Wolf

Wolffe was on the last bin and Christa still hadn’t emerged from her room yet. But the biggest thing he had noticed about her in the little time he’d known her was her slight OCD-everything had a place and everything must be in that place.
He was getting to the bottom of the bin when he discovered a picture. There had been others: some of her and who he assumed were her parents, one of her in a cap and gown, and ironically, a photograph of a wolf with brown eyes. He had stared at that photograph for a long time. The wolf was black and the brown eyes were all animal; Wolffe felt like he was looking in a mirror. But this last photograph froze him.
Benoit sensed the subtle change in Wolffe and picked his head up from where he’d been lying next to the couch. His brother was completely frozen and his thoughts had gone French-and there were no nice words in his thoughts.
Wolffe? He drew the word out, even in his thoughts. Wolffe didn’t respond. Wolffe? He tried again. What is it a picture of Satan? Wolffe’s thoughts were getting more volatile and he was starting to vibrate.
Benoit rose quickly to his feet and let out a low growl. Luce, this time with more warning to Benoit’s thoughts. But the vibrating was getting worse. Lucifer!
A feral growl was ripped from Wolffe’s throat. Automatically Benoit’s ears went back. No matter how tough he acted, he knew Wolffe was the alpha and he hadn’t seen him this mad in decades.
Luce you need to get ahold of yourself, Benoit tried to reason. The vibrating was getting worse and Wolffe’s form was starting to blur. He hoped that using Wolffe’s real name might snap him back to reality, but it didn’t seem to be working. He bared his teeth and his canines started to grow. Benoit panicked. He lunged at Wolffe, grabbing his sleeve as gently as he could.
Wolffe dropped the photograph, causing the glass to shatter. The sound seemed to snap Wolffe back into reality. The vibrating subsided, his pupils shrunk and he unclenched his jaw. He stared at the picture and stood abruptly. He looked quickly to the hallway where Christa’s door was still shut. He shut his brain off, not thinking of the picture, not thinking of Benoit, not thinking of anything but get out. He turned on his heel and stormed out of the apartment, opening and slamming the front door abruptly.
Benoit stared after his brother. Then he looked to the photograph. Of their own accord, his hackles raised. He worked to smooth them out as he heard Christa’s bedroom door open and close.
“Wolffe?” she asked, noticing that he was nowhere to be seen. Benoit was sitting by the couch, looking confused. Then she noticed the frame lying on the floor. With a frown she went over to it. She breathed slowly out through her nose. She’d been meaning to throw the picture away for months; it had been sitting face down on her mantle since before her father’s death. She must have picked it up with the rest of the pictures on accident. Well at least now the broken glass gave her an excuse.
She picked up the shattered frame and looked at it for one last, long moment. Tom had looked so handsome that night. And Christa had been dressed in a short black dress with full make-up and fake eyelashes. She was trying to drive him crazy-and she had.
Until the clothes had come off and Tom had discovered that she was a virgin. He hadn’t said anything, just got up and left. After that everything seemed fine-a little tense but fine-then her mother was diagnosed and her father died. He was quick to say it wasn’t his family and wasted no time getting out of town. An aspiring senator didn’t need a virgin girlfriend and her family’s debts weight him down after all.
She placed the frame on the coffee table and got the picture out of the back. After staring at it for one more moment, she ripped it in half. Then again and again. When it was too thick to rip anymore, she took it to the kitchen and set up her trashcan. Out with the old, in with the new.
She came back into the living room and frowned as she looked around. Speaking of new...she started wondering where Wolffe had gone.
Benoit heard her thoughts and whined as he looked at the door.

Three hours later Wolffe was finally able to sit down without fearing that he was going to turn into a wolf without the aid of the full moon. He picked a fallen tree and sat. He let out a long sigh and looked up through the canopy. He’d walked-marched-probably a good ten miles into the forest that was in itself ten miles away from Christa’s apartment. As he sat thinking, he realized that his anger was entirely towards himself. He should have known that someone as sweet and beautiful as Christa would have a lover. She cringed a little at even the thought of her with some other man. This just made him angrier. He had already established that this woman-this girl-was off limits and here he was jealous of her boyfriend.
But where had he been when Christa was obviously struggling financially? What kind of low-life bastard would sit back and watch as his girlfriend went through the hell that Christa had been going through in the last couple of months? He started vibrating again, anger this time directed towards the brown-haired boy in the picture.
And why hadn’t he caught him on the background check he’d run on Christa? He hand his hands through his thick hair and then laid his head in his hands. The boy in the picture had looked like one of those British pop stars that teenage girls were so obsessed with. And they had looked perfect together. And he could just tell by Christa’s eyes that she was taken with the boy. Wolffe couldn’t compete with that.
And didn’t want to, he reminded himself.
“God Reese you are stubborn.”
Wolffe’s head snapped up. A mist had surrounded him while he wallowed in his misery. Now standing in front of him was the witch.
“I was under the impression that you could only appear at night,” he growled.
“And that temper.”
“My temper is precarious right now and you’re dodging of my questions is not easing it.”
“You asked a question?”
“Esmerelda,” he snarled.
“To answer your…statement. I am my strongest at midnight, I can channel the energy that is created in that hour and it makes it easier to appear but I can come to you any time I want.” There was a satisfied smile on her ghostly face.
“And why are you here?”
“You just seem like you need a friend.”
“I wasn’t aware we were friends.”
“Come on Lucifer, we’ve known each other for…how old are you?”
“You cursed me! Therefore we are not friends.”
“How many times do I have to apologize for that before you’ll let it go? I thought it was your baby-”
Wolffe held up his hand as his teeth clenched and he began to vibrate. “Don’t.” He managed to get out.
Esmerelda seemed to know that she had overstepped her boundary and she fell silent as Wolffe collected himself.
“Why are you here?” he repeated.
“Like I said, you seemed lost.”
“I’m not.”
“Don’t lie. You were pretty upset that this girl of yours had a picture of her and another man.”
“She’s no girl of mine.”
“If she wasn’t, you wouldn’t be so upset about that photograph.”
“I have no right to be upset.”
“You want this girl. Why don’t you just take her?” The witch seemed to be purposefully baiting him. He suppressed another snarl.
“This from the one who has called me a womanizer on multiple occasions,” he said as calmly as he could.
“This girl’s going to change you,” Esmerelda said with certainty.
He snorted. “I’m too old to change.”
“You’ve already started.” With that, the mist and the witch were gone.
Some help she was. Wolffe didn’t trust himself to go back to Christa’s apartment just yet. So he sat as night fell.