Inhuman Nature
MoshPit
Simply put, Virginia Grayson loved Saturday mornings. The muffled sounds of the morning cartoons coupled with the innocent laughter of her only son, Timothy, drifting in from the room next to hers; laying awake with her eyes shut tight as the first of the sun's rays played across her face; being able to lose herself in her husband's embrace as the two of them lay entwined within each other, huddled beneath that horrid purple and orange quilt her grandmother had made for them. All of this, combined with the fact that she didn't have to drag herself out of bed and haul herself to work made Saturday mornings the absolute perfect time of the week.
Until the doorbell rang.
Which it always did, second Saturday every month.
"That'll be Warren," he rumbled behind her. "I'll get the door, and let you get Timothy ready." Virginia smiled, and hugged his muscular arms closer to her; a silent thanks. Those little moments, right before her baby left for the weekends, tying his tiny shoes, playing their little counting games, those moments were special to her, for reasons no man would ever, nor could ever, understand.
He swung himself out of bed, stretching and groaning as the newly awake do, and pulled on a 'Frodo Lives' t-shirt hanging from the post of the bed. The green of the shirt clashed with the yellow-orange of his boxers, but did he care? No.
He made his way to the door of the small yet serviceable Grayson apartment. And Warren Wolfson, the cocky bastard, was waiting.
"Hey, dick," Wolfson said with a feral smile, "is Virginia in?"
"Yeah, she's coming. And it's Richard, please." Warren just smiled with that annoyingly dashing and wild way he had.
It would be nice to say that Richard didn't like Warren. It would be nice to say that, yes, but it wouldn't be true. He hated the man, as much as he could hate any person. He hated Warren in the same way he hated Miss Cleo and politicians. Richard hated fakes, and he hated the untrustworthy. Warren, in his eyes, was both. His smile had that unnatural gleam to it that half made you expect to hear a 'ping!' and see a poorly timed 'dazzle' effect. His lank, black hair always seemed to have that greasy sheen to it that Richard usually associated with corrupt and devious lawyers. And his eyes… Though Richard would never admit it to Virginia (or anyone else, for that matter), he would swear on his life he often saw a hungry, wolf-like glint in Warren's eyes whenever he looked at his ex-wife or his son. Small wonder Virginia divorced him after one year (and nine months).
Virginia rounded a corner, fully dressed, her slender hand wrapped tightly around the hand of her small child, looking for the entire world that she feared the boy would fall and break if she let go. For indeed, confusion shone brightly behind the eyes on Timothy's blissfully ignorant face. The boy was still too young at this age to understand neither who this man was who took him from his mother every month, nor why he did so. But he did as all small children do; he went with the flow and loved every minute of it.
She knelt down, fussing with the sticky zipper on her son's jacket, trying to ignore the cold, penetrating stare watching her from the doorway.
"You don't need to do that," he said, his smooth, silky voice wrapping itself around her. "I actually need to talk to you for a moment." Virginia straightened herself, daring herself to look him in the eye. It was the first time, she realized, since she left, that she intentionally looked at Warren. Oh, he had caught little accidental glimpses here and there, but never had she looked at him straight on. She couldn't, even after all this time, without remembering what happened, what he did…
But she couldn't hide forever. He was Timothy's father, and it had been hard enough to get him down to one unsupervised visitation a month. Warren, as much as she hated to admit it, was still a part of her life.
Richard put a protective hand on her shoulder, a compassionate look in his eyes that clearly said, You don't have to. She reached up and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. I know.
^. , .^
Warren quietly shut the door behind him. "Have I mentioned lately," he started, "how much I love the fact that you married a dense Richard? Poor man can't even tell Dick from dick." He smiled at her, that savage, hungry smile she had come to know… and fear.
Virginia folded her arms and leaned against the wall. "If you brought me out here just to insult my husband…" Warren shook his head and, in a movement that surprised Virginia to no end, offered his hand to her.
"Walk with me, Virginia." The woman tensed, uneasy at the prospect of being alone with him to far away from the safety of her home. Warren sensed her fear, and reached out to her, a sharp pain stabbing his heart when she flinched under his touch. "I won't hurt you," he said in soft, soothing tone, wrapping his fingers around the silky curls of her unusually short brown hair. "I could never hurt you."
"You've hurt me before." The cool hardness of her voice chilled him, and Warren suppressed a sad shiver before inching his body closer to hers.
"Yes," he said sadly, "I did. But I wasn't… right. If I had known what I was doing, I never…" he trailed off, the unspoken hate in her eyes silencing him. And for good reason, too. The very idea that he could use his wolfy ways as and excuse for what he did made him feel dirtier than when he had slaughtered that young girl in the fifth kingdom so long ago. Though she deserved it, that one.
Warren sighed, a little downcast, inched closer and brought his hand around to cup her face. "Walk with me. Please." Against all rational thought, Virginia leaned into his hand, her eyes closed, savoring the warmth of his touch. It was wrong, she knew, but hearing him talk to her like that, so sad, and with such kindness, she briefly flitted back to their first moments as a true couple; how soft his voice was when he spoke to her; how smooth he felt when he touched her; how gentle he was when he loved her. Nodding her head ever so slightly, she consented, and started following him down the hall. They walked together for several minutes in silence, side-by-side, so close they were almost touching, but not for the sake of the other.
"What did you want to talk to me about?" Virginia said, finally breaking the silence with her soft, quiet voice. Warren stopped, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply.
"You smell wonderful, Virginia."
"What do you want, Warren?"
"Please!" The urgency in his voice startled her, and even more the abrupt way he grabbed her hand with both of his. "Please," he voice softened now, "we're alone here. You don't have to call me that."
"What is it… Wolf?" It felt so strange, using his real name like that. He had been Warren to the rest of the world for the last three years. Only in the privacy of their own home had she called him Wolf, and she hadn't been in the privacy of their own home for at least a year.
Virginia looked into Wolf's eyes. There was a humanity there she had never seen before, such a deep sorrow. Whatever he was about to say was going to cause the both of them a great deal of pain.
"Come back to me." It was little more that a whisper, filled with such earnest and heartfelt sadness that it was all Virginia could do to keep the tears at bay. She shook her head.
"I can't do that."
"You have to!"
"I don't-"
"For Timothy's sake!" That last bit got to her. As any good mother, Virginia was fiercely protective of her son, maybe more so than others, because she knew what his father was capable of.
"You know what he is," Wolf continued. "You know what he can become. It's easy now; full moon comes around and he may get a bit cranky, but that's normal for small children, isn't it?
"But he can't stay your baby forever, Virginia. Someday, when he's grown older, he's going to change. And he won't understand! He could hurt himself. He could hurt you. " The woman was shaking, the tears she had successfully stopped earlier coming freely now. Wolf, the beginnings of tears forming in his eyes as well, puller her close to him, embracing her, soothing her as he used to do.
"He's my son too, Virginia," he whispered into the sobbing woman's ear. "I only want what's best for him. I want to protect him. To protect you."
The tears were coming slower now, and Virginia felt she should break away from his embrace, but it felt right somehow. The calming, familiar feeling of his strong arms around her slender body… she never wanted to leave.
"Come back with me," he said again, stroking the back of her head. "Come home with me." And for a moment, she almost said yes. She almost forgave him for everything just so she could stay here in the warmth of his arms and be safe. But the thought of Richard sitting back at the apartment, Timothy on his lap, one eye on Freddie Frog Goes to Town, the other on the door, waiting for her return, and she couldn't. She didn't need to go with Wolf to have a home and be safe. She had a home here. She was safe here.
"I'm sorry," she choked out, pushing herself away from him, trying hard to avoid his tearstained cheeks and hurt expression. "I'm so sorry, but I have a life here. I can't just leave it." She started back down the hall towards her corridor, but before she was halfway to her first turn, he called to her.
"What will you tell Richard, then?" Virginia stopped, but did not turn, not daring to give Wolf the satisfaction of knowing he had touched a nerve.
"How will you explain," he continued, "what I am. What Timothy is? How will it change his opinion of you?" Virginia turned fast, and jumped. Wolf was practically on top of her, and slowly backing her against the wall.
"It won't change at all," she said, as courageously as she dared. Wolf snorted. Virginia's back hit the wall, and Wolf's hands rested on the wall on either side of her. Trapped.
"He hates me, you know," he hissed, his voice low and sensual, his face just inches from hers. "He hates that I've touched your creamy skin, and that I've kissed your perfect mouth. He hates that I know what you think, how you think. He hates that I've tasted you. He hates that I've loved you.
"He's never blamed you of course. Never really blamed me either. As far as he knew, I'm just the guy who got to you first. He hates that he got my sloppy seconds." Cruel though it was, Wolf delighted at seeing her flinch and shudder at those last two words. "When he gets wind of how you willingly bedded something less than human, he'll still hate me, but huff puff, he'll hate you more." And now her tears were coming again. "You'll be less than nothing to him. An interspecies slut."
Virginia shuddered, trying to hard to block out the hurtful words, but to no avail. So she resorted to the old 'push-him-off-and-walk-away' routine. To her surprise, it worked. Wolf said nothing, he just fell into step behind her, a cruel smile playing with the corners of his lips.
Virginia hesitated in front of her door. She had to clam herself; no telling what Richard might do if her saw her like this. She scrubbed away her tears with her sleeve, and reached for the knob.
"You don't need to fear me," the deep, silky voice said. "Even if he throws you out, you can always come to me. I will always love you." Virginia said nothing, just opened the door.
After a quick kiss and hug goodbye to Timothy, while avoiding the eyes of Wolf, Virginia shut the door behind them. She folded her arms across her chest and sank back against the door with the sickening sensation that she had just delivered a lamb into the den of a hungry wolf.