Prompt: 039 - Taste. (The Werewolf Chronicles)
Title: Confrontation
Author: luthienberen (Jadwiga)
Character: Alexander Finch
Warnings: Homosexual character, horror, werewolf.
Prompt: 039 - Taste.
Beta: rae_fa
Word count: 3,588
Rating: R (no under 17s) overall.
Notes: Grade 10 = 15-16 year olds.
This is part of a series of chapters, which can be can either be found via the community’s tag system or fictionpress.
Summary: Interesting revelations come to light
Chapter 23: Confrontation
- - - -
jealous, adj. 2. resentful of someone seen as a sexual rival. [Oxford English Mini Dictionary]
- - - -
I am not jealous.
I refute any such charge.
To say I was jealous would imply that Figaro’s actions annoyed, irritated and frustrated me. This is not true. How could Figaro possibly fluster me?
To postulate that I was jealous would indicate that I wished to hit that smug bastard who persistently tried to insinuate himself between Alexander and my good self.
And I don’t. That would silly and childish…and I’m not a five-year-old child who can’t share.
It isn’t even as if Figaro - the overly friendly, overly eager, overly handsome - that is helpful, Figaro is attempting to seduce Alexander. Furthermore, it isn’t as if I hold any prior claim to the beguiling redhead…I only kissed him…and he kissed back….at which point I withdrew.
Bloody, idiotic, noble fool!
And so now what? It’s open season on a lovely redheaded history teacher? What the hell? Under such circumstances what else could I do than say that Alexander and I already had plans? Alexander didn’t protest, in fact he looked relieved…? Hopeful? That’s all right then surely? After all, I couldn’t let anyone poach on my territory.
And the satisfaction that I am feeling is wholly unrelated with effectively stopping the interfering English teacher in his tracks.
….Shit. I am jealous.
Charming, that is all I need. I’m jealous and I can’t divulge these emotions to anyone, because if I inform Fey he’ll rightly say my judgement in the investigation is impaired, and probably threaten me with bodily harm if I should hurt Alexander.
So I’m reduced to scribbling my thoughts onto scrap paper.
Damn…I wish that Paul would return with the information I requested.
----------------
---------
Michael gazed in distress at his scribblings. How could he even pretend he had no bias in this whole affair? His suspicions tormented him to the point where he was desperate to prove Alexander’s innocence and it sickened him. How could he behave so…so…selfishly?
And yet…Alexander wasn’t the only suspect and at least he was checking both men’s backgrounds. Heck, the entire idea was fantastic: a werewolf the source of this summer’s evils.
But…he had never before in his life been so sure of his conclusions.
However, logic dictated that the evidence could neither incriminate nor exonerate either Alexander or Fenway. His dislike of one of them didn’t make a killer, nor did his … affection for the other clear him.
It was why Paul’s character digging was so vital. It would provide clues to the men’s characters and history beyond Michael’s own experiences. He wouldn’t know for certain if one was an accomplice or even - and now Michael dared whisper the thought that scared him more than anything he would have conceived possible - one of them was also a werewolf and not simply an accomplice.
Drained, Michael knew that he was in no shape to continue his research today, there was always tomorrow. Until then he could help Fey, and stare at the clock whose minutes and hours separated him from Alexander.
----------------
---------
Cougar School
Monday afternoon was monotonous. Not even the sights, scents and sounds of the classroom could capture Alexander as he tried to appear normal after the lunch he had shared with Michael and Figaro. His friend’s words taunted him, echoing in his ears as he guided Grade 10 through their double period.
Not even the bustle of excited students eagerly anticipating the end of the day could dismiss his preoccupation. Finally in a vain attempt to reassert some sense of reality, Alexander forced himself to insist that his class spend the first part of their lesson reading through their texts and taking notes, which they were in turn to transform into brief presentations. He split the class into groups of five and retreated to his desk.
Such a task would occupy his students for a good hour and more, permitting him to drift in his thoughts, occasionally checking on their progress. Hopefully, the presentations would also help them to make up for lost ground when the substitute was here, by forcing the students to stop and think and ask questions.
Discreetly rubbing his temples Alexander smiled reassuringly at Anna Carbuncle who had shot him a querying look. It was comforting to know his students cared for his well-being.
“He may not be in love with you yet, or may not even know it himself, but he is attracted to you and does care for you. I can assure you there is affection on his part.”
Figaro’s words rampaged into his mind seizing his attention away from Anna’s tender concern.
/Damn Figaro, if only I could be certain. So much rests on this. If Michael …cares for me…perhaps, maybe, even loves me, or there is the possibility of him loving me, then I may have a chance of persuading Michael that I’m innocent. He might be able to see past the ‘monster’./
Alexander internally sighed. Anguish wrung his heart for he very much wanted Michael to love him - unrequited love after all wasn’t very pleasant. He had already decided to stay no matter the consequences, however if Figaro - and if Alexander was honest, his own senses - could be relied on then the danger to his own person might not be so acute.
Acting normally, Alexander rose and on the pretext of checking his students’ progress circled the classroom so at the end of his circuit he finished by the window. Opening it a crack, Alexander breathed deep of the icy air, feeling the cold prickle his throat and lungs. Inhaling through his nose the werewolf relished the clarity of the tangy taste the snowy day brought.
For a moment his wild thoughts stilled, granting Alexander peace. In the quiet of his mind, Alexander considered his options and smiled. All he could do was wait until this evening and monitor Michael’s behaviour. /Looks like my werewolf skills will get quite an exercise tonight!/
Good humour slightly restored by submitting to the circumstances and fate, Alexander returned to his desk, deciding to do some extracurricular reading tucked amidst another book - the journals to be precise. Hope maintained its fierce grip on his heart but it didn’t pain him as much as before.
----------------
---------
By the time Grade 10’s lesson ended, black-grey clouds had gathered, transforming the greyish light of the day into a world filled with shadows. For Alexander the werewolf it didn’t offer too many setbacks, but for ordinary humans? Alexander would be surprised if many of them would be able to see far without strong lighting.
The individual presentations had gone so well that Alexander decided to have some sympathy for his excited students.
“Our after school study group is cancelled,” Alexander raised an eyebrow at the yells of joy his announcement received, “as I know you’ll simply be thinking of Halloween costumes and tricks. However, I expect you to be especially bright and alert in tomorrow’s lesson, and we’ll reschedule the study group for another time. Unfortunately, it might occur on the weekend.”
Amazingly, such a threat didn’t dampen the spirits of his class and Alexander watched, amused, as they stuffed textbooks, papers, pens and so on into their bags, eager to dash off to whatever entertainment they had planned.
“Hey Sir!” Kay came running up to him grinning.
“Yes?” /You can never do anything sedately can you Kay?/ mused Alexander affectionately.
“My friends don’t appreciate my Halloween mask, but what do they know?”
Alexander laughed, this was new. “Then why ask me, Mr Acton? I am an ‘adult’ after all.”
“Yeah, but a cool one. You know history stuff and well, er…”
/I do believe you are about to utter the words ‘and I respect/admire you’. How wonderful./ Alexander determined to spare the boy from embarrassing himself further. Occasionally what was unsaid was better than the things that were said.
“Indeed, thank you Mr Acton. Where is the mask?”
The boy brought forward his right arm from behind his back, to reveal the mask clutched in his right hand. Alexander suffered a second of shock and horror before regaining his equilibrium. He knew that Kay hadn’t noticed his slip.
Brown eyebrows slanted down over diagonal eyeholes, and a long dark brown muzzle protruded from the mask. Ferocious fangs descended from the snarling mouth promising pain. The entire mask was covered in a sparse coating of ‘fur’ and from the forehead poked two pointed ears that ended in impressive tuffs. The whole device could fit over the face and part of the head to disguise the wearer as a savage monster.
As a werewolf.
“Very…impressive. Quite terrifying.” Alexander breathed as calmly as possible, holding on to the control that the wolf cub had been teaching him. “Conjures images of classic werewolf films and even some old drawings of werewolves. Excellent taste.”
Kay beamed. “Ha! Knew you would recognise a brilliant costume when you saw one Sir. Thanks!
“Glad to be of assistance. Have a fun night.”
“You too Sir. See you tomorrow!”
“Goodbye.”
Grateful that Kay swiftly left with his disgruntled friends, Alexander sank down on his chair in a daze. He was thankful he hadn’t permitted his control to snap but the expression on that mask! So similar to Charlotte’s even though the skin and fur were a different colour. Shivering, Alexander congratulated himself on not snapping, and locking the door did a quick meditation to further settle his nerves.
He was ready to leave with his old sense of decorum within fifteen minutes. Sweeping his desk clean, he clutched his briefcase in a tight grip and exited his classroom, intent on reaching his car as quickly as he was able. Walking briskly down the bustling corridor he heard Figaro’s approach before his friend’s voice called out his name: “Alexander!”
Stopping, Alexander turned, “Yes Figaro?”
His friend possessed a smug gleam in his blue eyes. “Have a fun evening doing D.I.Y.”
/Two can play that game Figaro./ “Oh I shall, I’m sure Michael is a fantastic teacher. I’m in safe hands.”
Laughing at Figaro’s expression, Alexander made his escape and darted into the depressing conditions outside. Frigid air engulfed him, stinging his exposed cheeks and eyes. Blinking away tears, Alexander breathed in the icy breeze that blew steadily across the school courtyard.
The taste of snow was sharper than before, it would snow again soon. Perhaps not this afternoon but within the next day or two. Undisturbed by this threat, Alexander savoured the tangy flavour for another second then switched his engine on to allow the car to warm while he cleaned his windscreen and rear window.
Within minutes he was ready to set off through the winter clad countryside. Indeed, driving through the greyish world consisting of hard packed snow and ice was an almost surreal experience. His senses were so heightened by his emotional state - excitement warring with nervousness and teasing anticipation - that the werewolf was meshed in sensation.
Alexander was genuinely amazed he could concentrate on the treacherous road ahead while the heat from the car’s fans circled around him, and the headlights caused glittering sparkles to dance when they hit shiny ice.
Furthermore, a part of him wondered whether Michael was in an equally distressed situation and would therefore be home already eager to continue this charade - charade for what precisely needled Alexander - or if Alexander would return first.
Yet, whoever arrived first, Alexander was determined that something would happen tonight, some sort of explanation for why Michael and he had lied to Figaro. His heart was thumping so loudly that Alexander mused on being able to hear the car tyres grating over gravel as he approached his home.
Somehow he managed to focus so as to turn safely into his driveway… and then he caught sight of Michael’s car. Alexander could barely fathom his emotions at that moment: the wolf wished to leap out of the car and race inside to start nuzzling the handsome Mountie he loved. The human part wanted…wanted…heck the human part was confused: the burning desire to fidget conflicted with the consuming passion to fling his arms around Michael, to kiss him and demand why Michael had fabricated the story he had told Figaro.
Restraining his bubbling emotions with tremendous difficulty, Alexander settled for gracefully exiting his car then proceeding to cross the distance to his front door in three easy bounds trusting to his improved ear, eye and leg coordination to maintain his grip on the perilously slippery surface.
/Breathe,/ Alexander scolded himself, /breathe and act human./
Swallowing, Alexander rubbed a gloved hand over his face then unlocked his front door, stepping inside as casually as possible.
“Alexander?”
Michael’s voice shattered some of his resolve and his right hand shook as he closed the door. “Yes! No one else has the keys to my house. Were you expecting someone else?”
Michael entered the hallway, dark hair ruffled as if he had spent some time running restless hands through the black locks. An aura of nervousness enclosed him and Alexander caught the whiff of relief that emanated from his frame.
/Relief? Intriguing./
“No…no..just…ah…Do you want a cup of tea?” Michael trailed off, eyes very intense.
“Sure, a mug actually. Thank you.”
“Er, no problem.”
“I’ll be down in few minutes for my tea and then you can explain this D.I.Y. we have to do.”
Alexander almost laughed when he saw surprise tighten the corners of Michael’s mouth. “D.I.Y….yeah.”
Smiling at Michael while he pulled off his heavy winter coat and yanked off toasty warm gloves and hat, Alexander tried to radiate complete ease. Michael’s tense frame as his eyes raked over his body as he shed his outer garments did not help, but the moment the man realised he was staring he abruptly muttered “kitchen” and hurried away.
Thoroughly amused Alexander jogged upstairs. It seemed that the best way to get the truth out of Michael was to keep him unbalanced; he only hoped that his experience of prying information and conclusions from ancient texts and sites would aid him in this endeavour.
Slipping into his bedroom, bright green and yellow eyes stared disapprovingly at him from the bed where his cats were majestically stretched. They were obviously not impressed by the disturbance or by his hasty hello and distracted petting.
The werewolf felt the grumpy green eyes of Hephaistion on him as he darted around his bedroom, carefully putting away sensitive documents - the journals - in their hiding place, and watching his back as he briefly vanished into the study next door to deposit his briefcase.
Attempting to calm his feverish mind Alexander breathed deeply and steadily until he was reasonably calm and collected. Then stretching his lithe body out, Alexander decided to splash cold water on his face to freshen himself up for whatever would happen downstairs with Michael.
----------------
---------
Exiting the bathroom the werewolf stilled himself, listening….
Distantly, yet for Alexander as close as if the sound was outside his bedroom door, was the rolling boil of the kettle, the rush of heated water and the clink of china as a spoon was used to swirl the teabag to help it soak.
A heartbeat…no…three heartbeats, the smaller thumps of his felines and the large rhythm of Michael’s human heart. Michael’s was slightly faster than normal, his emotions were not composed, but the reason or reasons for his agitation remained to be discovered.
Awakening from the tide of sensation Alexander felt it ebb away until his senses were still keen but not as much as in the previous moment. It was time to go downstairs and truly stir the tea or…and Alexander grinned…put a wolf among the sheep.
----------------
---------
In the darkened living room the only illumination came from a single lamp and the steadily burning fire. Alexander and Michael sat opposite each other in two armchairs, Alexander drinking his tea in the quietest fashion possible under the blazing scrutiny of Michael.
Supper was forgotten while they sat frozen, the strain between them thickening the atmosphere in the room. The crackling flames sounded unusually loud as the silence depended between the two men.
Eventually Alexander broke the tension, setting aside his mug. “So, where is this D.I.Y we are supposed to be doing Michael?”
Michael simply stared at him, a startled expression blossoming over his features. “D.I.Y?”
“Yes, D.I.Y Michael. Remember your….excuse to Figaro? About us being engaged tonight?” Alexander smiled inwardly; he could scent Michael’s confusion and sudden, sharp irritation.
“You know there isn’t any!” /Yes, I know Michael. I’m not stupid nor do I think you believe I am, but you are ruffled that I mentioned the matter so openly hmmm?/
“Then why did you tell Figaro otherwise?”
Michael ignored his question instead focusing his passion on something else entirely. “That’s not the point.”
“Really? Pray, what is?”
The man he loved was unsettled, shifting on his seat like sand in the breeze, emotions crowded close to his handsome face. Traces of anger made for a bitter taste on his tongue and the back of his throat, entertaining Alexander more than it should.
“The point?” Michael’s voice was tantalisingly harsh, promising good content. “The point was that you knew I was lying and you agreed. If you knew I was lying why did you play along?”
/Good question./ Cocking his head so the firelight caught his redhair, Alexander said as innocently as possible: “Isn’t it simple courtesy for the person who instigated the untruth to explain his reason first? Especially when he was so kindly repaid by compliance from the one person who was necessary to his plan?”
Alexander swallowed in a dry mouth, nervous to hear Michael’s answer.
The Mountie abruptly stood, and turned his back, hands on his head, fingers clenched in ebony strands, his demeanour and the cascade of fear, anger and desperation almost knocking Alexander from the edge of his armchair.
Michael’s face when he swivelled to meet Alexander’s gaze was worse, self recrimination lurked in dark brown eyes and the rigid set of his broad jaw suggested self-control on the verge of snapping.
And when the man he loved spoke, each word was low, but rang louder than a bell, “Because I didn’t want to share you with him. Because he was too close…I mean I didn’t know whether he was a threa---That is, damnit!”
Inhaling as if breathing was painful. “Figaro was very…friendly…more than friendly and always flitting close by when I wished to spend time with you. I fought back the only way I could think of at the time…surely a man needs every chance he can get!”
/Jealous?/ thought Alexander awed. No one had ever been jealous over him before, quite a shocking realisation. And by Michael’s sudden biting of his lover lip Alexander knew he had uttered that word out loud. /Oh dear…/
“Yes,” defeated Michael’s hands fell clenching at his side; shoulders slumped, even though his legs remained tense. “Jealous and I don’t know how to approach this investigation anymore.”
Alexander felt sympathy but washing over that: delight. How couldn’t he be excited? Michael held strong, powerful feelings for him and his sensitive nose could now smell desire underneath the other mixed emotions. Desire he had guessed at anyway considering Michael had passionately kissed him on his bedroom floor.
“I can’t help you there Michael. But surely you’ve experienced temptation before?”
The last Alexander uttered softly, quietly, heart dreading the reply. A barking laugh pounded his eardrums and Alexander winced. “Can’t you see?” Obviously seeing his bewilderment Michael smiled sadly, bitterly. “No, perhaps you really don’t. If it were merely temptation then I could - and have done - deal with it, but simple easy temptation this is not.”
Alexander licked his lips, fingers sweaty where he gripped his knees. /I’ll have bruises later,/ he mused dazedly.
“A..a..affection is involved.” The awkwardness dripped off Michael and the Mountie sat staring into his grey-green eyes with exhaustion, but with a smidgeon of relief. “And that may compromise my mission, who the heck knows.”
Love coursed through Alexander’s veins, his soul singing with joy at the announcement that Michael at the very least cared for him, and his interest wasn’t solely physically based. Whether it was love Alexander could not say, Michael was too distraught to confess to any more, and perhaps even feel any more at present.
His soul also cried to comfort Michael but Alexander wisely sensed that now was not the hour to push their boundaries. Too much had passed in these few minutes for any successful approach to be accepted. Careful, for the atmosphere in the room was as fragile as crystal, Alexander slid off his armchair and knelt on the carpet, inches away from Michael.
With a tone full tenderness yet concealing the vast swell of love he bore for this man, the werewolf tentatively touched Michael’s knee, all sense afire with tracking Michael’s reaction. “Michael, please do not distress yourself. I shan’t say more tonight than: let it rest for a night or two, and then we shall see what happens. I think it best if you go to your room now and lie down, you’re spent.”
Rising gracefully Alexander waved a hand. “I’ll clean up. Go and when you sleep: sweet dreams.”
Nodding wearily Michael rose to his feet and brushed past. It was evident he dared not speak for fear of what would occur.
Gazing into the orange-red heart of the fire, Alexander once more had the urge to change and run through the snowy wild, howling his emotions to the veiled stars.
Love wasn’t easy.
----------------
---------
Author: luthienberen (Jadwiga)
Character: Alexander Finch
Warnings: Homosexual character, horror, werewolf.
Prompt: 039 - Taste.
Beta: rae_fa
Word count: 3,588
Rating: R (no under 17s) overall.
Notes: Grade 10 = 15-16 year olds.
This is part of a series of chapters, which can be can either be found via the community’s tag system or fictionpress.
Summary: Interesting revelations come to light
Chapter 23: Confrontation
- - - -
jealous, adj. 2. resentful of someone seen as a sexual rival. [Oxford English Mini Dictionary]
- - - -
I am not jealous.
I refute any such charge.
To say I was jealous would imply that Figaro’s actions annoyed, irritated and frustrated me. This is not true. How could Figaro possibly fluster me?
To postulate that I was jealous would indicate that I wished to hit that smug bastard who persistently tried to insinuate himself between Alexander and my good self.
And I don’t. That would silly and childish…and I’m not a five-year-old child who can’t share.
It isn’t even as if Figaro - the overly friendly, overly eager, overly handsome - that is helpful, Figaro is attempting to seduce Alexander. Furthermore, it isn’t as if I hold any prior claim to the beguiling redhead…I only kissed him…and he kissed back….at which point I withdrew.
Bloody, idiotic, noble fool!
And so now what? It’s open season on a lovely redheaded history teacher? What the hell? Under such circumstances what else could I do than say that Alexander and I already had plans? Alexander didn’t protest, in fact he looked relieved…? Hopeful? That’s all right then surely? After all, I couldn’t let anyone poach on my territory.
And the satisfaction that I am feeling is wholly unrelated with effectively stopping the interfering English teacher in his tracks.
….Shit. I am jealous.
Charming, that is all I need. I’m jealous and I can’t divulge these emotions to anyone, because if I inform Fey he’ll rightly say my judgement in the investigation is impaired, and probably threaten me with bodily harm if I should hurt Alexander.
So I’m reduced to scribbling my thoughts onto scrap paper.
Damn…I wish that Paul would return with the information I requested.
----------------
---------
Michael gazed in distress at his scribblings. How could he even pretend he had no bias in this whole affair? His suspicions tormented him to the point where he was desperate to prove Alexander’s innocence and it sickened him. How could he behave so…so…selfishly?
And yet…Alexander wasn’t the only suspect and at least he was checking both men’s backgrounds. Heck, the entire idea was fantastic: a werewolf the source of this summer’s evils.
But…he had never before in his life been so sure of his conclusions.
However, logic dictated that the evidence could neither incriminate nor exonerate either Alexander or Fenway. His dislike of one of them didn’t make a killer, nor did his … affection for the other clear him.
It was why Paul’s character digging was so vital. It would provide clues to the men’s characters and history beyond Michael’s own experiences. He wouldn’t know for certain if one was an accomplice or even - and now Michael dared whisper the thought that scared him more than anything he would have conceived possible - one of them was also a werewolf and not simply an accomplice.
Drained, Michael knew that he was in no shape to continue his research today, there was always tomorrow. Until then he could help Fey, and stare at the clock whose minutes and hours separated him from Alexander.
----------------
---------
Cougar School
Monday afternoon was monotonous. Not even the sights, scents and sounds of the classroom could capture Alexander as he tried to appear normal after the lunch he had shared with Michael and Figaro. His friend’s words taunted him, echoing in his ears as he guided Grade 10 through their double period.
Not even the bustle of excited students eagerly anticipating the end of the day could dismiss his preoccupation. Finally in a vain attempt to reassert some sense of reality, Alexander forced himself to insist that his class spend the first part of their lesson reading through their texts and taking notes, which they were in turn to transform into brief presentations. He split the class into groups of five and retreated to his desk.
Such a task would occupy his students for a good hour and more, permitting him to drift in his thoughts, occasionally checking on their progress. Hopefully, the presentations would also help them to make up for lost ground when the substitute was here, by forcing the students to stop and think and ask questions.
Discreetly rubbing his temples Alexander smiled reassuringly at Anna Carbuncle who had shot him a querying look. It was comforting to know his students cared for his well-being.
“He may not be in love with you yet, or may not even know it himself, but he is attracted to you and does care for you. I can assure you there is affection on his part.”
Figaro’s words rampaged into his mind seizing his attention away from Anna’s tender concern.
/Damn Figaro, if only I could be certain. So much rests on this. If Michael …cares for me…perhaps, maybe, even loves me, or there is the possibility of him loving me, then I may have a chance of persuading Michael that I’m innocent. He might be able to see past the ‘monster’./
Alexander internally sighed. Anguish wrung his heart for he very much wanted Michael to love him - unrequited love after all wasn’t very pleasant. He had already decided to stay no matter the consequences, however if Figaro - and if Alexander was honest, his own senses - could be relied on then the danger to his own person might not be so acute.
Acting normally, Alexander rose and on the pretext of checking his students’ progress circled the classroom so at the end of his circuit he finished by the window. Opening it a crack, Alexander breathed deep of the icy air, feeling the cold prickle his throat and lungs. Inhaling through his nose the werewolf relished the clarity of the tangy taste the snowy day brought.
For a moment his wild thoughts stilled, granting Alexander peace. In the quiet of his mind, Alexander considered his options and smiled. All he could do was wait until this evening and monitor Michael’s behaviour. /Looks like my werewolf skills will get quite an exercise tonight!/
Good humour slightly restored by submitting to the circumstances and fate, Alexander returned to his desk, deciding to do some extracurricular reading tucked amidst another book - the journals to be precise. Hope maintained its fierce grip on his heart but it didn’t pain him as much as before.
----------------
---------
By the time Grade 10’s lesson ended, black-grey clouds had gathered, transforming the greyish light of the day into a world filled with shadows. For Alexander the werewolf it didn’t offer too many setbacks, but for ordinary humans? Alexander would be surprised if many of them would be able to see far without strong lighting.
The individual presentations had gone so well that Alexander decided to have some sympathy for his excited students.
“Our after school study group is cancelled,” Alexander raised an eyebrow at the yells of joy his announcement received, “as I know you’ll simply be thinking of Halloween costumes and tricks. However, I expect you to be especially bright and alert in tomorrow’s lesson, and we’ll reschedule the study group for another time. Unfortunately, it might occur on the weekend.”
Amazingly, such a threat didn’t dampen the spirits of his class and Alexander watched, amused, as they stuffed textbooks, papers, pens and so on into their bags, eager to dash off to whatever entertainment they had planned.
“Hey Sir!” Kay came running up to him grinning.
“Yes?” /You can never do anything sedately can you Kay?/ mused Alexander affectionately.
“My friends don’t appreciate my Halloween mask, but what do they know?”
Alexander laughed, this was new. “Then why ask me, Mr Acton? I am an ‘adult’ after all.”
“Yeah, but a cool one. You know history stuff and well, er…”
/I do believe you are about to utter the words ‘and I respect/admire you’. How wonderful./ Alexander determined to spare the boy from embarrassing himself further. Occasionally what was unsaid was better than the things that were said.
“Indeed, thank you Mr Acton. Where is the mask?”
The boy brought forward his right arm from behind his back, to reveal the mask clutched in his right hand. Alexander suffered a second of shock and horror before regaining his equilibrium. He knew that Kay hadn’t noticed his slip.
Brown eyebrows slanted down over diagonal eyeholes, and a long dark brown muzzle protruded from the mask. Ferocious fangs descended from the snarling mouth promising pain. The entire mask was covered in a sparse coating of ‘fur’ and from the forehead poked two pointed ears that ended in impressive tuffs. The whole device could fit over the face and part of the head to disguise the wearer as a savage monster.
As a werewolf.
“Very…impressive. Quite terrifying.” Alexander breathed as calmly as possible, holding on to the control that the wolf cub had been teaching him. “Conjures images of classic werewolf films and even some old drawings of werewolves. Excellent taste.”
Kay beamed. “Ha! Knew you would recognise a brilliant costume when you saw one Sir. Thanks!
“Glad to be of assistance. Have a fun night.”
“You too Sir. See you tomorrow!”
“Goodbye.”
Grateful that Kay swiftly left with his disgruntled friends, Alexander sank down on his chair in a daze. He was thankful he hadn’t permitted his control to snap but the expression on that mask! So similar to Charlotte’s even though the skin and fur were a different colour. Shivering, Alexander congratulated himself on not snapping, and locking the door did a quick meditation to further settle his nerves.
He was ready to leave with his old sense of decorum within fifteen minutes. Sweeping his desk clean, he clutched his briefcase in a tight grip and exited his classroom, intent on reaching his car as quickly as he was able. Walking briskly down the bustling corridor he heard Figaro’s approach before his friend’s voice called out his name: “Alexander!”
Stopping, Alexander turned, “Yes Figaro?”
His friend possessed a smug gleam in his blue eyes. “Have a fun evening doing D.I.Y.”
/Two can play that game Figaro./ “Oh I shall, I’m sure Michael is a fantastic teacher. I’m in safe hands.”
Laughing at Figaro’s expression, Alexander made his escape and darted into the depressing conditions outside. Frigid air engulfed him, stinging his exposed cheeks and eyes. Blinking away tears, Alexander breathed in the icy breeze that blew steadily across the school courtyard.
The taste of snow was sharper than before, it would snow again soon. Perhaps not this afternoon but within the next day or two. Undisturbed by this threat, Alexander savoured the tangy flavour for another second then switched his engine on to allow the car to warm while he cleaned his windscreen and rear window.
Within minutes he was ready to set off through the winter clad countryside. Indeed, driving through the greyish world consisting of hard packed snow and ice was an almost surreal experience. His senses were so heightened by his emotional state - excitement warring with nervousness and teasing anticipation - that the werewolf was meshed in sensation.
Alexander was genuinely amazed he could concentrate on the treacherous road ahead while the heat from the car’s fans circled around him, and the headlights caused glittering sparkles to dance when they hit shiny ice.
Furthermore, a part of him wondered whether Michael was in an equally distressed situation and would therefore be home already eager to continue this charade - charade for what precisely needled Alexander - or if Alexander would return first.
Yet, whoever arrived first, Alexander was determined that something would happen tonight, some sort of explanation for why Michael and he had lied to Figaro. His heart was thumping so loudly that Alexander mused on being able to hear the car tyres grating over gravel as he approached his home.
Somehow he managed to focus so as to turn safely into his driveway… and then he caught sight of Michael’s car. Alexander could barely fathom his emotions at that moment: the wolf wished to leap out of the car and race inside to start nuzzling the handsome Mountie he loved. The human part wanted…wanted…heck the human part was confused: the burning desire to fidget conflicted with the consuming passion to fling his arms around Michael, to kiss him and demand why Michael had fabricated the story he had told Figaro.
Restraining his bubbling emotions with tremendous difficulty, Alexander settled for gracefully exiting his car then proceeding to cross the distance to his front door in three easy bounds trusting to his improved ear, eye and leg coordination to maintain his grip on the perilously slippery surface.
/Breathe,/ Alexander scolded himself, /breathe and act human./
Swallowing, Alexander rubbed a gloved hand over his face then unlocked his front door, stepping inside as casually as possible.
“Alexander?”
Michael’s voice shattered some of his resolve and his right hand shook as he closed the door. “Yes! No one else has the keys to my house. Were you expecting someone else?”
Michael entered the hallway, dark hair ruffled as if he had spent some time running restless hands through the black locks. An aura of nervousness enclosed him and Alexander caught the whiff of relief that emanated from his frame.
/Relief? Intriguing./
“No…no..just…ah…Do you want a cup of tea?” Michael trailed off, eyes very intense.
“Sure, a mug actually. Thank you.”
“Er, no problem.”
“I’ll be down in few minutes for my tea and then you can explain this D.I.Y. we have to do.”
Alexander almost laughed when he saw surprise tighten the corners of Michael’s mouth. “D.I.Y….yeah.”
Smiling at Michael while he pulled off his heavy winter coat and yanked off toasty warm gloves and hat, Alexander tried to radiate complete ease. Michael’s tense frame as his eyes raked over his body as he shed his outer garments did not help, but the moment the man realised he was staring he abruptly muttered “kitchen” and hurried away.
Thoroughly amused Alexander jogged upstairs. It seemed that the best way to get the truth out of Michael was to keep him unbalanced; he only hoped that his experience of prying information and conclusions from ancient texts and sites would aid him in this endeavour.
Slipping into his bedroom, bright green and yellow eyes stared disapprovingly at him from the bed where his cats were majestically stretched. They were obviously not impressed by the disturbance or by his hasty hello and distracted petting.
The werewolf felt the grumpy green eyes of Hephaistion on him as he darted around his bedroom, carefully putting away sensitive documents - the journals - in their hiding place, and watching his back as he briefly vanished into the study next door to deposit his briefcase.
Attempting to calm his feverish mind Alexander breathed deeply and steadily until he was reasonably calm and collected. Then stretching his lithe body out, Alexander decided to splash cold water on his face to freshen himself up for whatever would happen downstairs with Michael.
----------------
---------
Exiting the bathroom the werewolf stilled himself, listening….
Distantly, yet for Alexander as close as if the sound was outside his bedroom door, was the rolling boil of the kettle, the rush of heated water and the clink of china as a spoon was used to swirl the teabag to help it soak.
A heartbeat…no…three heartbeats, the smaller thumps of his felines and the large rhythm of Michael’s human heart. Michael’s was slightly faster than normal, his emotions were not composed, but the reason or reasons for his agitation remained to be discovered.
Awakening from the tide of sensation Alexander felt it ebb away until his senses were still keen but not as much as in the previous moment. It was time to go downstairs and truly stir the tea or…and Alexander grinned…put a wolf among the sheep.
----------------
---------
In the darkened living room the only illumination came from a single lamp and the steadily burning fire. Alexander and Michael sat opposite each other in two armchairs, Alexander drinking his tea in the quietest fashion possible under the blazing scrutiny of Michael.
Supper was forgotten while they sat frozen, the strain between them thickening the atmosphere in the room. The crackling flames sounded unusually loud as the silence depended between the two men.
Eventually Alexander broke the tension, setting aside his mug. “So, where is this D.I.Y we are supposed to be doing Michael?”
Michael simply stared at him, a startled expression blossoming over his features. “D.I.Y?”
“Yes, D.I.Y Michael. Remember your….excuse to Figaro? About us being engaged tonight?” Alexander smiled inwardly; he could scent Michael’s confusion and sudden, sharp irritation.
“You know there isn’t any!” /Yes, I know Michael. I’m not stupid nor do I think you believe I am, but you are ruffled that I mentioned the matter so openly hmmm?/
“Then why did you tell Figaro otherwise?”
Michael ignored his question instead focusing his passion on something else entirely. “That’s not the point.”
“Really? Pray, what is?”
The man he loved was unsettled, shifting on his seat like sand in the breeze, emotions crowded close to his handsome face. Traces of anger made for a bitter taste on his tongue and the back of his throat, entertaining Alexander more than it should.
“The point?” Michael’s voice was tantalisingly harsh, promising good content. “The point was that you knew I was lying and you agreed. If you knew I was lying why did you play along?”
/Good question./ Cocking his head so the firelight caught his redhair, Alexander said as innocently as possible: “Isn’t it simple courtesy for the person who instigated the untruth to explain his reason first? Especially when he was so kindly repaid by compliance from the one person who was necessary to his plan?”
Alexander swallowed in a dry mouth, nervous to hear Michael’s answer.
The Mountie abruptly stood, and turned his back, hands on his head, fingers clenched in ebony strands, his demeanour and the cascade of fear, anger and desperation almost knocking Alexander from the edge of his armchair.
Michael’s face when he swivelled to meet Alexander’s gaze was worse, self recrimination lurked in dark brown eyes and the rigid set of his broad jaw suggested self-control on the verge of snapping.
And when the man he loved spoke, each word was low, but rang louder than a bell, “Because I didn’t want to share you with him. Because he was too close…I mean I didn’t know whether he was a threa---That is, damnit!”
Inhaling as if breathing was painful. “Figaro was very…friendly…more than friendly and always flitting close by when I wished to spend time with you. I fought back the only way I could think of at the time…surely a man needs every chance he can get!”
/Jealous?/ thought Alexander awed. No one had ever been jealous over him before, quite a shocking realisation. And by Michael’s sudden biting of his lover lip Alexander knew he had uttered that word out loud. /Oh dear…/
“Yes,” defeated Michael’s hands fell clenching at his side; shoulders slumped, even though his legs remained tense. “Jealous and I don’t know how to approach this investigation anymore.”
Alexander felt sympathy but washing over that: delight. How couldn’t he be excited? Michael held strong, powerful feelings for him and his sensitive nose could now smell desire underneath the other mixed emotions. Desire he had guessed at anyway considering Michael had passionately kissed him on his bedroom floor.
“I can’t help you there Michael. But surely you’ve experienced temptation before?”
The last Alexander uttered softly, quietly, heart dreading the reply. A barking laugh pounded his eardrums and Alexander winced. “Can’t you see?” Obviously seeing his bewilderment Michael smiled sadly, bitterly. “No, perhaps you really don’t. If it were merely temptation then I could - and have done - deal with it, but simple easy temptation this is not.”
Alexander licked his lips, fingers sweaty where he gripped his knees. /I’ll have bruises later,/ he mused dazedly.
“A..a..affection is involved.” The awkwardness dripped off Michael and the Mountie sat staring into his grey-green eyes with exhaustion, but with a smidgeon of relief. “And that may compromise my mission, who the heck knows.”
Love coursed through Alexander’s veins, his soul singing with joy at the announcement that Michael at the very least cared for him, and his interest wasn’t solely physically based. Whether it was love Alexander could not say, Michael was too distraught to confess to any more, and perhaps even feel any more at present.
His soul also cried to comfort Michael but Alexander wisely sensed that now was not the hour to push their boundaries. Too much had passed in these few minutes for any successful approach to be accepted. Careful, for the atmosphere in the room was as fragile as crystal, Alexander slid off his armchair and knelt on the carpet, inches away from Michael.
With a tone full tenderness yet concealing the vast swell of love he bore for this man, the werewolf tentatively touched Michael’s knee, all sense afire with tracking Michael’s reaction. “Michael, please do not distress yourself. I shan’t say more tonight than: let it rest for a night or two, and then we shall see what happens. I think it best if you go to your room now and lie down, you’re spent.”
Rising gracefully Alexander waved a hand. “I’ll clean up. Go and when you sleep: sweet dreams.”
Nodding wearily Michael rose to his feet and brushed past. It was evident he dared not speak for fear of what would occur.
Gazing into the orange-red heart of the fire, Alexander once more had the urge to change and run through the snowy wild, howling his emotions to the veiled stars.
Love wasn’t easy.
----------------
---------