??A Howl In The Night??
?(She’s Mine)?
?From Novel r0m@nç£
?Chapter 15?
?The Trophy Men?
“Get up!” I throw my pillow at the mop of blue hair that never ceases to irk me. If I could, I would hit his face, but he has that and the rest of his b©dy buried un-der a mountain of covers.
A gr0@nemerges from the lifeless bundle, then silence.
“Don’t make me have to say it twice,” I narrow my eyes, crossing over to his side. I stare at the glittering blue that always manages to distract me, blinking annoyingly when it almost blinds me with its light.
He turns slightly, and I can now see his forehead and abnormally long eyelashes. Jealousy sears throu-gh me as I gaze at the portion of his face revealed. Isn’t the girl supposed to be the pretty one?
On a whim, I reach towards him and punch the bundle as ha-rd as I can. There are wretched m0@n s as the man emerges like a bu-tterfly from a cocoon, holding his arm in indignation.
“You could have just used a pillow,” he scoffs, though still spellbound un-der sleep. He leans his back against the headboard, watching me. I feel almost uncomfortable un-der his endless, measuring stare.
“Time to get up,” I state, shooting him a frightful glare when he makes no move.
“And why, exactly, is it time to get up?” he probes. I suddenly feel doubtful.
“Are we not going to school today?” I ask shakily.
He laughs heartily, sparking elation in even my heart. “No, Mona,” he corrects dreamily, “today is Saturday.”
I melt into a puddle on the ha-rd wood floor.
“Are you serious?” I squeak, backing away from his form. He reaches out quic-kly to gr-ab my arm, st©pping me in my tracks.
“I’ll forgive you,” he says, his words slurred, “for a k!ss.” His strong hand f0rç£s me closer, elevating my heart rate until it’s about to bur-st.
“Xavier!” I exclaim. He still seems to be half-asleep, yet smiling all the while.
Fright mounts as he gives a final yank, myl-ips inches from his. I have to st©p him, but how?
With no other alternative, I punch him in the che-st as ha-rd as I can, his grip temporarily loos£ning. Using that opening, I tug away, running into the hallway as fast as I can.
tou-ching my heart, I wish for it to slow down… so I can breathe.
It is all a mystery. Why is Xavier ma-king my che-st pound so ha-rd ? Even a glimpse or a simple t©uçh is spiking my heart. But it isn’t love, I’m sure.
It can’t be.
I try to block these suspicious thoughts from my mind, taking off down the narrow hallway like a bullet. It seems to continue on endlessly, door after door appearing until my bur-st of speed sputters and dies. Now I am h0t and sweaty for a different reason.
It must be that “fake” love that sparks between two mates. The savage de-sire coursing throu-gh my blood is ramp@n-t, affecting my thinking. I can’t give in to it, for then I will find myself un-der Xavier’s intoxicating spell. It is the first time in my life that I am actually afraid of… loving someone.
Well, these past few days have introduced many firsts, so I suppose I should get used to it.
I finally wind up in a dark room. I straggle along the walls, hoping to find a switch of some kind. After a little searching, I finally bu-mp into a strange, inanimate object.
Light blinds me as it floods throu-gh the room, the lamp shining like the sun.
I take in the granite countert©ps, the stainless steel appliances, the gigantic refrigerator, and luxurious oven with awe. It is so big, almost as hvge as their movie room, and spacious. I rush to a small door with anticipation, and fling it open to reveal a stockroom of every ingredient I could ever nee-d or want. It is big also, with a cooled section dedicated especially to meat. I knew their kitchen would be magnificent, but this exceeds all expectations.
Wandering over to an open cookbook, I gaze onto the lists of delectable food choices. My stomach grumbles annoyingly, and I at once decide to indulge in this fantasy world and make breakfast.
***
“Hey Mona,” Wes pops his head throu-gh the doorway, his golden hair shining in the light, “what are you doing?”
I pause at the refrigerator, turning my head at the sound of his voice. I smile a little, gr-abbing a few eggs and shutting the door afterwards. Wes weaves his way towards me, his movements fluid and smooth.
“Breakfast?” he asks in wonder, “you are actually ma-king breakfast for us?”
“So what if I am?” I bend my head in embarras-sment, knocking one egg against the bowl to crack it.
Wes ignores this remark, smiling at me brightly. He reminds me of Xavier in his puppy-like behavior, yet I have a feeling that Wes would treat anyone this way, while Xavier doesn’t care about other girls. Is this difference caused by the mating?
“I’m ma-king-” I start after guilty feelings enter at my cruelty, but he interrupts me eagerly.
“Don’t tell me! I love both surprises and homemade breakfast,” he smiles, his teeth glistening, “Xavier will especially love anything you make. By the way, when I pas-sed his room all the way here, he was laughing hysterically. So I was wondering…”
Yolk explodes onto the bowl, shell dribbling in sha-rd s down the side.
“Mona?” Wes stares at my clenched fist in confusion.
My hand trembles as I turn away to the sink to wash off the slime now adorning my palm. The water burns as it sli-ps down my f!ngers, some splashing upon my face. But no matter how ha-rd I try, I cannot wash away the blus-h from my cheeks.
I turn back to Wes, smiling awkwardly. “I’m okay. It was an accident,” I attempt to reas-sure him.
“Are you su-”
“Yes. I’m,” I take the beater and punch the glob in the bowl, “Perfectly. Fine.”
“No you aren’t.” His voice is firm and resolute.
Bitter words stay captive behind myl-ips, beating against its confinements. We both look at the crumbled shell mixed in with the yolk in silence, I desperately trying to hide the redness in my features.
“I’ll just… come back later then,” Wes bows slightly, and then exits the room, his footsteps pounding throu-gh the hallway.
I pick up the clear bowl, trumping over to the sink, and pour it down the drain, watching the egg disappear once and for all. Irritation grows within me, boiling inside my che-st. Calming is impossible. He tricked me.
Xavier…
What am I going to do with you?
***
“Oh, you’re back,” I smile as Wes leads the way into the kitchen, followed by a slew of werewolves. Yi has the be-d head, his ruffled black hair sticking straight up. His eyes are bloodsh0t, as if he just had a bad night’s sleep.
“Are you better now?” Wes asks concernedly.
“Yes.” I gesture to the dining room right next to the kitchen. “Just go sit in there and I will bring out the food soon.”
“You’re amazing, Mona,” Wes laughs, coming close and wra-pping an arm around my w@!st. I stiffen a little, amazed at the way it seems completely different when Xavier t©uçhes me. Xavier tends to s£nd sparks of flame throu-gh my b©dy, while Wes freezes me like an icicle. With another happy-go-lucky grin, he sneaks forward and k!sses my cheek.
I sma-ck him on the arm, slightly angered but still pla-yful. “What are you thinking, trying to steal a k!ssfrom me?” I ask in a teasing tone. But inwardly, I am wondering why, exactly, I feel nothing when Wes’s truly deliciousl-ips brush against my skin.
“It is like a greeting with Wes. He k!sses everyb©dy,” Jake shrugs, “all his girls. I suggest you get used to it.”
“And I suppose you do the same thing?” I raise one eyebrow.
“We all do,” Ray says, and then turns to Jake. “You haven’t told her about the club yet, have you?”
Jake shakes his head, “I thought we were going to have to quit because Xavier finally got mated. I was going to close it for this week.”
“What club?” I ask, even more curious because Ray is talking.
“Um, well…” Jake starts, and then trails off.
“We’ll tell you over breakfast,” Wes finishes for him, “don’t worry about it right now.”
Yi just stares at his shoes, not talking. What’s wrong with him? It is as if he is afraid to look at me.
Wes looks over his shoulder into the hallway, and his eyes wi-den. “Hurry guys, into the dining room,” he pushes them out of the kitchen with great f0rç£. As he exits, he shoots me a wi-nk.
I take the French toast I had prepared and la-id two on each plate. After scattering powdered sugar on it, as well as adding a tiny bowl of syrup and bu-tter, it soon looks professional. After a healthy dab of wh!pped cream and a small strawberry, they are meals fit for a king. My cooking skills really haven’t deteriorated.
“That looks really good,” a voice murmurs beside my ear. I smile slightly, not looking up, drun!kin my own plea-surable thoughts.
“Thanks.”
“Where did you learn to cook?”
“I used to help at the orphanage. The cook would always give me extra scra-ps if I washed the dishes, and eventually she let me cook most of the food for her while she was the one to get paid. But I didn’t mind, because the cook was nice to me… and it was better than pla-ying with the other kids.” I st©p in my tracks, staring at the granite sadly.
“What happened? Ms. Penn found out?”
“Of course,” I laugh shakily, “Ms. Penn knows everything. At first she wanted me to continue cooking so she wouldn’t have to pay the cook, but then, once she realized I was happy to do it, she fired the cook and hired another one. She banished me from the kitchen for just being happy.”
“I’m sorry,” the voice sparks electricity in my blood, arousing de-sire within me. Wait… it is as if I am waking from a dream, the fog lifted, and then I look up at his face.
“Xavier,” I back away from the devilishly handsome figure.
“You didn’t know it was me?” he asks innocently, “I made no attempt to disguise myself.”
“That’s not the point,” I say, anger boiling in my blood, “you were completely awake the whole time, even when you tried to k!ssme? You laughed at me?”
Xavier covers his mouth to stifle another chuckle. “Oh, I thought you were actually mad-”
“What do you mean, ‘actually mad’?!” I snap, feeling rather immature un-der Xavier’s laughing gaze.
“I thought you were mad about something important,” he clarifies laughingly. I punch him in the arm, and he staggers back a little. I start to see red, almost forgetting why I am mad at him.
“You’re so mean, Xavier! Why would you laugh about one little mistake…” I punch him again, fury emanating from me.
“I laughed because of how cute you were,” he smiles, st©pping me in my tracks, “I just had to try and k!ssyou.” My clenched fist hovers right beside his arm, all f0rç£ evaporated.
“You get so angry and embarras-sed over little things… I think it’s adorable,” Xavier wi-nks, whirling me towards him with his hand and plopping hisl-ips on my cheek. Immediately pas-sion and lvst arise, flowing between us both. I look to the ground, breaking away from his grasp. My breathing is heavy, face flu-shed. How can his k!sses affect me so much?
“Are you serious?” my voice is tiny, squeaky.
Xavier nods, reaching forward with one f!nger and tilting my face upwards. He laughs in amusement. “You’re blu-shing,” he observes, a sm-irk slowly creeping onto his features.
I yank his hand away, anger sparked once more. “I’m not!” I protest uselessly, picking up a few of the plates hurriedly.
“Whatever you say,” he says, voice dripping with amused sarcasm. I have never heard him use sarcasm before.
He follows me into the dining room, where everyone is seated and perfectly still. I narrow my eyes at the mischievous werewolves, knowing exactly why they are so quiet. “You heard it all, didn’t you?” I ask, expressionless.
All of them, excluding Ray and Yi, break out into a sly smile. “Having a lover’s spat?” Jake teases, elbowing Xavier who just sat down next to him.
“Just shut up,” I place one plate in front of Xavier, then hesitate before giving Jake his share, “or I won’t give you breakfast.”
“Okay, okay,” Jake concedes defeat, though still grinning. I place the other plates in front of Ray and Wes, then retreat to gr-ab Yi’s.
Shouts immediately erupt from the dining room. “This is fantastic!”
“I love French toast!”
“I love you Mona!”
“That’s my mate you’re talking about…”
I inwardly laugh, entering the room once more with my plate and Yi’s plate. Yi is staring at the table, almost completely lifeless. I put the plate in front of him, and then gently t©uçh his shoulder. “Yi?” I ask.
He tilts his head sharply to meet my gaze, anger in his features. “Don’t t©uçh me,” he snaps, jumping to his feet. Immediately he turns away from me, facing the others. “I’m going to eat in the courtyard today,” he states robotically, then picks up his plate and brushes past me.
“What’s with him?” I ask worriedly, sitting down in his old sp©t. They just shake their heads.
“He was staring at you as if he had seen a ghost yesterday…” Wes points out, “and has been sort of weird ever since.”
I take the first bite of my home-made breakfast, reveling at the sweetness I am finally able to indulge in. No matter how annoying Xavier may be, I still feel lucky that things have turned out this way.
“Let’s not talk about Yi,” Wes dismisses after a long, awkward silence, “tell her about the club, Jake.”
“Yeah,” I agree, “what club?”
“We own a nightclub in the city called Moonlight. It is one of the most exclusive clubs you will find anywhere in the state,” Jake says, “and it is also how we make our money.”
“It is also where we get our woman of the week,” Ray interrupts, smiling.
“Ray… just shut up,” Xavier cuts in. Ray lazily ambles from the table to the door, exiting to go who-knows-where.
“I’m done,” he throws over his shoulder, and I look at his perfectly clean plate. How can he eat so fast?
“Anyways,” Jake continues, “we only open on Saturday nights, and charge an astronomical entrance fee. All the rich and famous locals go there.”
“Woman of the week?” I probe, to Wes’s obvious dismay.
“Don’t think bad of me…” he stresses.
“We enter the nightclub every two weeks and… auction ourselves off, if that makes any s-en-se,” Jake tries to explain. My eyes wi-den.
“A bachelor auction!” I exclaim, “is it just you guys or do you auction off more men?”
“Nah, only werewolves will do,” Wes laughs, “we don’t nee-d any more bachelors than the five, no, four ones right here.”
“Women pay serious bucks for b©yfri£nds,” Jake says, “especially if they are wanted by their other rich friends.”
So that’s how they have so much money…
I stand up while I listen, taking their perfectly clean plates to the kitchen. “So the money’s not for charity or something?” I call from the sink.
“We say it is,” Xavier says.
“And, you know, we do give some of it away. Maybe half,” Jake grins. I laugh, although still a little bewildered. “We auction off b©yfri£ndfor the week, which includes three d@t£s, our phone number, three requests, and a bouquet of roses. We all sell for big cash, though Xavier is king,” Jake adds rather enviously.
“How much?” I ask curiously. I can un-derstand rich women paying a lot of money for these handsome flir-ts.
“Around ten thousand to twenty thousand,” Jake laughs, “although one time Xavier did sell for fifty thousand. Two women were feeling rather competitive.”
“Fifty thousand!” I couldn’t imagine that number in my wildest daydreams. I haven’t even seen a fifty dollar bill in years.
“You don’t un-derstand,” Wes starts in, “to get us for one week is the ultimate trophy. Our women get supreme br@gging rights for the entire time they have us. Our looks are above ordinary, especially Xavier’s crazy hair, and we are famous among the Moonlight attendance. We are like what you would call ‘trophy wives’, but are temporary and also men, of course.”
“The trophy men…” I snicker quietly.
“I don’t know what we are going to do without Xavier… it’ll be an outrage among the women,” Jake shakes his head regretfully, “let’s hope none of us get mated as well.”
I scan the area for any hint of Ray, and then I lean in slowly. “Why do women even bid on Ray? He’s practically a monster, and so rude too!” I whisper, my voice lingering on the wind before reaching their ears. Wes bur-sts out into laughter, Xavier soon joining in. Jake is the only one managing to stay calm, answering my question smoothly.
“You haven’t seen him around the ladies… and he is practically a mirror image of Xavier, minus the hair and a few other details. Many women think of him as Xavier’s slightly less desirable double.”
“So he sells for a lot…”
“Well, pretty much. It usually goes in this order, from least amount of money to most; Yi, Me, Ray, Wes, and Xavier. We all sell really close together though, except for that one fifty thousand.”
“Wow,” I say, “this is amazing. Do you guys ever get attached to your women?”
“Never,” Wes says darkly, serious for the first time ever, “it’s not allowed.”
“But I’m sure they get attached to you,” I grin, crossing my arms, “maybe a few stalkers?” I pointedly stare at the blu-shing Xavier.
“That’s the fun p@rt,” Wes smiles, “no one knows anything about us. They only know us by our first names. . In return for being their b©yfri£ndfor a week, we make them sign a contract of strict confidentiality. They are not allowed to ask us questions about our past, family, or even where we live. They are also required to only use our number during the week we are their b©yfri£nds. After that week, if they use our number they will be fined $500 or more. For many, it is like a dream with a rou-gh awakening at the end.”
“Harsh,” I shake slightly. They truly are the pack of pla-yers. Xavier looks at me, and I suddenly think of a question. “Are you going to still auction yourself off?” I ask him, trying to remain indifferent.
T B C