Page 10 of The Hidden Guardian

“Oh my God, I’ve finally lost it. Colton was my last lifeline and I’ve lost him and my final grip on reality,” I mumble, leaving the bathroom for some air. This is a hallucination. When I turn back, just like when I’d lost my way in the woods, he’ll be gone.

But as I turn around, shaking my head, I’m met with glistening pecs. The half-naked wolf-man is standing before me. I tilt my head to meet his gaze. Has he been following me? Now, upon closer inspection, he looks young. If he shaved off his beard, he wouldn’t look much older than me. But his eyes, his eyes are what tell me that he’s been through more years than I would ever hope to know. They look … ancient.

Silently, we stare at each other before he reaches out his hands and cups my face between them. His hands are big and warm. Instinctively, I lean into them and he growls something low and throaty. His eyes tell me he’s trying to communicate.

“Huh?”

He growls again, this time moving his arms and lips as if that would help.

My brows furrow. “What?” Oh Gods. I’ve really lost my mind. I don’t even understand anything anymore.

He half growls, half groans in frustration, his hand sliding down his face. Growling to himself, much louder than before, he looks around, his nose pointed upward, sniffing the air. He moves past me, heading in the direction he’s not allowed as he goes to open the door to Colton’s room.

“No!” I scream, reaching for him. “That’s my brother’s room.” But it’s too late, he’s inside before I have a chance to grab him. I don’t even know what I was reaching for. He’s not exactly wearing anything I can grab, and me touching his skin might be my undoing.

He sniffs the air again, “Grrof.” He huffs.

“Grof?” I repeat, confused.

He shakes his head, and slower he repeats, “Grrof.” With his hands he mimics claws, and his mouth opens and his incisors start to extend. He looks like he’s about to transform.

“Oh, wolf?”

“Grrof.” He nods. His incisors snap back upward as he smiles.

“Wolf,” I repeat as he sniffs around Colton’s room, and some of the clothes he left laying around. I haven’t been in here since …

The naked man picks up a white shirt from the floor and turns it around toward me. The front has three long slashes down it, and the sleeve has a dark red stain. “Is that blood? Are you saying wolves hurt my brother?”

He stares at me, uncomprehending. “Grrof,” he repeats.

“Yeah, I get it … wolf. A wolf did this?” I point to the shirt. He nods again. “A wolf hurt my brother,” I whisper, grabbing the shirt from him.

When I look up again, the stranger has my brother’s sneakers in his hands … only the tops are shredded apart at the seams.

“Grrof,” he repeats again.

This makes no sense … why would someone shred his shoes from the inside out? Something catches my eye on the windowsill. I approach, picking it out of the open window. A tuft of brown hair. The same color as Colton’s hair, only thicker, shorter.

The stranger sniffs the hair between my fingers, his eyes lock with mine. “Grrof.” He holds my gaze as understanding washes over me.

“Wolf, my brotheris a wolf... like you?”

“Grrof,” he nods and takes a step back while I process. My brother was a wolf. That would explain the insatiable hunger, fits of rage, the late-night activities. He was trying to tell me. But I was so insistent on him going to college. I was so set on sticking with the plan. It turns out I didn’t know my brother at all. My knees buckle and I crumple to the floor, tears streaming down my face with Colton’s shirt, shoes, and a lock of his hair still in my hands.

The stranger watches me for a few seconds before dropping to his knees in front of me. He pulls me into his arms. I let the tears fall.

* * *

I cried until I couldn’t cry anymore. The stranger’s warm, strong arms remained around me the entire time. How long have I been sitting here crying on this poor man’s shoulder? I sniffle and pull back. He slowly releases me and cups my face with his hands. His gaze is concerned as he watches me. He wipes away the last of my tears with his thumbs. This man has held me for hours (still naked), and I don’t even know his name.

I point to my chest, “I’m Autumn.” I point harder. “Autumn.”

Then I point to him, the unspoken question in my eyes.

He looks confused for a second before nodding and pointing at me. “Grtum.”

“Awe-tum,” I enunciate, opening my mouth wide for the A.

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