CHAPTER 11: The Nylon Curtain
"Right," I giggled at his serious face. "A shape shifting wolf. You don't need to make things up. I told you that you didn't need to tell me."
He was biting his lip, looking a little lost at how to explain whatever was wrong with him. It was kind of funny to start this kind of conversation with such an absurd statement but now I felt more relaxed. It couldn't be so bad if Jared was making jokes, right?
"No really, Kim," he apparently decided to continue, "that's why I grew so fast and all that other stuff. It's a normally dormant gene unless something triggers it," he sneered the last part.
"Like vampires?" I joked.
"Exactly," and he actually let out what sounded like a growl.
My smile began to lessen as Jared persisted in this story.
He told me about Sam Uley, who I had met only once or twice at tribal festivals, being the Alpha and about how more guys were showing signs of changing and more nonsensical crap that was taking this whole thing too far. Was this the punch line of Jared befriending me? Get me to believe this load of absolute bullshit?
"Hold on a minute," I murmured, saying it so softly I was sure I'd have to repeat myself. But Jared somehow heard me and stopped talking instantly.
I took his face between my hands, studying it intently. I really didn't think Jared was screwing around and what I saw disturbed me more than anything: he was sincere in this belief, this fantasy of his.
I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. Jared was sick—delusional.
Close to tears, I took his hand in mine. "I understand."
The look of relief on Jared's face hurt, and he gave me the most dazzling smile I had ever witnessed on another's face. It took only the barest of seconds before I was encased in strong arms. I briefly imagined them covered in hair and the picture had me swallowing my breath.
"I knew you would! You are amazing, the most wonderful person I've ever met and I told Sam this would work out well—he told me to tell you in parts, but I don't think I can keep this for you now."
What else could there be?
What other revelation could showcase that my friend was having some sort of psychotic episode?
I gingerly patted him on the back, calculating a plan of what I was going to do. Talk to his parents? Or Sam Uley, maybe, who was obviously aware of this problem. I should probably start there.
"Kim," he started again, breathing deeply and smiling at me like I was the sun after a decade of rain. "I don't know how to explain this from the beginning. So I think I will just say it and explain it backwards. You see, I imprinted on you."
Imprinted?
Like he drew something on me? No, that wasn't what that meant. I tried to remember where I'd heard that word before. Like ducklings on their mother?
"Uh, what?" I asked, bemused. Maybe he made the word up—it sounds like a ridiculous verb anyway. Maybe it's part of whatever delusions he is having. So, I should tread carefully and be supportive. Ugh, what the hell is going on?
"According to Quileute legend, the spirit warriors were the first to shift from humans into wolves. Quileute population was always small, but they never disappeared since it was believed they had magic in their bloodlines."
I nodded here, because I'd heard these legends spoken. My mother was from the Makah tribe, while my father the Quileute.
Jared continued, "Now that shifting has reappeared, Sam and I can turn into wolves at will. Unless we're angry, and then we shift involuntarily, but not only during a full moon, and we have our minds still—that's normal stuff. But there is a rare, but not that rare, since it's already happened to Sam and now me, there's an umm, effect? No, that's not the right word. Occurrence. Still not a great fit, but it'll do."
I had no idea where he was going with this but I tried to keep the skepticism off my face.
"So this occurrence," he struggled to explain, "when a wolfs finds, well, make's eye contact, and he sees her for the first time, but I guess it could be a him, so the right person—"
And he explained the process of imprinting with awe-filled words and sweet sighs, adding that it was the best thing that had ever happened to him. I confusedly listened, trying to make sense of what he was saying.
I gathered this much: I was his center. I was his world. I was his perfect match. I was—everything to him.
"Saying 'I love you' is the biggest understatement for it," Jared explained with such intensity that I couldn't stop listening or look away, "I live for you. Breath for you. I will do anything you want, be anything you want. Seriously, Kim, your happiness is my happiness."
I was literally speechless. And thoughtless. And numb.
I was also beginning to feel like this was serious. Jared had seriously convinced himself that I was…what? His imprintee? No, that was wrong. But I was feeling odd. Almost like I, in some sort of twisted way, believed him.
Yet even if I didn't completely disbelieve what he was saying, I was forced to recognize that the whole thing made me want to throw up.
I stood up in the midst of him talking about all my virtues and waxing poetry about what made me his absolutely perfect match. I felt dizzy. Too much happening in a short amount of time.
"Kim?" he asked in alarm. He made to move towards me but I held up a hand.
"Give me a second," I said. I closed my eyes without seeing his reaction. Think, Kim, think. How can I reorient myself to this nonsense?
A few deep breaths later, I calmly opened my eyes. "Two things. First, I need proof. Turn into a wolf." This, I thought, could disprove his primary delusion.
He pursed his lips together. "Outside," he nodded, holding his hand out. I grasped it, comforted.
I don't know what I expected. For him to get down on all fours and start howling like he was a wolf? Maybe.
I definitely didn't expect the beautifully terrifying transformation that did take place.
If I were a fainter, here's that cue. But since I more of a 21st century kind of gal, who grew up with horror movies and the like, I simply stared.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
As inappropriate as it was, I noticed how beautiful he was as a…a….
Yeah, that thing.
But I still couldn't quite get past the fuck part of the situation. Ever had one of those moments where all words desert you and all that's left is one or two that aptly describe anything that could possibly happen? Or, at least, describe your reaction to it.
For example, you stub your toe. Shit. Fuck. Fuckkkkk. Maybe some agonized whimpering.
You find out that your lousy husband ran off with his blonde secretary, simultaneously draining your savings account to have an extended stay in the Bahamas. Hasn't happened to me. But I can imagine the only word I would be able to say upon enlightenment: motherfucker, motherfucking fucker, FUCK.
And the boy you've pined after since middle school is a shape shifting wolf…
A simple chain of fuck fuck fuck fuck works well.
Jared shifted seamlessly back.
Apparently words are inadequate in the face—Kim, stop looking lower!—of Jared's naked form. Uh, why didn't he warn me of this?
I would like to say I didn't stare at his, uh, that.
Scratch that.
Of course I fucking stared. His body was beautiful. I'd never seen a man's penis in real life before, but I figured most weren't so large. Jared had a wide and long one, dark like the rest of his body, and beautiful too. I wanted to go over and lick it.
Dear Brain,
You used to function on a semi-regular basis. What happened? Why leave me now, when I desperately need sanity?
Please re-mind me,
Kim
My brain did eventually re-solidify and I worked my eyes above his waist, to his delicious abs...and I stopped there to gawk some more. Was it normal to wish to lick someone's entire body?
I heard the loud sound of breathing, noted I was panting and embarrassing myself and so wet I could feel the slick on my thighs, and why wasn't Jared putting some goddamn clothes on? Wasn't it enough that he had dropped all this information with barely a "brace yourself, Kim" and now he was fucking with my body and mind even more.
"Put. Something. ON." I said through clenched teeth, having to forcefully rip my eyes away. My subconscious was going to go haywire tonight. And from the feel of my clenching stomach and ragged breathing, I was going to need the release.
I heard the smirk in Jared's voice. "Like what you see?" he huskily teased, not moving an inch. Well, let me amend that; something moved an inch. Up.
And back to the ogling. His dick was getting larger than I thought possible.
"I kind of tore my clothes," he admitted sheepishly.
Huh? Stare, stare, stare. No, Kim, be strong!
I wasn't. And here, I could pinpoint later upon more rational grounds, was where I faltered and fell.
I slowly locked eyes with Jared and something absolutely primal ran between us and through me.
And my thoughts discerned themselves into one clear concept. I had power over Jared. Accepting the ludicrous for one second, or at least accepting that Jared believed it, I was the key to Jared. All of him. His body, soul, and mind. Maybe not in that order but all of it nonetheless.
And maybe I was going crazy, or wanted more proof, or just needed to test the theory of this power, but I beckoned him over with a sharp twist of my index finger.
He immediately complied. It was like he was in motion before I even moved; he anticipated my want and acted to please me.
It flooded me with a sense of control and desire. My brain and good sense and any capability of higher thinking were obscured. He was so close to me now, I could feel the heat engulfing me. I reached out and lightly dragged my hand from his collarbone to his sternum, eyes watching his face the entire time. It wasn't necessary to look down; I could feel the reaction there.
Power, power, power.
Not bothering with saying more, I turned around and headed back into my house, so secure in the knowledge that he was going to follow me, I didn't look back. I went straight to my room.
When he entered the room, I said quietly, "Get on the bed."
No hesitation from him.
"Lay back. Don't move," I said carefully and watched as he followed my instructions exactly. Everything was quiet, except for our breathing; even Elvis wasn't chirping.
There was a hurricane in my brain that made everything swivel and stir around, words floating without control to the forefront of my mind.
He's in my control. Center. Mine.
No choice. No free-will.
Mine.
And I knew what to feel.
I detached myself from my body, as if seeing the scene from outside. Jared, who was beautiful and nude, laying in wait for me on my bed, ready to do whatever I commanded of him. And he didn't see a single thing wrong with that.
But wasn't that just part of the magic?
Compassion swelled within me, along with overwhelming sadness. I moved to the side of the bed, and took a seat next to his motionless form. I doubt he even blinked. Why would he, when I asked him not to move?
I tossed a piece of clothing that I snatched from the floor over his most distracting body part. My hands were trembling. He still didn't move, only following me in desperate lust with his eyes.
And love.
That was the emotion I had continuously seen. The elusive sentiment I hadn't been able to put my finger on. He loved me. In every possible way.
A few weeks ago, he barely knew my name.
We had only a handful of encounters, and I was obsessed with the thought of him. I crushed pretty hard on the guy—and guess what? With one stare, my whole life, and his, was changed.
Be careful what you wish for, right? That was no fucking joke.
I held so much power over this person, more than I had ever believed I was capable of having over someone. Shy, timid Kim, who was starting to gain self-confidence, only to be overdosed with it.
Let me be real here, it feels damn good to be on the other end of the reciprocated love spectrum. How horrible does that sound?
I took his large hand in mine. "Look at me," I requested, he did so, and I wondered what the difference between a request and a demand was with him? Nothing, probably.
He must have seen the distress on my face because he hunched over in shame and gripped the pillow to his very impressive manhood. "Oh man, I'm really sorry for getting carried away, I should have thought to have a spare change of clothes or to not rip mine, or to not just stand there like a jackass and expect stuff to happen, not that I did, I just want whatever you want…" I put a finger to his lips, exasperated at his rambling. This man could really babble with the best of them.
"This is a lot to take in," I admitted softly, stroking his hand.
"I know," he said, looking increasingly fearful by what I was going to say.
"If I believe everything you said, and that's a big if for the moment, then there are several problems we have."
He nodded, biting his lip. It distracted me. No, focus! "I said the first thing I wanted was for you to prove you could shift. We can check that off," I said sardonically. "I think I have to believe you about that, or there's something definitely in the water that is making us share the same delusion. So, as unbelievable as this is, I believe my own eyes. But. The major issue I have is—"
"The imprinting," he said softly.
"Bingo," I murmured, my hand on his shoulder. Was there nothing small about this guy? "It really bothers me. And it should bother you too!"
He looked like he wanted to argue, but settled for a "Why?"
Distance; I needed some. I stood and backed away, barking "Stay!" when Jared tried to also follow. Instantly, he obeyed. The comparison of like a dog didn't escape me.
"That," I was getting too overwhelmed and wildly gestured, "is the problem. I say don't move, you're rendered immobile. I tell you to stay, and you're not getting up. If I told you to jump off a cliff, would you? Do you see the problem with this?"
"Kim," he was now the exasperated one, "I can move if I wanted. But I don't want to. I want to do anything in my power to make you happy," he explained, moving his legs over the side of my bed and shifting the pillow along with them.
"And when did this start?" I said pointedly, having heard the answer in his previous explanation of imprinting.
He frowned. "Kim…"
I answered my own question. "When we made eye contact after you changed, right?"
"Yes."
"Before that, you never even knew I existed?"
I could tell he didn't like where this was going. "We already talked about this," he said, with a hint of pleading and sorrow in his voice. "You know I can't change the past. But I will make it up to you for the rest of eternity, if that's what it takes." He was fervent, completely dedicated. He sounded like a religious extremist. A religion called Kim Wilson.
I exploded. "Don't you hear yourself? You looked at me, for a second, and now your tied to me for the rest of your life! What if I was a serial killer, or a vampire, or two years old or ninety? Would you still love me?"
I needed to hear him say it almost as much as I prayed he wouldn't.
He did.
"Yes."
No hesitation.
I felt degraded. "You don't love me, then," I concluded softly. "The me is irrelevant. You would've loved anyone that this magic made you love."
"No!" Jared hastily backtracked, the shaking from earlier beginning to affect him again. "That wasn't how I meant it, you're twisting my words…" he grappled with what to say, but couldn't articulate anything further. The shaking was getting worse. "I have to leave," he said hoarsely, flinging the pillow off him and bolting through my door.
I ran after him, a little scared and a lot concerned.
My front door whirled open and all I saw of him was a flash as he flew outside and burst into his other form. He ran.
I shut the door hurriedly, and slid to the floor.
This was really getting to be a bad habit.
