City of Wolves: Alphas on Motorcycles

8 | Disbelief

Matthew

"You are seriously doing this right now?" I hiss.

"Yes. I am seriously doing this right now. I can afford to live on my own. I make enough credits each month to live on my own. I don't need to live with you. I work on salary and commission. Living with you is entirely a choice."

Credits are our form of currency. It's the same idea as money, except we don't need to make nearly as much credits a month to live comfortably. Between Celeste and I we make good credits per month, but she is the breadwinner. We have managed to save a lot of credits because of our dual income. If she takes half of what we've saved, which she would be entitled to and I would not fight her on, she could afford not to work for a couple years probably. Not to count what she already has in her personal account.

"You could just leave me? Just like that?" I am stunned. "How could you do such a thing to me? We've known each other since we were fifteen. We've been together since we were eighteen. Five years. Poof. Just like that? Do the past years mean nothing to you?"

"Tonight was the first night I joined you out there and since then I have seen things happen around you that I have never seen happen before. I think you are a good person, I never doubt that, but I can't keep risking my livelihood for yours when you are keeping secrets because I promise that I have shared all of mine with you."

I love Celeste. She is the love of my life. I was fortunate enough to have met my true mate when I was young but tragedy struck when she died from a terminal illness before we became teenagers. Cancer. My mate died from a disease we supposedly still cannot find a cure for. When high school started I remember Celeste being in a few of my classes. She was pretty, smart, quiet, but liked among her peers—many of whom she is still friends with today. She played soccer and volleyball; I played football and basketball. We hung out in the same circles, went to the same parties. I liked her because she kept her distance from the rowdiness of it all—an observer. Someone who knew how to survive. Someone who knew how to blend in despite her allure.

It was at a party that I worked up the courage to ask her on a date—only a couple of months after we graduated. I realized my life, somehow, was emptier without seeing her all the time and admiring her from afar. Taken aback, she considered for a moment but ultimately agreed. On that date I did tell her about my first love and she listened. She was so kind and supportive about it. She rubbed my back in the car when my eyes teared up and I allowed myself to fall in love again—I made the choice to fall in love with her, just as she makes the choice to stay with me rather than find her true mate. I don't regret it. She is a good woman and she takes care of me. I am a lucky man. But she is right. She's given me all of her deepest, darkest secrets. She must think that I'm using them as leverage over her. Celeste is smart—I can't continue gaslighting her.

I am not a human. I am an abomination. An abnormality. A defect. A genetic mutation. When I die scientists will start wars over my body.

"Celeste, how about I show you instead?" I pose the idea. "You will never believe me when I tell you. You know my parents are fully human, right? You know that's the truth."

"Yes," she nods. It seems like she already knows what I'm about to tell her. She beats me to the punch. "But you're...not?"

"I come from a long line of humans. Not once has there ever been a Lycan or werewolf in my bloodline. Honest. I swear on my life," I put my hand over my heart. She steps away from the door. I take a step away from the balcony but when she shrinks I realize I'll have to wait for her to come to me. "You believe that, right? You remember when my mom and dad told you and your parents as much?"

"Yes," she nods again. "Yes, I believe them."

"Celeste, I am a full-blooded Lycan."

"No you're not," she laughs, a laugh of denial and implausibility. "There's...there's no way. There's a zero percent chance of that happening. Your parents are full-blooded humans. I can see maybe an old unknown dormant werewolf gene being activated...but Lycan? Matthew, that's just impossible. My parents are both half werewolves and can shift, yet I can't."

"Sounds like you just got the short end of the stick," reluctantly she sways her head in eventual agreement, rolling her eyes at the jest. "I tell you no lies, Celeste. I wouldn't do that to you...not now that you are clearly onto a scent."

"If you were a Lycan I'd be able to pick up on some sort of scent from you. Even if you were part werewolf. You've never smelled anything but human to me."

"That has to be part of the mutation."

"What about your ID card? Or is that just a red herring?"

"I have the ability to stun and control people—I don't abuse that power, but I use it when necessary. That's my gift—one that is even rarer than yours," I feel haste to explain everything I can to her despite knowing it's fruitless right now. "When they took my blood for my ID card they said my sample was irregular but still within human range. Labelled me human, and under my guidance took no more samples. My pheromones obviously aren't the same because it's a mutation rather than a documented ancestry. Celeste, I genuinely can't explain how or why this happened but it did. That's really all I know."

"Prove it," she challenges. "Shift right here. Right now. Prove it."

"Not here," I shake my head. "What's wrong with you? That's one way to blow my cover after twenty-three years. You are the only person who knows; even my parents don't know."

"Then I don't believe you. You are something else, but not a Lycan."

I am a wolf in sheep's clothing but Celeste doesn't believe I'm wearing a costume. Clenching my jaw, irritated, I close the distance between us, grabbing my jacket from the hallway closet, throwing Celeste's jacket over her head and throwing our shoes together on the carpet. We are going out again whether she likes it or not. I'll make her believe me. She won't make a liar out of me. She will see my honesty just as the sun is beginning to rise. She will regret her disbelief. She will realize that of all the people she can trust in this world I am a fair bet.

"Where are we going?" she asks, flummoxed.

"You can ask more questions after I show you what I need to show you. I'm not telling you anything else until then. You will have to see for yourself."

She raises an eyebrow and stares at me, scanning my face with her chestnut-brown irises, cheeks turning ruddy either out of embarrassment or nervousness. I can tell she wants to bicker some more, to ask more questions, to go on disbelieving me, but she can't resist the temptation of seeing whatever she needs to see for herself. We are at a stalemate until she closes her eyes and sighs, running a hand through her loose curls. She slips on her jacket and shoes, facing me directly, just less than a head shorter than me.

"Let's see what you are capable of," she comments as we step outside into the hallway.