Secrets By Moonlight

The first part of a paranormal romance involving "wolfen" René Marchand and human Phoebe Taylor. What do you do when you've fallen in love with a girl who doesn't know what you are?

The moon shone on her dancing in such a way, I found myself reliving the night we met. She was an English major at the college I attended and I was nothing more than an admirer under the guise of a music student. Or, that’s what I became the first moment I saw her blonde hair bounce on her shoulders and her playful, blue-eyed gaze intersect with mine. Something inside of me stirred that could have been explained as mere appreciation of her stunning body if she and I were the same kind of being. But we weren’t and Phoebe didn’t realize that yet.

I knew I had to tell her. I had to tell her soon.

Phoebe said I looked different than the other guys. I couldn’t tell the difference because other men in their mid-twenties seemed to look the same as I did. My chestnut hair and my brown eyes didn’t scream of anything unusual. I appeared to be human enough that nobody noticed the moments when a bit of yellow crept into my irises and I reserved my otherworldly moments for the privacy of my apartment or nights alone in the field where I currently sat, watching Phoebe. I wanted to share everything with her, though. When she first asked for my name, I almost divulged my real name, not the assumed identity that found its way onto my driver’s license.

Hearing her call me Ryan sounded just as sweet as anything else would have. A rose by any other name; isn’t that how it went? No, not quite, and the realization that she didn't know who I really was provoked a frown at the same moment she stopped dancing and looked down at me. “What’s wrong, Ryan?” she asked.

Mom often told me that Dad donated a bit too much of his genetic coding into my makeup. It surfaced when I mustered another grin for her. “You look so beautiful,” I said to her. “Makes me wish I could dance with you.”

Phoebe held out her hand. “Well, silly, come on and stand up.”

I laughed and shook my head. “No, no, not any chance of seeing me attempt to dance. Your feet wouldn't be able to take being stepped on that many times.”

“I can't believe it. A music major who can’t dance.”

“Hey, I can play it. Doesn’t mean I can waltz to it.”

Phoebe giggled. Rather than pressing the issue, she sat next to me, our shoulders touching as she assumed the same position I had. My legs stretched out before me. Both hands positioned on each side, set back a little to support my weight. I adjusted my position and wrapped an arm around her, drawing her closer to me.

“This has been such a wonderful night,” she observed as her gaze shifted upward to the heavens.

“It has, hasn’t it?” I sighed just the same. The perfect night would have been a better way of putting it. “Kind of like the first night I saw you.”

She giggled again. I smiled as I envisioned the blush rising to her cheeks. “How long has it been now? Three months?”

Three phases of the moon, yes. I felt each one of them pass with an aching only someone like me could experience. Looking toward the sky, I nodded. “About that, yeah. Going on four. That’s part of the reason I was thinking about that first night.”

“I thought you were so cute. Even if you were staring at me.”

I laughed, self-conscious. “You’re hard not to stare at.”

“I could say the same about you.”

“Nothing special about me,” I said, but the moment the words escaped my lips, I wished I could take them back. I brought her out here to tell her something quite to the contrary.

She didn’t see the bald-faced lie placed before her. “I disagree.” Phoebe’s tone suggested a compliment was forthcoming, not the proper admonition I deserved. “I’ve been with other guys, Ryan. You’re much different than them.”

“You keep saying that. What do you… mean by that?” Hope sprang eternal that she’d give me the proper segue into my confession.

“You act differently,” she said. Her gaze shimmered as her eyes shifted toward my face. “I feel safe around you. You are gentle; sweet. More refined than the others. Almost aristocratic.”

Close, but not close enough. “Eh, I have plenty of flaws.”

“Such as what?”

“Well…” I pursed my lips in thought. “There are moments it seems like I present a different face to people, you know? A lot of people think they see me, when they don’t.”

“What don’t they see about you?”

My other form. “They don’t see anything but the external me. Does that make any sense?”

Phoebe nodded and looked away. “Not enough people want to get to know the real person. They get stuck on what’s on the outside.”

“You always seem to see through me.”

“Do I really?”

“Better than anyone else.”

The observation provoked a smile from her. I looked down at her and almost said it. In my mind, I heard myself tell her she stirred that instinct into life I’d heard about, but never experienced. Somehow, the only words I could manage to say were, “When I look at you, I think of my parents.”

A puzzled look replaced the smile when her eyes returned to mine. “What do you mean?”

I sighed and fought against the urge to nuzzle at her. The other me wanted to do more than sniff at the floral bouquet she smelled like. I wanted to immerse myself within it. “When… I look at you, I think about how my father looks at my mom. They have such a connection with each other; a special connection.”

When the corners of her mouth curled up in a grin, I couldn’t contain myself. I smiled at her the same way. “I have something I want to tell you, Ryan,” she said.

I studied her, lost within the way the soft glow of nighttime settled on her hair. “What do you want to tell me?”

Phoebe's eyes never left mine. “I love you,” she said. The words laced with nervousness, she spoke them just the same and followed them with, “I’ve never felt this way about anyone else before.”

“I love you, too,” I said. I struggled to hold it back. I knew if I wasn’t careful, the ethereal magic I kept contained underneath my skin would burst to the surface and although part of me wanted to let it, part of me was afraid to. Damn it, I had to tell her, but my eyes shut before I could stop them and the next sensation I felt was her lips touching mine as I leaned closer to her. Her scent filled my senses, but that tentative kiss had us frozen in position as though we were both waiting for one or the other to advance further. Her lips parted and I kissed her a bit deeper, but forced myself to back away when the instinctual pull whispered temptation into my ear.

I had to tell her.

“Phoebe, I…”

“I love you, too, Ryan,” she whispered. Our mouths hovered centimeters apart.

This time, hearing the false name felt so empty. It was the first time my soul ached at hearing someone call me that. I bent my head and sighed.

She opened her eyes, worry consuming her face. “What is it?”

I looked up at her and smiled wanly. “Have you ever been afraid that somebody you cared about wouldn't understand something you wanted to tell them?”

“Are you afraid I don’t believe you?” Phoebe asked, her gaze turning solemn.

“No,” I said. I sighed again and looked away, lifting my hand to run my fingers through my short hair. “I know you believe me, but there are other things about me. I haven’t figured out yet how to tell anyone about them.”

“Why don’t you think I would understand?”

I studied her intently, becoming lost in her eyes, almost seeing her smile with approval at knowing my deepest, darkest secrets. “I’ve been warned,” I said, “By my parents. They don’t want me to tell others where I come from because there are people who don’t like our family.” Not to mention the people who would think me insane if I told them the truth. I looked away and frowned. “I’m supposed to attend class and mind my own business.”

Phoebe placed a kiss on my shoulder. “You can tell me.”

My eyes shifted back toward her once more, seeing the way the moonlight hit her gaze. I loved the moonlight; it brought out the truth in things that other people couldn’t see. ‘Is she truly the one?’ I asked the stars in the heavens, knowing that once I confessed my secret, I’d never be able to take it back. However, I knew the answer before I even posed the question, which brought a smile to my face. “Teach me how to dance,” I said. “We’ll talk while we dance.”

The proposition coaxed a grin onto her face as well. Phoebe rose to her feet and held out a hand to assist me to a stand. My taller stature overshadowed her a little, but she still twined our fingers together and wrapped her other arm around my waist with assertive confidence. “Now, Ryan Merchant,” she said. “If you can keep rhythm, you can learn how to dance.”

I didn’t have a chance to object; she motioned forward and gently pushed me into movement while humming something classical to provide us with a soundtrack. Phoebe laughed the first time I stepped on her toes and admonished me to keep time using my feet. It only took a few attempts for me to figure out how to avoid trouncing all over her.

Phoebe settled herself closer to my body, laying her head on my chest as we danced. I took a deep breath and allowed myself to run my nose along the top of her head, breathing in that floral bouquet and closing my eyes as a euphoric wave passed over me. My other form clamored within me, wanting to beat its tail back and forth with eager anticipation. Yes, she was the one. “I believe in destiny,” I said, breaking the silence. “Does that make me strange?”

“No, it doesn’t,” she said. “I do, too.”

“Oh yeah, and what do you believe?”

I could sense the smile as it emerged on her face. “I wasn’t supposed to be out the night we met. My parents grounded me, but I slipped out of the house anyway.”

“You naughty girl.”

Phoebe chuckled. “I know, aren’t I terrible?”

“How dare you be where I needed you to be so we could meet?”

Phoebe rubbed her face along my chest in a love-laden nudge. I suppressed the urge to return the gesture and found myself wondering if I had a scent as well. Uncovering this bit of trivia became almost as important as every other question I had circling in my mind. It rang so peculiar within me. I could normally hold back every evidence of what I was; my parents taught me how to very well, in fact. In that moment, though, the girl in my arms almost had me reduced down to the four-legged creature with gray-brown fur I became when the urges were more than I could contain, when I’d run through this very field in swift-moving lupine form. The moments when the lunar goddess coaxed howls from my throat as though demanding a song of worship from her servant.

I wanted to show Phoebe my true self. I wanted to sniff her deeper and hold her closer. I didn’t want to be the lonely college student I’d been posing as for the past four years.

I wanted to bite her and make her like me.

My eyes shifted toward the night sky. That planetary body which held me by the leash sat pregnant in the horizon, only a few days shy of being full. I pressed my face against the side of Phoebe's head, preparing myself for the question I knew would shock my girlfriend away from the tender hold I had on her.

“Phoebe,” I began, pausing to swallow past my dry throat. I closed my eyes to take my focus away from the moon and ran my nose across her soft hair again. Yes, this was right. She was the one. “I have a question for you.”

“Go ahead and ask me, Ryan,” she said, holding me a bit tighter as well.

Ryan. I scolded myself not to be morose. Soon, she’d know the truth. Soon, she’d know everything about me. I smiled at the thought of my French name drifting from her lips and prodded myself further, into the thing I needed to reveal to her the most.

“This is a crazy question, but still, I need to know. Do you believe in werewolves?”

Author's Note

Needs polish, I know. Open to any comments, suggestions, etc.

Reviews

[James Snaith]

I quite enjoyed it, the dialog felt natural enough in most places and flowed well – both characters felt natural, although “Ryan” seemed way mature for his age, but I think you covered for that well with the hints about his true nature.

I love the way you played and teased the reader with Ryan’s secret, nicely done.