We grabbed our coats, slipped on our shoes, and exited the house wordlessly.

"So..." I started.

Matthew looked at me expectantly.

"Um. Where did you want to go?"

He shrugged unhelpfully.

"Oooh-kaaaay. Let's just walk in a random direction then."

He smiled slightly, "Alright. Which one?"

"I don't know. Uh - let's go this way," I suggested, picking a route and starting on it. I really didn't care where we ended up.

Matthew fell into step beside me, mulling over his own thoughts in silence.

"So," I tried again, "About before... Well, how about we just forget about the whole conversation? And pretend things are normal?"

He laughed once, bitterly, "Except that I can't forget, and I'm sure you can't either."

"Pretend then."

His earnest gaze met mine, his voice taking on an edge of extreme intensity, "Can you? Can you really pretend so easily that I'm not a monster?"

I glared at him, "You're being stupid."

"How so?" His lips tightened and his eyes flashed.

I rolled my eyes, "I didn't mean that you 'weren't a monster'."

"What did you mean then?"

"The whole I'm-not-safe-thing. Of course I want to know more about you. But let's just pretend that I'm not in danger from those people - or whatever."

"That's not so easy to pretend," he said solemnly.

"Please," I asked.

He sighed, "But you mustn't forget that they're not the only people you're in danger from." His voice had become softer, had filled with a deep, guttural sorrow.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

He raised an eyebrow and looked back at me pointedly.

"Oh," I answered, getting it, "You mean yourself, don't you?"

He nodded curtly, avoiding my eye.

"Well - Alright, I have an idea."

He waited.

"Well," I continued, "I was thinking we could have a sort of - modified twenty-questions thing."

His left eyebrow rose again, this time in curiosity.

"Yeah. So, for every question you ask, I get two questions. And we have to answer truthfully, not excluding anything that isn't absolutely vital for me not to know. I'm not talking about information that will put me in greater danger. I'm talking about information that will doubtless get me killed or leave me soulless." I hadn't forgotten his chilling words. While death was one thing I wasn't too particularly scared of, losing my soul somehow was another matter entirely.

I studied his face for his reaction. His expression was thoughtful.

"How come you get two questions for every one of mine?" he asked playfully, the corners of his mouth turning up in amusement.

"Because you have a distinct advantage."

"Which is?"

"You have the benefit of being able to say that not telling me something would kill me. How do I know you're not lying?"

"Fair enough. But don't you trust me?" he asked, his voice teasing.

"No," I retorted.

He winced as if I'd punched him, all traces of teasing instantly gone.

"Just being honest," I murmured, instantly regretting my quick reply, "Setting an example. No matter how much reluctance you have,you have to be honest in this."

"Well, this should be a prime opportunity for me to earn your trust then," Matthew answered quietly after a beat of silence.

"Yes," I answered.

We walked on in silence for awhile.

"You can start," Matthew finally suggested.

I shook my head, "You start."

"Okay - why did you feel the need to clarify this setup - why didn't you just ask your questions right away?"

"I wanted to emphasize the honesty thing."

"Oh," he said, his mouth twisting downward in displeasure, "So it's the trust issue?"

"Uh - uh. It's my turn."

He rolled his eyes and the corners of his mouth twisted slightly upwards in a ghost of a smile.

I hesitated.

"Well?" he asked.

"Can you read minds?" I blurted out.

His eyebrows rose in surprise.

"No."

"Oh." Although I was pretty sure he couldn't, I had to be absolutely certain.

I suppose if he had been able to, he probably wouldn't have waited for me to ask the question.

"And Lorraine," I continued, "Can she...?"

"Yes," he answered steadily, eying me suspiciously.

"Yes?" I asked incredulously.

"Yes. How did you figure that one out?"

"It just seemed like she could. I didn't know for sure, though."

"I wasn't aware that you talked to her that much," he said carefully, and his eyes gleamed.

"I don't," I admitted, "But in the few times I have... well, I suspected it."

"Ah. You're very perceptive then." He smiled.

"Yes, well..." I shrugged.

"What do you eat?" I asked after a moment, curiosity getting the better of me.

"Not humans," he said teasingly, and continued, "I eat the same that you do, mostly. I'm not much for sugar, or overly processed foods. Or bread. I prefer meat, and dairy. And... I like raw meat. The bloodier the better."

I crinkled my nose, grossed out.

He chuckled at the expression on my face.

At least he didn't eat humans; that was a huge relief.

We walked on, silence once again separating us as we each became immersed in our own ponderings.

"It's still your turn I believe," Matthew reminded me after a few minutes.

"Yes."

"Don't you have a question?" his eyes were playful again.

"Yes." I just wasn't sure how to ask him.

"Well?"

"Well - it's just - the other day. You said that I was your - 'singer'. And that that meant that you desperately wanted to kill me. What exactly do you mean by 'singer'? Why does that make you want to kill me?"

I wondered if I was treading on forbidden ground.

His teeth clenched and his breath hissed from between them. His eyes shone darkly.

"I'd rather not get into that," He murmured.

"You have to; you have to follow the rules of the game."

I was walking out on a limb - awaiting the answer in dreadful anticipation.

He sighed.

"So," I continued, my pulse quickening. I took an extra-large step ahead and pivoted around so that I blocked his way. I stopped, "What did you mean?"

He stopped as well. We were a little beyond the end of town now, and the only ones on the deserted road. Dense green forest surrounded us.

"Well," he murmured after a moment, "You smell nice."

I blinked.

"What?"

"You smell - amazing."

I was taken aback.

"Er - thanks - but what does that have to do with- "

"No," he interrupted me, "That's what it means."

That I smelled good?

What?

"I don't understand," I admitted, growing frustrated, "How does my smelling good make you want to - " And then it hit me.

"Oh," I said softly, taken aback again.

He sighed, and looked away.

"You mean I smell good as in... appetizing?" I asked apprehensively.

He nodded once, curtly.

"Oh..." I said lightly, letting my sentence trail away. My pulse quickened, but I didn't feel terrified, didn't feel the need to run away. I didn't even feel really scared; I felt a steady calmness settle over me as I watched his fidgeting, ashamed face.

Slowly, slowly, my heart rate declined to a normal pace again, and I felt a rush of affection towards him.

Almost as if he could hear my heartbeat slowing, he looked up and stared me straight in the eyes again, his face becoming incredulous.

"Doesn't that bother you?" he asked, sounding appalled.

"A little," I admitted reluctantly after a moment.

"Only a little?" he asked, still shocked.

"Yes."

"Why?" he asked, his voice taking on a frustrated edge, "Did you not understand? You smell amazing to me - not just appetizing," he seemed intent on repulsing me, his words pouring from him in his own hoarse, disgusted tone, "Amazing. Your smell - if it wasn't for the special connection I'd felt when I had seen your face, I have no doubt that I would have killed you the second you came close enough for your scent to hit me. I could have killed you in less than a second - and I would have enjoyed it. Immensely. The way you would taste!" His nostrils flared and his eyes rolled back before he closed them, his words giving way to a guttural, feral moan.

We were both silent. My heart rate increased again.

After a minute, he opened his eyes and stared into mine,his gaze more intense and penetrating than I'd ever seen it, his body and face utterly still. I suppressed a shiver.

"Still," he whispered, "Still, after all this time - you smell just as good now as you did then. It's - physically painful - not to - kill you."

"Then why don't you?" I asked, transfixed.

He flinched, his face twisting in disgust, his eyes returning to their a normal intensity level.

"I couldn't - ever!" he said, deeply disturbed.

A small sigh of relief escaped my lips. I was sure it didn't go unnoticed by Matthew.

"I just," he continued, and sighed, "You've successfully wreaked havoc on my life, and transformed me into an emotional wreck you know."

I bit my lip, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

He sighed again, "Look. I - as I said before, I feel more strongly for you than I ever have for anyone in my life - and not just in how much I want to kill you, though that is the most intensely I've felt that towards a human too. When I saw you, I knew, instantly, that I was in serious danger of falling in love with you, and quickly. I was - so attracted to you - to everything about you, every hair on your head, every breath in your lungs, every thought in your head. The overwhelming instinct to protect you always, no matter what from -even from me - it took over. I knew that if you died, if you ceased to exist, - the world would cease to have meaning."

My pulse had doubled at least, this news was harder for me to comprehend than that he still wanted to kill me.

I was probably losing my mind.

"How old are you?" I asked, trying to change the subject. I was extremely curious about his answer - it was possible he'd stopped aging after receiving his bite - if that was actually how he'd become a werewolf. Matthew was such an old-fashioned name. As was Lorraine. They were classics - he could be fifty, or two hundred. Who knew?

"You ask difficult questions," he said reluctantly, "But, physically, I'm between the ages of eighteen and - about twenty-two."

"Physically?" I challenged, "How old are you really, though?"

He sighed.

"I have the intellect, emotions, and overall mental development - well - it's higher than most humans ever get. So, my brain can't really be classified by age - I work way differently than a human."

"But how long have you existed on this planet?" I pressed.

"Technically - well, don't be disturbed by this, you promise?" he asked.

He must be ancient. Strangely, that didn't bother me.

"I promise," I said confidently.

"Well - technically - I've been 'on this planet' for... seven years."

I coughed, shock gripping me.

"Seven?" I choked.

I was falling in love with a SEVEN-YEAR-OLD?

"Calm down!" he said, alarmed, "Look, I'm not a human, it's not the same as humans! It's not like I'm a seven-year-old, for crying out loud."

It sure seemed like that was the case.

He must have correctly interpreted my dubious look correctly; he stepped closer to me, ignoring me when I shrank back, staking another step so that we were

"Listen, Paige - I am not a little kid. I'm not seven. I'm physically just a little older than you and mentally, emotionally, way beyond the level of any eighteen-year-old. I'm just - special like that. My mom aged even faster, you know. She's technically only been in existence for twelve years. She had me after being in this world only five years. She stopped aging when she'd been here for six. I aged at only half the rate she had, for awhile. Then, one day, I lost my temper at Lorraine. I - transformed, into a wolf for my first time. And then both Lorraine and I suddenly sped up in aging - and, two years later, here we are."

I was breathing more quickly now. He took a step closer again, and this time I didn't flinch away.

He made sense, even though it was weird. He wasn't human, and human rules didn't apply.

I could accept that. It would be hard to get around, but I could do it.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out.

When I opened them again, Matthew was closer than before, so close I could feel his hot breath on my face, feel the heat radiating from his skin.

My breath caught.

I could see every pore in this skin, see every particle of the stubble on his chin. His chest rose and fell slowly, his breathing even and slow. His eyes watched me, thousands of unreadable thoughts and emotions hidden in the deep brown pools. I imagined I could hear his heart beating as fast as mine.

"Why are you so hot?" I whispered, slowly raising my hand and resting it against his chest. It was unbelievably hot. The cold wind blew against my back, cutting through my jacket and hair, creating an almost frightening contrast from the burning in my hand. He was like a heater, warming to be near, hot to the touch. I wanted to be closer, "Temperature-wise I mean."

He shrugged, "Just a weird werewolf thing, I guess."

"Oh."

He leaned in closer. I leaned in as well. His face moved closer, his mouth almost nearing mine, both our breathing accelerating, our hearts undoubtedly in a near synchronized frenzy of beating. Our lips almost met...

"It's getting late," I announced suddenly, turning my head away, ruining the moment.

My heart ached with disappointment. My mouth tingled, reproaching me.

He stepped back, hurt evident on face.

Everything was just happening too fast, there was just too much information to take in so quickly.

"Yes," he agreed softly, "It'll be totally dark in fifteen minutes."

"I'd better get back."

We weren't that far away.

"Yeah. Do you want me to walk you home?"

Yes.

"No. I'll be okay. Thanks."

He nodded curtly, and turned to leave me.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Do you want to?" he murmured.

"Yes." Of course I did. I didn't really want him to leave.

"Then yes, you will."

I smiled slightly.

"Goodnight," he whispered.

"Goodnight," I whispered back.

And then he was gone.

I stood alone, forest surrounding me in all directions, the cold wind whipping around me, massaging my scalp with icy air, my breath freezing in my nose and throat. Just being in Matthew's presence had stopped me from feeling the full ferocity of the early December night.

I shivered, wishing I had brought a hat and gloves, and made my back towards my house.