Homecoming Luna

Chapter 8: Stay Out Of My Head

• •• •••Merlara's POV••• •• •

"Fifty bucks say she'll forget her tongue in his mouth." Ephraim wagers, making it his third bet with Wik in the last hour.

Ephraim's a chill guy with an uncanny interest in all things metaphysics. Besides Kipp, he's responsible for coining out most of the slangs we bounce around while on duty. He's one of my many bullies turned friends, with our friendship inspired by the grudging understanding on his part that it's less tasking being on my good side than on my bad.

Looking up from my phone, I follow their eyes to survey the unfolding scene. A teeny smile curl my lips.

Across the street is a guy, preppy-looking. He stands at the end of the long driveway, sniffing his shirt collar again and again like he's worried he smells bad. Coming his way from the house is a slender girl, presumably his girlfriend. Pertinent fact is that neither of them look like they've ever broken a rule their entire life. And the girl, she looks like she wouldn't kill an ant, not even for a million dollars.

"Ehhhh . . .I wouldn't be so sure if I were you." Wik replies with a dissuading smile.

Just like every other weekend this month, we're outside the main entrance of a house packed full of party goers gyrating to thumping music. And we're here, not to party it up but on sentry duty; to babysit and give a semblance of safety and order. As if this reckless crowd could care less.

The whole place looks like a war zone. If war zones involves the dizzying smell of raging hormones and daring pack members our age acting like they've got spare lives.

"Wanna make it a hundred?" Comes Ephraim's reply. His eyes twinkle with the excitement of making easy cash.

"Oh man!" warns Wik with a smirk. Again, his eyes dart to the couple in question. "We talking ciss-ered right?"

"Yeah, and the whole nine yards?"

"I'll take it." Wik accepts.

"No funny business, Merl." Ephraim warns playfully, holding a fist out to me.

"Fine." I laugh lightly, pocketing my phone to bump it.

Judging by how fragile the girl looks and her naive looking boyfriend, Wik's bet is reasonable. Softhearted Wik. But without even having to try, I know the girl's mind was made up way before she even came out here.

Still I say, "I'll call it. I'm with Wik on this one." Probably because I'm a romantic at heart.

And so three pairs of eyes watch two lovers greet in the most lackluster way, then proceed to snapping at each other. It all goes to hell when she—tears brimming her eyes—sniffs him, sniffs again and in the next moment, claws an angry gash across his chest and flings him across the lawn like he's some ragdoll that weighs nothing. All in the blink of an eye.

"Damn it!!!" Wik cries the same moment Ephraim says, "Uh huh, gimme gimme!"

With a s**t eating grin, he pries out the dollar bill from Wik's hand and then takes my extended one.

I playfully shake my head. I've never seen anyone so happy to make money off of betting that a girl will sniff out the telltale scent of her boyfriend's unfaithfulness. A boyfriend who tried and failed to mask his other chick's scent using the infamous Ciss extract.

Before Ephraim could gloat any further, Wik blinks hard to tap into an incoming mind-link and informs us that Simon has got a family emergency and needs someone to relieve him.

"Round?" I ask.

"Yeah, he's promising to return the favour. Double shifts or whatever else."

He looks to Ephraim who shrugs his refusal.

"Okay, yeah. I'll take it." I say.

"Uhhh, you sure?" He gives me a look of uncertainty. "It's Upper Pack."

"Yeah, no problem." Makes no difference to me. I'm aware most people would rather not venture there but I've been curious. "Will be good to stretch my legs."

He gives me directions and with that, I get going.

As I go, I gather my hair and tie it high while the muted sound of my combat boots keep me company.

Our black stretchy, skin-tight uniform of long sleeves and pants cinched together with a wide belt and a zip up the center makes it easy to blend in and stand out depending on the occasion.

But tonight, as I venture into the supposed house thirty-something minutes later, it makes me stand out like a sore thumb.

All around are women and ladies dressed to the nines and good-looking males looking dapper in party casual.

"Merla, hey."

I turn to find Round behind me.

"Round."

Contrary to his name, he's anything but round. He's lean and limber and knows how to use both to his advantage. I know this because we've been pitted against each other a couple times in training.

I look around. "I don't see Natchez. Aren't you guys partnered?"

"The b***h ass left soon as we got here. Spat some bullshit excuse and took off."

I nod in understanding. "Yeah, typical."

"I know. Bray will can my ass if I leave here too early so I really appreciate this, alright?"

I wave him off. "It's nothing."

He throws me a thankful smile.

"I owe you, okay?" He says as he leaves in a hurry.

Him gone, I turn and survey the scene.

I don't know what I was expecting but I guess this beats it by far. I smell money whichever way I look. The tasteful outdoor furniture. Cozy ambience brought on by the ornate fence lamps. The general feel to the property.

I stick close to the entrance, watching and cataloging as much as my eyes see.

For awhile, nothing ticks me off. Unless I'm counting the guy by the pool who keeps giving me indecipherable looks. He makes it harder to ignore when he abandons the group he's with to stomp up to me. This guy—the way he's carrying himself suggests he's someone notable. But most of all, I dislike his energy.

"You got something you wann' say to me?" He breathes at me.

Huh?

"What?" I give him a funny look. He's the one in my face, not the other way round.

His nose wrinkles down at me like I'm gum underneath his pristine shoes. But beneath all that, I perceive fear.

Fear of what? Of me? Fear for me?

He opens his mouth to say something—no doubt—demeaning.

In that moment and on reflex, I almost decapitate an arm that casually comes to rest over my shoulders in a claiming manner.

The arm belongs to a manly scented, tall defined body practically plastered against my side. And to that body is attached a green eyed, pretty face. A man's.

The Pretty Face mischievously grins down at me then at the pristine shoe guy.

"Ohhh. I see you've met Mobby."

My face looks from him to Mobby. Very angry looking Mobby.

Mobby, red faced or not, is not my concern. Because who the f**k is this guy acting like we've been cheeky all our lives.

I didn't mean to but in my curiosity, I see myself taking a peek into his head only to be almost knocked off on my ass.

"STAY! OUT!! OF!!! MY!!!! HEAD!!!!!" The intensity of the screamed words capitulate me well out of his head.

I wasn't expecting that. It gives me an instant head pounding causing me to feel woozy for an agonizing second.

And of course, Pretty Face's waiting arms are there to steady me.

He chuckles knowingly like he's been yelling that in his head the whole time, waiting for me to take the bait and snoop.

"C'mon love, if you go swooning over me like that everytime you see me, I'm gonna have a hard time not tearing your clothes off again." He murmurs low enough for the words to seem intended for just me but loud enough that Mobby's werewolf ears will no doubt pick them up.

Tearing my—?! Well hell, who is he?!!

A glance up shows Mobby's departing back as he stomps away.

"You good?" Pretty Face asks in concern, balancing the drink in his left hand as I try to regain my balance.

"Yeah," I leave his arms and put a safe distance between us, leveling him an expectant look.

His eyes dance with mirth.

"Sorry about that." He shrugs a little, chuckling at my face. "Figured you needed an out. Mobby can be quite the joy."

"I'm Farr. But you can call me Farr." His gorgeous face breaks into another wide, mischievous grin.

"Farr? As in named after the Wind Goddess's boy toy." Something about him frees my tongue.

His smile whitens. "The one and only. My parents are humorous."

"Very."

It's pointless to offer my name. His earlier screamed warning suggests he already knows who I am.

He comes to stand close and I find that I don't mind. There's a warm embrace feel to him.

"So love, what's a girl like you doing in the Black-U?"

Black-U is how everyone casually refers to the Black Unit.

I give him a look. My story isn't a light-hearted one but somehow I know he isn't asking for laughs.

"You tell me. What have you heard?" I ask, studying him. Contradictorily, he has anguished brown eyes that's always beaming, a bit of a sideburns and a face that looks winning. He's got this face that makes you want to mirror his vibe, makes you want to be in on the private joke.

"Oh, I've heard lots."

I snort. "Yeah?"

"Sorry to break it to you, love but you're infamous. Words go round."

A curious "Hm," is all I say with a small frown.

"Your pretty face for one. Though, no one said how pretty. Or how disarming your face really is." He smirks at my smiling lips and upturned brows. "Word also say that you can bewitch a man with a single look."

This draws a loud laugh out of me. "Really? You bewitched yet?"

"On my way there." His eyes shine with laughter. He lifts his red solo cup to his lips and still manages a cute shrug. "But even I was, I wouldn't know it now, would I?"

Oh well! Fair point.

Mid-laugh, my eyes catch the unflinching glare of a girl across the back yard from us.

"Something tells me I'm not the only one with the bewitching powers."

His brown eyes crinkle. "Why do you say that?"

"Cause homegirl over there kinda wants me to get in line."

He follows my eyes over his shoulder to the lady who's been eyeballing the s**t out of me.

"It's a surprise I'm still breathing. Might wanna give me cover before she sets me aflame."

He turns back to me, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nah, she's harmless."

His face remains smiling.

"A heart you broke?"

With his pretty boy smiles, I can see just how.

"Guilty." He suspends his wide shoulders in mock surrender, with the sheer innocence of an adorable child.

I can't help it. I throw my head back and the laugh bubbles out of me, and my ponytail swings with it.

In that same breath, I feel a sharp tingle then freeze up as my eyes collide with velvet black ones. Cold eyes sitting atop a straight nose. The zing effect is instant. It involuntarily makes my skin thrum and reel with an abstruse energy.

There's everything raw about that stare.

With great effort, I blink away from Alpha Daen's eyes into Farr's.