” He hadn’t thought about that in over a century. It was so long ago. “Which one?” he asked surprised. “Cook-nanny, or spinster-nanny.”

“Wait—Cook-nanny?” It was now Damon who looked surprised.

“Yeah. We had two, remember. Spinster nanny was certain that she would eventually marry you and ship me off to boarding school. After you sacked her, there was cook nanny. She was the one who kept trying to feed you cause she thought you were too skinny.”

A look of recollection crossed Damon’s eyes. “I had completely forgotten about cook-nanny. Yeah, no. I was thinking about spinster-nanny.”

“What about her?” Nick had no idea where this strange conversation was heading. The woman in question had been dead for over a century.

“I was just thinking about how whenever she went out to do the shopping, I’d let you run around the house in wolf form and how she’d get so frustrated when she got back to find dog hair everywhere. It used to drive her crazy. She couldn’t understand where it came from: it was down the hallway, all over the furniture—”

“In her bed,” Nick chimed in.

“Her bed?”

“I used to roll around in her bed.” Nick said with a smirk. “She wasn’t a nice person, Damon. She was a horrible care-giver.”

“But you remember that?”

“Of course, I remember. You were gone all the time, days and nights, sometimes weeks I was left alone with her—”

Damon shook his head. “No. I mean, you remember rolling in her bed, as a wolf pup. I don’t know if you realize this, but when you were a child there was no separation between you and your wolf. You were one and the same; if you can recall something that happened well over a century ago—”

“Then I can remember last night.”

Damon was smiling at him. “You can remember last night. Are you ready to try again?”

Nick nodded and settling back into the sofa, closed his eyes.

Once more, Damon set the scene. “Alright, so you are alone in the woods. It’s dark out. Do you see the cabin?”

Nick took a deep breath and tried to relax. He tried to picture the one-story stone and wood structure with its pane glass windows and wrap around porch. “Yes. I can see it. It’s quiet and dark, but I can see lantern light from within.”

“And what happens next?”

“I get undressed, and I let my wolf take charge. There are smells everywhere: wildlife, damp soil, wet trees and foliage—and man smells.” Now that he was no longer fighting the process, memories began to take shape. Nick was slowly starting to remember. It was strange how his viewpoint was suddenly so low to the ground. As he spoke the images became clearer, more vivid. “I have a scent, its coming on the wind, so I head in that direction.” He remembered running through the long grass, turning sharply around trees and brush as he closed in on the scent and then an unnatural sound—

Nick winced and grabbed his damaged shoulder, sucking in air as he did. “Shit. I’m hit. It burns.” He struggled to breathe as pain radiated down his side, it was overwhelming. Damon took his hand, squeezing it tight.

“Nick, listen to me. You’re safe.” Damon told him. “Listen to my voice. Let go of the pain. You don’t need to remember the pain.” Damon’s hand was in his hair, petting him gently. He hated that he liked his head stroked as much as his wolf did, but it worked. He found it immediately calming. After a moment, Damon spoke again. “Do you want to continue?”

Nick nodded. He was ready.

“What happens next?”

He was now running full tilt with a sudden feeling of urgency. “I’ve located him. I’ve found the hunter.”

Nick could remember leaping, the weight of his body knocking the hunter down. How Niko had lunged at the man’s throat and grabbed hold. How his teeth had sunk easily into flesh, and how the hunter’s blood had leaked into his mouth. There was no turning back after that—his wolf’s prey-drive had completely taken over. Holding tight, he began to viciously pull and twist causing the seized flesh to tear—

Nick leapt from the sofa, hand over mouth, he raced to the bathroom just making it in time. So much for his dinner. When he was finished, he looked up to see Damon in the doorway.

“I remember.” Nick said hoarsely. “I killed him. I killed the hunter.” He leaned back against the counter, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You’re sure he’s dead?” Damon looked grim, but relieved.

“Pretty sure. I ripped his throat clean open.” Now he couldn’t get the grisly vision out of his head: the horrible blood-filled smile, the desperate gurgling sound as the hunter choked on his own blood. “I watched the light leave his eyes. He was dead when I left him.” The impact, the totality of what he had done was wearing on him fast. He’d taken a life. Killed a man. Somebody’s son. Somebody’s father. Somebody’s brother.

He leaned forward, head in his hands. “Can we be done now?” He begged. “I’ve done what you asked. I’ve remembered—he’s no longer a threat to us.”

***

Damon dropped to a squat in front of Nick and pulled his hands from his face, before replacing them with his own. He kissed the top of his head, and then leaned down until their foreheads were touching. “Of course, Nick.” He said softly, “I’m sorry you had to go through that, but I needed to be sure.”

Releasing Nick, he rose and extended his arm, to pull him to his feet. He headed into the hall, and when he realized Nick hadn’t immediately followed, he retraced his steps. He peeked back into the bathroom.

Nick was standing solemnly in front of the mirror.

“Hey. You okay?”

Nick continued to stare into the mirror, leaning heavily on his arms; hands placed on either side of one of the sinks.

“Nick?”

He seemed to start then, as if coming out of a daze. He didn’t turn, but instead met his gaze in the mirror. “Yeah?”

“You, coming?”

Nick nodded. “Yeah. I’m… just gonna brush my teeth.” He smiled at him then, but the result was rather lackluster compared to his usually bright and infectious grin.

“Okay.” Damon lingered in the doorway. “You sure, you’re okay?”

Nick looked genuinely surprised. “Sure.” He opened the drawer and pulled out his toothbrush and a tube of paste. He made a show of overloading his toothbrush before shoving it in his mouth and ending any further conversation.

Damon returned to the living room. He slid the coffee table back to its spot in front of the sofa, before gathering up the cartons of left-over Chinese and carrying them up to the kitchen. There he consolidated what he could into two remaining containers before pitching the rest. Opening the refrigerator, he stashed the boxes of take-out within. The inside of his fridge looked like it belonged to the proverbial bachelor—with the addition of a few more unorthodox provisions. Nearly barren of food, it instead held: two wilted looking limes, a quartet of beer, one rather fuzzy looking container of salsa, a half jar of dill pickles and two pints of O+ blood. He threw the door closed and returned to the living room.

“We’re going to have to order some groceries.” He called out as he descended the stairs. “With you being away, I’m afraid there’s not much here for you to eat.”

Nick who was now sitting silently on the sofa, said nothing. Instead, he appeared to be deep in thought as he stared at the blank television screen.

“Do you want to watch some television?” He dropped down on the sofa beside him and offered him the remote. What was it the kids were always saying? “We could Webflicks and chill?”

Nick looked at him as if he had sprouted a second head. “I don’t think you know what that means.”

“Oh?”

“I think,” Nick said quietly, “That I’d like to head to bed.”

“Okay.” Damon nodded, understanding.

Damon took his turn in the bathroom. When he finished brushing his teeth, he retired to his room to find that Nick had already climbed into bed. He had taken up a spot on the farthest side, his back turned to him. Quietly, Damon stripped down to his boxers and threw on a tee, before climbing in on his own side of the bed. He lay quietly for a while but could tell by Nick’s breathing that he was still fully awake.

He turned on his side to face him. “Are you really okay?” There was more to the story—much more than what Nick had offered up. After all, those scratches and bite marks hadn’t come from any hunter.

Nick shrugged in the darkness. “Sure.” His voice was quiet, distant.

Damon sighed. He’d be getting nothing more from him tonight. “Sweet dreams, then.” Reaching out, he tousled his hair affectionately, before rolling over.

From the opposite side of the bed, Nick stared into darkness. Sweet dreams were the last thing he was anticipating. Instead, he kept replaying the lost images over and over in his mind. Damon’s experiment at memory recall had worked better than expected. He had remembered much more than what he had been willing to admit to Damon. The truth was, he had remembered everything.