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World of Darkness: Attrition - A New Way [Complete]


z-August Turner

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August 27, 2011

Enough was enough. August was lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling. She had been assessing her life for the last few weeks, and she’d come to one inescapable conclusion: she couldn’t take care of herself. She’d always thought of herself as a survivor. She had survived things that would make others crumble. But honestly, instead of surviving stuff, why didn’t she try to stop it?

It was a new concept for her. But it had a certain allure to it.

Of course, the question was how. August was pretty sure that she didn’t want to learn this the hard way, by picking fights until she was proficient enough to win them. And learning cost lessons. She’d had free self-defense classes provided by the UCLA cops, but having done that once didn’t infer the ability to kick ass. No, she needed something more, especially since the weirdness that was her life wasn’t slowing down.

So where could she get some tips on self defense that wouldn’t actually cost any money? August thought about it for a moment, then rolled over onto her stomach. Her fingers dug into her purse, fishing out her phone. Once she had recovered it from the purse-ian depths, she selected a number and hit talk. “Hey, Dec,” she said in greeting at the hello. “Whatcha doin’ tonight?” Her voice was hopeful, but also a bit shy. She didn’t know if he’d be interested in this; the only way to know was to ask, and she didn’t really what his reaction would be. The uncertainty left her feeling a bit vulnerable and it was clear in her tone.

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"Oh, just hangin' out." Dec answered casually.

He had been, in fact, contemplating patrolling his range with a little more vigilance than usual tonight. Last night he'd caught a leech's spoor on the western side of the campus. Not for the first time, either. Three night before that, he'd caught the same scent in a different area. The implication was clear.

Some bloodsucking, soon-to-be-dust motherfucker was probing.

It wasn't Sarah, he knew her scent now. It wasn't the weird-ass professor leech either. So that meant someone who didn't know the rules, or knew them but didn't give a shit. Dec intended to catch the son of a bitch and educate them. And when he taught a lesson, it usually didn't need repeating. Not that the student was usually capable of learning it twice: vampires might rise from the grave, but they had huge trouble rising from the incinerator.

Only now there was August on the phone, her voice a mix of hopeful and uncertain. And asking him what he was doing tonight. Whoo.

"Why? Whatcha up to?" he asked as he plopped onto a beanbag. "Anything fun going on at Casa del Chica?"

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"Well, that depends on you," August said honestly, biting at her lower lip.

"Oh?" That one word was a heated growl and polite inquiry all at once. August felt a flush warm her face as she realized that he might be heading the wrong direction with this. Not that it was necessarily the wrong direction. But all she had to do was remember silver eyes in a furred face to remember why she'd made no attempt to go that direction with him. There were questions there that needed answering, questions that she had no answer to yet. Worse, she wasn't sure she wanted the answer that she knew was probably true.

"Yeah," she said, her voice a touch breathy. "I really haven't done this before, but I was wondering... can you teach me to fight?"

"I'd lo- What?" Clearly, he'd anticipated another question.

"Look, the last few weeks, I've been attacked more times than I care to think about," August said. "And I can't help but feel that if I'd had more than two hours of self-defense, then I'd have been able to help myself. Not that I'm not grateful for all the defenders who have popped up," she added with a smile that he could hear over the line. "But I'd really like to stop ending up tied to crypts and accosted in the grocery store." She licked her lips and said, "I can't pay you for your time, yet. Maybe I could do a favor for you or something. Or give you something after school started. I don't want to just impose on you. I just know that I really need to change the way things have been going."

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"Grocery store?!" Dec thought and, as usual, said at the same time. August winced slightly - she hadn't quite meant to tell him like that. But of more immediate concern to her was the low growl that entered his voice. "What happened- No, wait." There was the sound of someone taking a deep breath and calming down. "Okay, I'll be wanting to hear that story properly, you know that, right?"

"Yeah." August said meekly. "Um, I meant to tell you, but..." But I was afraid you'd turn into a wolf (no, not possible) and go and hunt him down and he'd die because of me and haunt me.

"No problem." Dec said, showing a remarkable amount of decorum, in his view anyway. August wasn't his girl or anything, but she was his friend. And as has been mentioned elsewhere, Declan took friendship only slightly more seriously than he took his ground rule of Being, which was 'If you poke me you pull back a stump, fuckface'. "So, you want to learn to fight... to defend yourself?"

"Yes." August replied, hopeful now. It sounded like he was considering it, in the slow thoughtful way he had sometimes.

"Just so long as you know I ain't looking for a sidekick." the grin was audible in his tone. August giggled slightly.

"Aww, c'mon, Dec. I could be 'Snakey'." she said in a teasing tone, and was rewarded with one of his rare laughs.

"Alright."

"Alright?" August bounced up on her bed.

"Alright. I'll teach you to look after yourself. As best I can, anyway. I'm no Bruce Lee." he told her wryly. "But I know a few things that you definitely could use."

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“Awesome!” There was true delight in her voice as she began to gather up her things. “And I’m really not worried about you being Jason Statham or anything. Just teach me some basics so I can get past this damsel in distress schtick.”

“I dunno about it being a schtick,” Declan drawled easily, “but it sure is becoming a bad habit.”

“Ha ha,” August stated with mock-irritation, but she was grinning as she pulled her Keds on without socks. “Is it okay if we start now?” she asked belatedly.

“Sounds like you’re halfway out the door,” Dec told her with a grin. “Yeah, come on over.”

“I’ll be there in two shakes,” August grinned.

It was actually fifteen minutes before the Vargr heard a knock on his door. He hadn't heard a car pull up, which meant that the girl had walked. While it was plenty close, it sat poorly with him, given her recent history. In truth, it had been rough for August too, jumping at shadows and walking quickly with her eyes peeled. When Dec opened his door, August stood before him in a t-shirt and tan jean shorts with an oversized bag hanging on her shoulder. “Hi,” she bubbled looking honestly as excited as he’d seen her in a while. She shoved her sunglasses up on top of her head and said, “So… how are we doing this?”

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"Got some gym gear?" Dec asked her with a straightforward up-and-down look as he took in what she was wearing. August felt parts of her shiver at the plain evaluation, and it wasn't all pleasant, either. She'd heard (several times) about when Crazy Perault had made a football player pee himself with a look. The story was funny, ridiculous really... Until you found yourself under those eyes and they were intent on something more serious than flirting. She had a crazily overwhelming impulse to draw herself up and salute. Drill sergeant Dec she thought with a smile.

"Right here." she patted the bag. "I figured I'd need it."

"You figured right." he said with a grin that had entirely too many teeth on show. August gulped, but the smile did reach his eyes, and although there was mock-menace in his expression it was good-humored.

"We're not doing P.T, right?" she asked with a sinking feeling. Dec chuckled as he waved her on inside.

"That'll be part of it, yeah." he said, shutting the door. As usual, the interior of his house was much darker than outside, and August had to blink a few times to let her eyes adjust. Thick drapes let only some light in, enough to see a little more than shapes in the gloom unless you were sitting in the rays. If it wasn't so sparsely furnished, it'd be dangerous to navigate in. Though not for him. This is his den- No! Don't think about that. The windows were open beyond the drapes, stirring them slightly with the breeze, and the place didn't smell musty or like stale socks (and worse) like many bachelor pads she'd encountered. Declan brushed his shoulder against hers as he led her across the room, pausing to open one of the drapes a bit wider as an afterthought.

"Really?" she asked. Something of what she felt must have come through in August's tone, because the big man sighed and turned towards her, his savagely handsome features patient.

"Yeah, really. Look, August, it's plain that just having some lessons in punching and kneeing the groin ain't gonna cut it. Those are fine for telling a pushy trust fund baby to go fondle someone else, but a real attacker is going to hold all the cards. He, and most of the time it will be a he, is gonna be bigger and stronger than you. The only area you can compete is conditioning." he leaned back against the wall next to the massive workout bag and folded his arms. "Why do you think they have soldiers running all the time?"

"For fitness." August shot back, a little irritated and knowing, as soon as she made the fast answer, that she should have thought it through more.

"Partly, yeah. But that fitness has combat application. First thing I learned in Basic is that the infantryman who can't run further and faster than his enemy, whether retreating or pursuing, is dead. You asked me to help you survive, and part of that is going to be running further and faster than the fucker who tried to jump you. Another part will be awareness. I dunno what it is with you, but yer a nut-magnet, girl." He smiled at her, and August couldn't help but smile back. "So we're going to talk about your focus, about situational awareness, and all that fun stuff. Now, if a guy grabs you, your first instinct should not be to whup his ass like a ninja, but to give him something painful to think about so that you can get a head start or, if you think running's impractical, to grab something heavy to beat him down with." August blinked at that mental image, and grinned. Dec winked back. "So, lecture over. Bathroom's yonder, and hidden-camera free. Go get changed and we'll get some daily-dozen warmups done."

"You were a drill sergeant, weren't you?" August half-grumped at him as she shouldered her bag and made for the door he'd indicated.

"I was aiming to be one, one day. Got my PTI qualification though, lucky you. Don't worry, I won't run your fine legs all the way down to stumps."

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Dec's compliment made her flush a little, but it couldn't bring a smile to her face. August was frowning as she went into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind her. Here, the trend of sparsely furnished continued with male grooming products both spare and Spartan. Feeling uneasy and nervous, August stripped out of her clothing and pulled on the jogging shorts and fitted exercise top. It was one of the new ones, designed to be a shirt, sweat-wick and bra all in one. She started to put on her socks, then stopped. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to wear shoes or not - didn't karate classes go barefoot?

Shrugging, she decided to put them on anyway. Dec would tell her to take them off, if that was necessary. She lowered the lid - wondering when was the last time that had happened - and sat down to tug on her footware. As she tied her laces, she reflected on the fact that she'd really wanted this, but now she wasn't so sure. Dec was starting to make it sound like a lot of work - maybe more than she could do. Then she thought of that man in the store and her resolve hardened. She was tired of getting manhandled and assaulted. She had to change things.

August stepped out of the bathroom still winding a holder around her hair. "Alright," she said, trying to sound like she wasn't dreading what was to come. "Private Turner, ready for duty!" she snapped, giving Dec a sharp salute.

"Keep that up," Dec told her with a grin, "and we'll have a discussion 'bout you bein' out of uniform."

August giggled. "Alright," she agreed easily. "I just feel a bit like I'm headed into boot camp."

"It won't be like that," the Vargr assured her. He paused a beat and added, "Not much anyway. C'mon, stretches first. Touch your toes."

August doubled over, doing so easily. The movement brought back her yoga sessions, one of the few ways she exercised. Dr. Hillinger had insisted that she continue her yoga. Her fingers brushed her shoes without effort. August glanced up to see Dec mirroring her; it made her feel a little better to know she wasn't doing this alone. "And up," he said, his voice brisk. It was a little jarring; August was used to the soothing voices of her yoga DVDs. "Down, to the right." August reached for her right leg, the fingers of her right hand wrapping around her ankle as the fingers of the other hand rested on the top of her shoe. Back and forth they went, stretching and limbering up. August sighed, enjoying it a little. What was going to happen wasn't going to be that enjoyable.

"Jumpin' Jacks," Dec ordered, as they finishing stretching.

"Crap," August sighed, even as she pressed her hands to her hips and started.

"Not. So. Bad," Dec said at the apex of each jump. He made each motion look smooth and easy, his muscles bunching and moving seamlessly. August had to admit that her thoughts weren't exactly on self-defense anymore. She tried to focus, but she was facing him and he was damned distracting.

"Speak. For. Your. Self," August replied, also at the apex of each jump. But where Dec said each word as easily as speaking, each of her words were punctuated by a gasp for her rapidly dwindling supply of air. When her 'drill sergeant' finally let them stop, she was panting heavily.

"You needed this more than I thought," Dec said. His words were blunt but his tone wasn't unkind.

"Shad. Up," August wheezed. She really hated that he was right.

"We're just getting started. Push ups," Dec ordered.

August groaned. "This is a. Nightmare," she growled, even as she put herself on the floor. This time, he didn't follow; instead, he stalked around her. "Not joining me?" she asked.

"I will when I'm sure you're doin' it right," Dec said. "Lotsa people don't do 'em right." He watched her, counting, "One." Then he shook his head. "Straighten your back and legs. Put your arms further back." Once he was satisfied, he did join her in the exercise.

What followed was torture for the young woman. She wasn't used to this at all, and by the time that Declan finally seemed to run out of exercises, she wasn't sure her body would support her anymore. Sure, she could get that she needed the physical conditioning, but she didn't think she could make a fist, much less punch someone. She was sweating like a pig and just stared at Dec, half-hoping her heart would give out and let her stop.

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"Good start." Declan said as he headed for the kitchen, barely breathing hard. "Take five and come with me." He was aware of August's near-silent groan as she came after him, just as he could hear the faint squeak of her sneakers on the floor and smell the rich, clean scent of her sweat. Shoulda done this outdoors he thought belatedly. Now I'm going to be thinking about her all sweaty every time I'm in this room for the next three weeks. Well, there's worse smells...

"A start?" August said between breaths. "I feel like I'm going to drop." She glared at his back, noting the faint sheen of sweat that was the only testament he'd even been working out. He was wearing a white tank-top and running shorts, and she found her gaze following the contours of his shoulders and back down to his ass.It didn't make her feel much better, strangely. That's how she knew she was tired. Dec glanced back over one shoulder and grinned at her as he opened the fridge.

"You won't drop. Here." he passed her a bottle of Gatorade, which August gratefully opened and drank from. "Not too much." he admonished, closing the fridge and ushering her back through to the lounge. "Just sip it while we work. That feeling, the exhaustion, the sense that your heart's gonna pound out of your chest? That's normal. You got through it, and I wasn't giving you no soft 'girls' workout either." August looked at him quizzically, frozen mid-sip as he grinned at her. "You just went through the first daily dozen I did on my first day of Basic."

"Shit." August said as she lowered the bottle and stared at him. Surprise warred with irritation at his confession: she hadn't signed up to the fucking Army! She'd only been joking about boot camp! She couldn't be expected to do... Wait. She had. She'd done it, and by Declan's own admission he'd felt pretty much the same as she did right now. Slowly, a smile spread over her pretty face and she nodded. "Okay... So what's next? That was pretty brutal, by the way. Don't think I'm not going to figure out payback, buster." she jabbed a finger at him, to be rewarded with another smirk.

"You gotta catch me first, frail. I'm safe for awhile yet." he chuckled. "Okay, next we're going to see how much you know about the basics. Punching, that sort of shit. Once we establish whether or not you can slug someone as hard as can be without breaking your wrist, we'll move on. Oh, and we're going to finish with a little run, then some stretching for the cooldown."

"Wonderful." August sighed, setting the bottle down as Declan waved her over to the bag. Ten minutes of instruction brought back the basics she'd learned from the self-defence course. Lock the wrist, thumb on the outside... all the mantras the instructor had drilled into the class. She thumped on the heavy, sand-filled bag until her knuckles were scraped and aching and her knees felt like she'd fallen over rollerblading. Dec didn't need to correct her much, stepping in only once to show her how to put more of her whole body into the blow. August was gratified, despite her skinned knuckles, to see the bag swaying by the time Declan called a halt, handing her an icepack for her hands.

"Keep that on while we talk." he suggested. August took it gratefully, hissing slightly as the cold burned, then numbed the pain.

"Shouldn't we wear gloves?" she asked him, narrowing her eyes. Declan shook his head.

"Nope." was all he said. When it became obvious to him that she was expecting more of an answer, he simply cocked his head at her and said "Think about it and get back to me. Now..." he motioned for her to sit on the couch and took a post in his usual beanbag on the floor. "We're going to work on what my old instructor called focus."

"Focus." August said, feeling the couch envelop her like an old friend and relaxing.

"Yeah. Decide what your objective should be, and narrow your focus to that. The more immediate the objective, the tighter the focus should be. If it's several steps ahead, then keep your focus wider so you can see other problems and solutions too. When a guy jumps you, grabs hold of you like most guys do, because you're a girl and he's the big strong man, what's your immediate focus?"

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"Is he cute?" August asked.

Declan raised an eyebrow. "That's your focus?"

"You asked," August said softly, drawing in on herself a little. The answer was the true one, and it made her feel a little shallow.

"That's your first impulse?" Dec clarified what he was looking for a bit. "What's your gut tell you?"

"I assume you mean someone hostile?" August asked, suddenly comprehending what he was asking her. At his nod, August said, "I think 'get the mace' and I yell."

"That's good, if someone can hear you yelling, and you can use the mace effectively," Declan stated.

"And if it works on them." August's tone was annoyed as she interrupted her teacher.

Dec's brows lowered ominously. "Did that happen with someone who jumped you?"

"Yeah, the grocery store guy. I'll tell you about it later," August promised. A moment later her own brow furrowed. "Wait, you sounded funny when you said that. Why?"

Declan shook his head. "There are people who mace doesn't work so well on," he told her quietly. "It's why I'm going to teach you not to rely on it."

"That's fair," August said, thoroughly disgusted. "I can't believe that they advertise that mace will stop anyone when it doesn't."

"Works on most," Declan said, "but most ain't all. So right now, you've trained yourself to go for the mace and hope someone else comes to help you. Time to change that. First, change your focus."

"To what?" August asked, frowning.

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"To helping yourself, rather than hoping someone else will come." he told her. "Because someone else might come, or they might not. But you are still in shit regardless, so the best person to help you is you. That's your broad focus: 'I am gonna save my own damn self'. So. Tools?"

"Tools?" August thought for a moment. The endorphins from the exercise were kicking in, and she wanted to curl up and doze while listening to that voice. She forced herself to think. "Well, I can't count on the Mace. I could carry a tazer but..." her eyes narrowed as she studied Dec's face. "I'm going to say my best tools are the ones I don't need to pull out of a purse."

"Yup." Declan smiled at her. "Your voice is good, keep doing the yelling thing. But change your mental focus - you're not counting on a rescue now. What you're doing is making a shitload of noise to rattle the enemy. Scream in his face and make the fucker flinch. If someone hears, then that's even better. But what you're focusing on doing is gaining the advantage. He'll worry someone will hear, he'll be hasty or even back off. Your other tools are your hands, fingers, knees, head. The targets are his eyes, his groin, his throat... Most people don't go balls out in a fight. There's stuff that has an ick factor, or is considered unfair. Fuck all that. The asshole has grabbed you, and cute or not, he's not playing." Dec smiled again, and August grinned sheepishly. "So he deserves to pull back a stump, right? Right?"

"Right." August nodded, sitting upright a bit more and leaning into what Dec was saying.

"So you rake at his eyes. If he's in your face, you bite. You make him pull his head back in a hurry, or turn aside to stop you grabbing his balls and yanking, because when he's doing that, he's not able to do much about the tazer in your other hand you're about to roast his weiner with. Attack the soft tissue, make him flinch or curl up, then go for the weapon, always. Most guys are stupid, and they won't expect a real fight beyond kicking and screaming. You keep your focus, and they'll regret laying a hand on you."

"So you've zapped him, or smacked him over the head with something heavy. And when he's down, whether he's groaning and cussing or really worryingly quiet... You bail. You get the hell out of there. No 'Are you okay?' No 'Omigod I'll call an ambulance.' Fuck 'em. You're not sorry, because he wanted to hurt you and it's on his head. You get your ass home or to a friend's and then you worry about cops and ambulances. You focus on you, on your survival. It'll be hard, perhaps. You, you're a good person. That guy on the ground? He's a fucking asshole who wanted to do god-knows-what to you and isn't likely to convert just because you show compassion." Declan's eyes blazed softly, a growl entering his voice. "You go for the throat, frail. You put him down and you leave."

August blinked, absorbing the words as well as the look in those eerie eyes. Go for the throat... She shivered a little, remembering a skinny guy with a big knife, blood on cemetary grass. There was an elegant primal ruthlessness about Dec, a simplification of complex moral issues that she wasn't sure about.

Dec calmed slightly on seeing her visible reaction, his slight anger at the thought of his friend being attacked again going back to the simmering stage. She'd maced a guy who'd attacked her, and he hadn't been affected. That meant he was probably a vampire - dead tissue wouldn't suffer from Mace, after all - or else he was similar to Dec: an animal on two legs.

"So tell me about this guy in the grocery store." he suggested, moving to plop onto the couch beside her and appropriating a swig from her bottle of Gatorade.

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August was quiet for a moment, sitting forward on the couch. "He was... scary. I wouldn't have talked to him... Fuck," she sighed. "Look, I gotta start from the beginning I think, so bear with me a bit." She pressed her hands to her hair, smoothing it down with her palms. The motion seemed to calm her and she was steadier when she spoke. "I was shopping when I realized a couple of people were hovering near me. I ignored them for a long time but I finally decided enough was enough. The first one was a guy. He was just staring at me, flat out mouth-gaping. Dark hair and eyes, well-built, looked like he'd been driving for days. And the other was... a ghost."

Declan blinked. It was the first time he'd heard August speak of the supernatural as if it were real. Something had shifted in her, and it was clear in the way she now spoke about the ghost. Hell, it might have been what sparked this shift in her focus. Perhaps the acceptance of the supernatural was helping her come to grips with more than just the supernatural.

"She was... gored, and torn and... I threw up." August winced, looking a little green at the memory. "She had been cut so deeply..." August paused and took a deep breath as she shifted the bag of ice to her other hand. "... there were holes in her skull. Gouges. I don't have any idea what could have done that. She was wearing a wedding dress, and there were chains that wrapped around her neck and... disappeared into the guy's chest, like she was bound to him somehow. And the worst is that she looked like me."

Dec's expression darkened, but August continued. "When I threw up, he hugged me from behind, talking to me. I think he was consoling me. That's when I tried to mace him."

"With him hugging you?" Dec clarified, his eyes going wide with disbelief.

"Yeah... it was dumb. It made sense at the time. Because then I was blinded," August sighed. "Among other things. It didn't seem to bother him, though. So he picked me up, calling me Lilly and carried me to the front, where the manager stopped us. The guy thought we were married. It was creepy and incredibly scary."

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"Fuck." Declan said, with some feeling as he looked at the girl sitting beside him. "So this guy had a ghost tethered to him... like she was hauntin' him, maybe. And she looked like you, and he thought you and him were, well, him and her?" He tilted his head. "That about the shape of it?" August nodded. "Shit. I'd have freaked out too." he said commiseratingly, nudging her with his shoulder.

"Yeah, only then you'd have kicked his ass." August managed a smile, pressing her shoulder back against him. "No one messes with the fearsome Yard Snake." She smiled at Dec's laugh, resisting the urge to just lean against him.

"Well you already know your biggest mistake there, so I'm not goin' to beat you over the head with it." Declan said matter-of-factly. August nodded ruefully, remembering the horrible, choking stinging sensation, and Dec felt a clumsy urge to give comfort. Trouble was, comforting wasn't one of his stronger suits as he saw it. What the hell did you say to a friend who'd been manhandled by a crazy guy (who may not be just a guy) who was being trailed around by the spectre of his gruesomely murdered wife? Even Dr Phil would choke on that one, in Declan's opinion. He started to reach out with one arm to give August a hug, then changed his mind as he thought that might be misinterpreted and instead gave her a gentle pat on the back. "You made it out safe, that's the important thing." Though I might want to find crazysauce-face before he comes back... "So what happened then? The manager came to the rescue?"

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  • 2 weeks later...

"Kinda," August sighed, looking down at her hands. "He was trying to sort things out, but once it got beyond 'he said, she said', he was going to turn it over to the cops. I can't blame him." Well, she could, but she understood his actions, too. One of the rules of any big city: don't get involved. The cousin to that rule: the cops get paid to figure it out, not me.

"While he was calling the cops, the ghost started to talk to me." August bit her lip for a moment. "She told me his name, his first name: Shane. Then she got pissed when he kept trying to call me baby. We both told him to stop, but she kept demanding that I pass on the message for her. That's when... I don't know, Dec. There's been too much weirdness going on, it all kinda built up and that was the last straw. So I did. I used his name and told him."

Dec's eyebrows rose. "So you're finally believing the ghost stuff?" he asked.

August watched his expression for a moment, seeing the mix of worry and concern in his eyes. She thought she knew why; she'd time to think about all that had happened in the last month. If the ghosts were real, then so was some of the other stuff - including a wolf with silver eyes. Somehow, Dec was connected to that wolf. How he was seemed pretty obvious, but that wasn't something August was ready to deal with yet. Dec had started to run after she asked him about the thing at the cemetery but it hadn't been a fear of arrest. He'd been afraid of a different outcome. He was afraid she'd betray him, she thought. "I am," she said softly. "Not completely. I still doubt. But there's been too many things for me to just ignore them. I am not believing every single thing someone tells me, but I am believing more. Trusting myself more. To be honest, there are things out there I don't understand still."

"Ain't that true for everyone?" Dec asked lightly.

"Yeah. But I thought that big wolves were in my head. Then I thought they were guardians. But Lilly said that Shane became a big wolf and killed her on their honeymoon. So I don't know what to think anymore." Green eyes darted to his, confused and seeking some sort of answer.

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He paused for a moment, digesting this. 'Shane' was a werewolf. That pretty much confirmed the suspicions born when August had told him that Mace hadn't worked. Worse yet, he was a crazy werewolf that'd put August in danger with his crazy. But was he a mad Vargr, or a mad Moon-Caller? Vargr tended to be solitary, and August hadn't mentioned any other people yet - well, apart from the dead wife. And how fucked up was that? Dude killed his wife on their honeymoon. What the hell happened there? I mean, I go nuts from time to time, but damn. His WIFE.

Briefly, Declan wondered if he would be capable of killing someone he loved enough to marry. Then he tossed the thought aside. Never happen. I'd rather throw myself out of the Honeymoon Suite window. So the real question is: am I going to go and beat the everloving shit out of another solitary Vargr, or an Uratha who might have a pack backing him?

Riight. Like I give a shit who's backing him. Someone needs to learn that some people in this town are 'claws OFF'. He became aware that August's eyes were still on his, studying the suddenly cold, intent glitter that'd come into the large man's gaze as he considered what she'd told him. There was only one word for it: predatory. With an effort, he smiled at her a little.

"I'd say that wolves can be rabid, can go mad. Just like people." he said carefully. August remembered him crouching by the fence, smiling peacefully as he'd somehow... communed with the scarred female. Then she tried not to think about that, despite the image creeping back again and again as he continued. "Some guard, some hunt, some just look after what's theirs, or a combination of the three. And some get twisted up and need putting down if they can't see reason. And that" he added with a slight grin "Goes double for big wolves. So... What happened when you dropped the Sixth Sense bomb on him?"

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He was going to defend her again. August didn't mind. She wasn't going argue with him rising to her defense when they both suspected the same thing: werewolves. Of course, her mind tried to shy away from that, but August knew the truth. She wasn't ready to ask Declan about it yet, but they both saw it in each other's eyes. They both knew and they knew that each other knew.

"He... grabbed me and threw me in his truck," August sighed. Dec stiffened a little; August could almost see him bristling. "He swore up and down that he wouldn't hurt me. He just 'needed me'." At Dec's narrowed eyes, August snorted and said, "I thought the same. I wouldn't give him my number or address. Honestly, I think he wanted me to be around to be a permanent conduit to his wife."

"How'd she feel about that?"

"Are you kidding?" August sighed. "She's ecstatic about the chance to berate him from beyond the grave. As long as I was around, she was trying to get me to chew him out." She paused then added, "Dec, I know this guy bothers you. I know that you don't like that he's been... bothering me. I get that, but I don't think he's... I mean, he is dangerous. He's also... sad. He did murder his wife, but she won't leave him alone. She's chained to him. I think... I want to release her. She's miserable, he's miserable and crazy on top of his self-loathing and guilt. He's got a ghost chained to his heart, spiritually. It's making him sick. I think that I could help both of them."

Declan stared at her for a moment. "Don't sound safe," he said softly.

"I don't imagine it is," August answered. "And I have no clue how to do it. I just think that it would do some good. If people hadn't done good things for me, I wouldn't be here." She shrugged uneasily. "Eventually, I have to start giving back. If I have this... curse, gift, whatever, then aren't I supposed to use it, instead of fearing it? Being afraid of it has driven me half-insane. Time to try something else."

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A smile curled one corner of Declan's mouth as he regarded her, fresh appraisal in his silvery eyes. She was right, of course. At least from his point of view, running from things you feared only made them stronger and gave you no peace. It had always been his way to turn and go for the throat when something scared him, and hearing August taking a similar stance, seeing the resolution in her face, caused him to nod approvingly.

"Alright." he said softly, holding her eyes with his. "Now yer speaking my language." The low, growling component of his voice and the approval/admiration in his eyes caused a warm tingle to run down August's spine and uncoil into her belly, and her face suddenly felt warm as she realised he was sitting right there, all of a foot away. The same thought evidently occurred to Declan, as he ducked his head slightly and glanced away, breaking the eye-contact before the sparks started a fire. Or something equally distracting to the main topic of conversation, which was Shane the Werewolf, his Dead Wife, and August's breakthrough to try and face what Dec thought of as the Really Real World. The Vargr coughed slightly and stole August's Gatorade for another sip.

"So you wanna go find this loon and try to help him and his ghost. That's cool. It's brave as hell." he said, his voice taking on a gruffer edge as his eyes came back to meet hers. "But I'm coming with you. No arguments. If Shane's that crazy, one wrong word, one false move and he'll go apeshit, and then you'll be havin' pajama parties with his wife, doin' each other's nails and shit. If I'm there, he's gonna have a whole lot more to think about than you."

"Are you sure he won't see you as... well, provocation?" August ventured, not entirely liking the glint that came into Dec's eye at that last statement. Werewolf, he's a werewolf, Shane's a werewolf, the man in the snow was a werewolf. He's a monster, but he's on my side. Is that cool or fucking scary? Both? Don't think about it. Don't think about what werewolves eat, or what happened to that guy's body after the wolf carried him off. This is Dec. Right here.

"So what if he does? Bring his ass on." Declan declared with grim relish. "Guy deserves an asswhupping for what he did. I'll beat the tar outta him and when he's licked his wounds, we can negotiate. That's the way we do things if someone's got his tail a little too high- uh, that is, feels aggressive and shit." If it even occurred to Declan that the other werewolf might beat him, he didn't show any indication of that. He seemed supremely confident as he grinned his wolfish grin at her. Of course, inside he acknowledged that yes, the other wolf might, feasibly, if he got really lucky and Dec had had some bad Thai or something, beat him in a fair fight. But that sort of challenge was what the combative Vargr lived for. Declan Perault had been a decent soldier, was a good gardener, a fair physical trainer, and liked to sketch in his idle moments, which he also wasn't too bad at. But what he was, at heart, was an alpha predator who took no shit, tucked tail for nobody, and tolerated no back-sass from anyone, least of all a crazy-ass wolf who'd scared the shit out of a good friend. "Don't worry, I won't kill him." he said offhandedly. "And I won't try to start a fight, neither. But I'm stickin' by your side if he's anywhere within a block of you. Crazy is one thing, crazy and haunted is another."

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"Honestly, that's a relief," August said quietly. "I'm supposed to meet him September 5th at 2:00 p.m. in Holmby Park. I figured that was open, but we were unlikely to be surrounded by people or to have anyone else nearby if he started to feel threatened. It seemed the best place, but I was a little scared. I'm going to be glad to have you there." She lifted her hand to take his, only to remember that fire that had roiled through her at his approving glance. Instead, she plucked her Gatorade from his hands and took her own sip. Touching her lips to the rim reminded August of their single, heated kiss at the party.

Damnit! she sulked to herself as she drank. A flush was crawling up her cheeks despite her attempts to remain calm. Grow up, this is not flirty-time! This is serious-time!

Clearing her throat and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, August added, "I'm not entirely sure this will work. I've been talking to Madeline - turns out that mediums are fairly limited on what they can do. The ghost wants him dead, as revenge; the best I can do is try to placate her. Maybe you could help with that? He admitted to killing his wife, but didn't know why he'd done it. I don't know if you could help talk to him about it... I mean, if those kinds of rages are something that you..." She paused, biting her lip. "I'm sorry. I'm assuming a lot about what you may or may not know. I don't mean to do that. I am just fumbling around in the dark. I have a lot of good intentions, but I really have no idea what I'm doing. I'm sorry if I offended you."

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Dec was silent for a few moments as August cutely fumbled her way through the apology, a small smile and shake of his head all the assurance she needed that he hadn't taken offence. Rages... Yeah, I get them. Can't say they're of epic wife-killing quality though. Lise said that sometimes we lose control when threatened or offended, but...

"Well, I do know a little somethin' about that sort of thing." he started gingerly, looking sideways at August to communicate that his knowledge was by no means first hand. Or second hand. Or gained in any way from actual werewolves. It was just that he knew a little something. That's all. Nothing more to see there. August nodded, joining Declan in the rather clumsy Polka they were dancing around the elephant in the room. Not wolf, it should be stressed, but elephant.

"Usually, it takes a threat, like a serious one, or else a really bad insult to make a... dude snap like that. Unless it was his, uh, first time." he added, then looked at August's blank face. "Y'know, the first time a... dude... goes from being one thing to another thing. Kinda like all the hormonal changes of puberty condensed into ten seconds and then hotwired into the spine without sayin' "hello" to Mr Brain. First times can be... yeah, they can be rough. It's hard to explain." Because I don't want to freak you out and say 'werewolves have a wolf in them from birth, and the First Change is when it tears its way free and goes on a rampage. It's just a phase, and we all get over it.'

"So if it happened to him on his wedding night..." August said, her eyes widening.

"...he wouldn't be responsible for what he did. Not really. Expectin' him to control that is..." Dec struggled to find the right words. "Like trying to steer a Ferrari doin' 100 with yer feet. While off yer head." Despite his instinctive dislike for the wolf who'd kidnapped and scared August, Declan's face contained a little pity for a moment, before frowning. "That's if it happened that way, which ain't certain. Best not to assume. Might be he's sick in the head, or wired wrong. Hell, for all I know he does a Jekyll and Hyde, his two sides out of whack."

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August's eyes were troubled as she listened to Declan speak. Mostly she was thinking about Shane and his very dangerous tendency to fly off the handle. But she was also thinking about Dec and his knowledge on the matter. Not experience, no sir; knowledge. Just what he knew. "How would we find out about that?"

Dec shrugged. "Observation," he said simply. "There ain't no 'he's crazy' sign that hangs over his head."

"Be handy if there were," August sighed, looking a bit deflated.

There was a long moment of silence. "Well, I do know one thing," Declan said. As August looked at him questioningly, the Vargr grinned and said, "If we're done talking, it's time to run."

August groaned and sank into the couch cushions. "Oh, god, I'd forgotten," she moaned.

"I didn't," the handsome man said with a grin that could best be called sadistic. "Come on!" he said, bouncing to his feet. "Up and at them."

"I don't suppose there's any reprieve I could beg for," August said, her green eyes giving him huge puppy-dog eyes. Brown eyes were better for that, but August was making a great attempt. When she bit her lip in clear trepidation, running was no longer the first thing on the werewolf's mind.

"Nope," he said, marshaling his will. "No mercy. Let's go."

Groaning still, August dragged herself to her feet and took one last gulp of Gatorade. Properly fortified, she followed him outside. "Alright," she said, falling into step beside him. "I have one request. Please don't tell me how far until after we're done."

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"Would I do that?" Declan asked in mock surprise, then flashed August a grin as he broke into a gentle jog. "C'mon. It'll be fun." He said with bright-eyed enthusiasm that had August narrowing her eyes at him. Wisely she bit back the retort and saved her breath, remembering the Phys. Ed. classes in school with less-than fond thoughts. At least he's hotter than the gym coach she grumped to herself as she matched Dec's pace, observing the smooth way he ran with a half-studious, half-envious eye and trying to match that tireless lope.

"Keep the breathing easy, don't tense your arms and fists." he advised as they reached the junction of Cornstock and Hilgard, opposite the theater school building, and crossed the road into the campus grounds. It was a Saturday afternoon, and the campus had a fair number of students out and about on the lawns, studying and taking in the sun as the two jogged past. "Trick is to make each breath loose, rather than tight. Breath down to yer belly. That way you get pacin', and if you need a burst of speed yer not oxygen-starved."

"Right." August said, not feeling too bad yet. This wasn't too hard, really. It was a warm day, and something about running alongside Declan in the late summer sunshine made her feel more vital, more alive. It was hard to think about cold graveyards and chilly-faced ghosts shrieking for vengeance against their murderers. The minutes flew by under her sneakers along with the ground, and she found it harder to keep her breathing easy.

"Okay, we're picking up the pace now." Dec said, grinning at the sudden look of worry in the big green eyes before accelerating. Warmed up already, August didn't have much trouble matching this new pace, but now her calves were starting to feel it - not pain, yet, but the sensation that they were being worked hard. Now her breathing was strained, each inhalation a small struggle. Fortunately, Dec dropped the pace again after a couple of minutes, then brought it up again as they circled a few buildings on the pathways and started heading back, a truncated circuit of the whole campus. August didn't notice, being all too aware of the perspiration turning her hair damp and starting to roll down her face, and the burning of her legs, and the feeling that her heart was going to pound out of her chest and take her lungs with it, but then Declan spoke up again, the bastard's voice hardly changed by the exertion.

"Sprintin' time." he told her as they got back to the theater building. "All the way home, and if I don't think yer runnin' fast enough, then it's more bag work when we get there." He grinned a wolf's grin. "Now run, girl."

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“Fuuuuuuck,” August hissed, already out of breath and laboring to keep her lungs oxygenated. But she believed what Dec had said about bag work, so she started to sprint. Besides, it didn’t seem sporting to just give up and accept the bag work without trying. It didn’t really occur to her that Dec would punish her so long as she tried her best.

Her strides lengthened and each step jarred her all the way up to her skull. Her breath was rasping and out of her lungs, but she persisted, determined to try. When she started to falter, she thought about her father chasing her in the snow. Had she been able to run like this, she wouldn’t have needed the wolf to save her. She was tired of being saved; time to be the savior.

Though she didn’t want to admit it, there was a part of her that felt like she was being chased again. It wasn’t enough to trigger a true fear reaction, but Declan’s heavy tread pacing her, just behind her, was startlingly good motivation. Something about him, about his presence chasing her, made her want to run faster. Had a stranger been chasing her like this, August would have probably died from pure fear.

Despite her resolve, the shapely woman staggered the last few steps to Dec’s door. She sagged against it, panting, while he unlocked it and opened the door. The moment the path was clear, August went straight for the living room floor, collapsing onto her back. With one hand on her stomach and the other over her eyes, she tried to remember how to breathe. She also unconsciously reminded Dec of their first meeting; her pose was reminiscent of the one she’d shown Dec on that bench.

The fresh smell of her sweat rose to tease Dec again. Her face was flushed from the run and her body was pliant and limp. Though he knew it was from the run, it was easy to see her on his bed instead of his carpet, with the bonelessness of her flesh coming from a body wrung out by bliss. The Vargr had the sudden urge to scoop her up and carry her into the shower. He wanted to strip her under a cool stream of water and wash the sweat away with soap and his tongue. He could almost imagine how her freshly-cleaned skin would taste; how the skin would goose-pimple from the chilled water only to smooth away under the warmth of his touch. And then, when she was done, he’d carry her, naked and clean, to his bed and fuck her sweaty again.

“How’d I do?” August asked when she managed to get enough breath to talk. “You puttin’ me on the bag?”

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"No, we're movin' straight to the naked grappling."

Declan didn't say that. But he thought it. Along with a lot of other one-liners attributed to his desire to tear the exhausted girl's clothes off and give her a tongue bath. Seeing as he'd been a Vargr for near on two years now and had learned to control some of his instinctive reactions, he didn't let the growl he felt rumble in his chest be heard, or commit any of the other embarrassing little faux pas that the newly-Changed tended toward when their blood was up... But it was hard. Some girls liked a little growling, nuzzling and nipping from guys... And some didn't. And given that August was a girl that knew his secret, she'd probably be freaked the hell out. She liked wolves, yeah, sure. But probably not enough to fuck one in human shape. Even if she was attracted to him.

So Declan thought cold thoughts and went to crouch by the supine girl, trying not to breathe in the scent of hormones and pheromones carried on her sweat. Though she wasn't feeling it, the endorphins were already starting to do their work on August's body, and pretty soon she'd be feeling loose but good. Right now though, all she felt was like she wanted to die. And there was still more to do. He reached down and poked her shoulder.

"You better get up." he told her. "You need to cool down properly, or you'll be feelin' worse tomorrow."

"Cool down?" August peeked through her fingers at him, and Dec grinned at the green-blue eye as he took gentle hold of the hand she had over her stomach.

"Nothin' big. Just stretching and breathing. Up and at 'em."

"I'm dying here." August grumbled. She was covered in sweat, she felt like she couldn't stand, she probably looked a mess and this sadistic man, who was looking less cute by the moment, was grinning at her discomfort and pulling her inexorably to her feet.

"Dyin' people complain less." Declan said with a straight face, giving August a slow blink in response to the tired glare she shot him. "Now just stretch yer legs like this..." He spent five minutes cajoling her through the cool-down exercises, then let her collapse onto a beanbag. Then he went and fetched a carton of milk, pouring two large glasses and handing one off to August as he came back through and crouched next to her.

"You did good." he said laconically. "If you want to hit the shower once you've got the energy, it's right through there." He jerked a thumb towards the bathroom as he sat on the floor and took a drink. And then, because he wouldn't be him if he didn't: "Lemme know if you want help reaching any spots."

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August took the drink gratefully; her first swallow was heaven, even if she wasn't fond of milk as a beverage. Then Dec offered his shower and his help. August blinked at him, feeling a knot of tension coil in her gut. Even dressed casually in sweats and a t-shirt, the man radiated sexy. Of course, her run and his attitude during it had dampened her desire somewhat. She was also sore and exhausted; the sweat that crusted her body made her hate the feel of her own skin. She felt filthy.

"Dec, you cannot be serious," she sighed, letting her body go limp except for the arm holding her glass. "I am covered in sweat and reek. I've done more exercise today than I've ever done in any single day. I am in workout clothing. I'm not nearly sexy enough for come-ons."

Dec shrugged. "If you say so."

August blinked at him; that wasn't quite the response she'd expected. Usually when a man bothered to talk like that, he'd push on, "No, no, baby, yer hawt! Really!" August took another drink, thinking, before she said, "Well, thank you anyway. I'll be sure to call you if I need some help. Especially with me being so sore and all... I might need help getting to some of those hard-to-reach places." The look in his eyes shifted; like cracking ice under a skater's foot, August sensed a sudden danger. It wasn't the same danger his... knowledge presented; it was the much more familiar danger of sexual tension. The knowledge of his... knowledge made her hesitate, but with him sitting next to her, that fact didn't seem terribly important or even all that truthful. In a softer voice, one that was warm and inviting, she added, "My back's always been a reach for me, even when some sadist hasn't run me into the ground. Maybe I do need a shower partner."

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Now it was his turn to be surprised. Not really surprised, perhaps - Dec might not have been Sherlock Holmes, but he was good at feeling out people's reactions to him and knew the effect he had on August. But he was surprised that August wasn't simply flirting right now. Her voice and the look in her green-blue eyes made it plain that she would, as a matter of fact, welcome his company in the shower. And maybe more than the shower. And she knew about him. Well, maybe not all of it, but she knew enough about Declan that she should have been running for the hills... or raiding Lucien's silverware to melt down into bullets.

Okay, so there was the whole 'saved her life' thing too. She was a little scared of him, but her reaction when he'd been about to flee Los Angeles said that whatever else she felt, she liked him too. Strangely, this complicated matters for the Vargr. He really wanted to sleep with August. She was hot in a well-shaped way rather than an anorexic Cali-girl style, and he bet she'd be dynamite in the sack. He didn't do non-casual sex, mainly for his own protection from the inevitable questions that would arise in a relationship. It was the reason that, two years ago, he'd driven his last long-term girlfriend away by generally being a disagreeable, mean, and surly shitheel when she'd come to visit him in the V.A. He'd hated himself at the time, even though he was doing it for the good of both of them. But August knew about his secret, and it didn't seem to bother her, and that meant...

Fuck all, really. So she knew he was a werewolf. Big deal. She didn't know about the nahual, or the Regencies. She didn't know he'd eaten men, or that he hunted down vampires and other night-folk who found a campus full of students to be a really tasty buffet. What did she really know about him? And what would she do when/if she found out? How much should he tell her? She already saw ghosts and spoke to werewolves, and though she appeared to be bearing the strain well Dec had to worry about how far that could go.

On the other hand, he really, really wanted to sleep with August.

For August it wasn't so complicated. Declan was large, tough, hot, and almost overpoweringly Male. More than that, he spoke to wolves and could turn into one which, if you disregarded the cut off scream of a would-be sacrificer as massive jaws clamped on his head with a sound like a large egg being crushed, was pretty cool. She wasn't sure how she felt about a relationship: Declan probably wasn't anyone's definition of Mr Right. But he would make an excellent Mr Right-Now. There was something compellingly primal about him, even sitting relaxed on the floor it was undeniable. That wildness called to some deep part of her, the part that lay deep down in most civilised human beings - the old urge to run in the rain, to wander through the dark woods, to climb a tree, to touch the untamed. In short, to walk on the wild side. And whatever happened after... happened.

"I... uh... dunno if that'd be such a good idea." Declan said slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. The lambent heat in that gaze caused prickles of heat to race over her skin, and the sudden drop of his voice to a husky rumble caused parts of her to melt. "It might complicate... y'know. Stuff." Okay, so it wasn't terribly eloquent, but Dec was trying to think with two brains right now, and August smelled really fucking good, mouthwatering in a non-edible way. He leaned towards her slightly, an unconscious motion. "I don't want my friend to do somethin' if she might regret it, is all I'm sayin'." he managed to get out. "And..." And what? I want to make her scream like an overexcited monkey at a rock concert? I want to sleep with a girl who knows me for what I am so badly I can taste it? I want that acceptance of me like some fuckin' validation? Some big bad wolf. Riiiight...

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Dec's words were like cold water to August's brain, because she didn't know why he was saying them. It occurred to her suddenly that there were all kinds of cultural or physical things that might interfere with them having any kind of relationship, no matter how intense or casual. There were a million things she could come to regret and the image of Lilly flashed into her mind. Would she end up like that if she tangled up their friendship with sex?

She'd done that before and always regretted it. That was with normal boys, with all their issues. Of course, before Nigel, that had involved boys who had treated her like her father had treated her. Nigel had been the first man she'd dated, the first adult to treat her like a person. And that had not turned out so well. And here was another man, one who had danced around the fact that he was basically the same type of man as Shane. Declan had the potential to be far worse than her father had been - or at least more vicious. She had a brief flash to that truncated scream as a perfect reminder of what her fate could be. And while that's better than Mother's fate in some ways, August mused, it still isn't something I should seek out.

August just didn't know. The yawning chasm of the unknown stretched before her, leaving questions in her mind that she couldn't begin to answer. Thus far their friendship had played out like a human one. But what would change if they took things further? What if his condition was a sexually transmitted one? Could August handle being furry? What if he had to have sex in his wolf form? Though she liked wolves, she didn't like them like that. There were too many questions, and even if she had the answers, August wasn't sure how she'd answer them for herself.

"Alright," August said softly, holding Declan's gaze. "You know more about this than I do; you know a lot better than me where to draw the line. If you say I should be careful, I'll listen." She rose, a little surprised at how easy it was to move after her torture. There was regret in her expression and a flicker of consternation in his. "I'll go shower, then."

She hoped that she didn't end up regretting this.

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"You be careful?" Declan looked surprised, then concerned, then like a lightbulb had gone off over his head. "Wait, you think that I... That is... That I was warning you? That I might 'Change' on you like whats-his-face?" His surprise gave way to chuckling as he stood next to her. "Oh, that's funny."

"What's so funny?" August demanded, resisting the urge to narrow her eyes at him. Dec was smiling, shaking his head.

"Well shit, just about everything." he replied. "I wasn't warnin' you about bumpin' uglies because I was afraid I'd lose control and injure you. All I'm worried about is you doin' something you'll regret... As in, the way women who sleep with a friend usually regret it afterwards. Plus there's... well, there's the complications. Like... are you really sure you want to sleep with a guy who's... like me."

August just stared at him.

"Look." Dec rubbed the back of his neck, plainly a little uncomfortable with the way the topic had gone. "Since my change... well, I've had some partners. And they've been casual." He flicked a glance up at her, trying to gauge her expression. "Always casual. Because... well, I growl a bit. And other stuff. If I'm into it. And that's probably waaay more info than you needed, so I'll skip to the chase." He took a deep breath and started to pace slightly, turning to and fro as she watched, his words coming now in an unaccustomed flood. "Thing is, I can't guard my every reaction around someone I spend a lot of time with. Friends or girlfriends - haven't really had either for the last two years. People I work with don't know shit about me, really. But a guy's got urges, especially this guy. So I keep it casual, and anonymous as possible. I go to bars, or clubs, or the gym, or the beach. I have a few drinks, or hang out and try to feel like I'm part of the gathering there. But I'm not. I'm not part of any gathering." His voice was low and pensive as he paced, and those silver eyes weren't looking at her anymore, which was a clear sign of agitation.

"I don't bring anyone here. I don't tell anyone what I am. I'm 'Dec' to the regulars at the bar, or the gym, or at work. Just 'Dec'. "Hey Dec, how was yer weekend?" "Peachy." "Cool." And they only ever asked that much to be polite. And that suits me fine." He glanced at her as he turned, then sighed with a peculiar whuff-ing noise and continued. "And then some cutie gets it in her head to film me, and I want to say 'Fuck off', but I don't. Mainly because she's hot, but also because I like what she does with a pair of shears." He flashed a grin at her, a rippling expression that was gone as soon as it appeared. He resumed pacing. "She's got some brass. And so I ask her out for a drink, but it doesn't go as normal because she sees ghosts and doesn't sleep or eat right. And I start to do the most stupid thing a Var- a guy like me can do, and let myself care. So we start to be friends, and she invites me to a cool party with some cool people there, and for once I don't feel apart. And then I rescue the girl from a nutjob, letting her know my damn secret over the phone because I don't want her to think she's crazy." He was growling a little now, mild frustration coming out in his voice.

"And that wouldn't have mattered if I'd skipped town. I'd be gone. But no, cutie comes down here and hugs me into stayin'. And I realise I've got an honest-to-goddamn-goodness friend. Who also happens to be someone whose back I'd scrub in a heartbeat." He stopped pacing and locked eyes with her. "But she's got a lot on her plate right now. She's meeting a psycho to try and cure him of being haunted by his dead wife. And I dunno if I want to go from 'friends' to the next stage. I mean, wild sex is one thing, but wild sex with a friend could lead to messing up the friendship, right?"

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August listened to the long – for Dec – speech. His words rang with sincerity – though they were well past the point where August would suspect Dec of lying to her anymore. When he was done, she looked a little shell shocked. “I’m sorry,” she said simply.

“Don’t apologize about that. It’s not your fault,” Dec told her, turning on her.

“No, no… I was apologizing that we… humans are so narrow-minded that you had to live on the edges of the world just to survive. That you couldn’t really make friends with anyone until some crazy film-student wouldn’t leave you alone,” August said, her green eyes wide and expressive with her emotions. “I’ve never made friends easily, because I had a funny name and I’d been crazy until I was twelve and I was terrified that people would find out my mom was in the funny farm. All of my friends were as messed up as me, and they were abusive, too.”

Dec’s eyebrows lowered and August said, “I’m not trying to compare war wounds. All I’m trying to say is that I get it and I’m sorry you had to go through that still. It’s kinda… frightening that I’m the first person to become your friend.

“And speaking of friends… yes, I’ve heard that dating or sleeping with a friend can hurt the friendship,” August said. “I’ve not had someone start as a friend and become more; most guys wanted to date me instead of be my friend in highschool. And in college, my only serious relationship, that was more than dating, was with one of my teachers.”

Dec’s eyes widened. “A professor at UCLA?”

“Yeah,” August sighed. “He was the guy who taught me that guys wouldn’t treat me like my dad treated my mom. But I wasn’t a friend with him before. I’ve never done that with a guy who was my friend, sex or dating. So I don’t know.

“I think you’re sexy. I feel safe around you, usually. But I don’t know if we’d work as anything more than friends, and I’m… Damn it!” August stopped, looking frustrated. “I don’t even know if you want the next stage to be sweaty monkey sex or a relationship, or if we’d work that way. There’s a lot… stuff I just don’t have an answer for. Stuff about what you are, what I’m learning I am… But I am glad you’re my friend.” She took his hand in a very friendly way, even though the meeting of their bare skin made her hand tingle. “Very glad. So if we wanna leave it at friends, I’m good.”

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"Me too." Declan said, resisting the urge to say something dumb about 'benefits'. "We might need to review that from time to time, though." he quipped instead, drawing a smile from August and a faint blush despite the challenge in her green eyes.

"Every three months?" she asked with a playful grin. "We can sit down and pull out the paperwork, go over the accounting." Dec made a 'pssh' sound and shooed her towards the shower.

"Dunno how often you'll be thinkin' about it, but it'll be a damn sight more often for me, frail. Now go clean up before I decide you're so frisky you need another run." he growled. August's eyes went wide in partly-real concern - from what she knew of Dec, he might be only half-bluffing. She turned so fast there was a breeze.

"Sadist." she shot over her shoulder as she headed for the bathroom at speed.

"That's me." he sent back as he watched her go. As the door shut he stifled a groan and dropped onto the beanbag she'd been sitting on. Her scent clung to it, hung in the air of the room. He'd been telling the truth - he'd never brought any women home to sleep over. In fact, he'd never had anyone, men or women in his house - his den - since moving in. That was because people left scents behind them, making the place less his. Territorial instinct or not, Declan didn't like that idea. But now August's scent was everywhere, and while he didn't mind, it was fucking distracting. Female pheromones, female endorphins and adrenaline, and August's own scent, as unique to someone with Declan's nose as her appearance was to human eyes. It was a good scent, too, though to be fair most females smelled good unless they were sick or drugged. Somehow, though, the fact that August was a friend, a familiar female, made the scent... bearable to have around. Maybe even comforting. Though there was nothing comforting, as such, about some of the sensations it caused.

"Gonna need to turn the shower to cold." he muttered to himself as he heard the shower start up, heard the change in the tone of the falling water as a body stepped into the spray. He tried not to think about that body, or the legs, or the black hair plastered to the pale skin... He could have been in there, 'scrubbing her back'.

"You are such a fuckin' dumbass." Declan Perault told himself with a groan, folding an arm over his eyes as he collapsed back onto the beanbag again. Sometimes he really wanted to punch himself. Hard.

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Wow, so you are already regretting that, August noted to herself as she showered. But she also didn't regret it. Yeah, it had been a while for her, all spring and summer, since her last leap into the sack with a guy she'd been dating. As usual, the relationship hadn't lasted beyond the discussions of family pasts. He'd found a reason to bail and August had been sure enough he'd go that his departure hadn't even bothered her that much. But her body was certainly interested in Dec and all that his body had to offer.

There were just too many unanswered questions to jump into this blindly. August sighed as she stripped and went digging for her toiletries. They weren't in her bag, and August rolled her eyes at herself as she remembered setting them on the bed next to her bag. "Well done," she grumbled. She'd use Dec's and begged forgiveness if he was mad or something. She didn't think he would get upset, but maybe he would be territorial about his shampoo. Though if it's flea and tick or says it will make your coat shiny, I'll just forgo washing my hair.

Annoyed and horny, she started the shower, letting the water cascade over her body. She washed quickly, not wanting to waste his water. At home, Oneca's parents paid for the utilities, so it was free to the residents and August tended to let her showers reflect that. Besides, Dec was waiting on her.

Less than fifteen minutes later, August emerged, rubbing a towel through her hair. "Your turn," she said softly, grinning at him. She was in clean clothing too, shorts and tank top. "Actually, do you want me to go... I can stay and hang out, if you want. Watch movies or something."

"Sounds like fun," Declan said, giving her one of his grins.

"Alright, then it is your turn," August said, dropping onto the beanbag next to him and pushing him playfully, "and I claim his beanbag. Go on, you! Go and be clean!"

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When she dropped onto the beanbag, he smelled his soap and shampoo on her - the minty, woodland-smelling stuff that was all he could tolerate since his Change without wanting to sneeze. It smelled good on him, and (he discovered) on August too. She smelled of clean skin and warm outdoors, damp hair and mild arousal. Huffing with mock-annoyance at her pushing, he rolled off the beanbag and to his feet in one graceful motion.

"Alright, alright. I'm going. But I'm gonna want that beanbag back." he narrowed his eyes and pointed, before grinning slightly. August folded her arms under her breasts, incidentally giving Declan a great eyeful from his height, and pouted up at him.

"I'm not gonna move!" she said, imitating him right down to the gruff tone, though without the bass notes. Then she smiled. "We'll just have to share it." She was rewarded by seeing the pupils in the middle of those silver eyes dilate and his smile flicker, and repressed a laugh as he turned and headed for the shower at speed.

Watch some movies or 'something'. I'll pick something, please. Lots of something. Declan thought to himself furiously as he turned the shower on cold and stripped off, dumping the clothes in the hamper before jumping under the stream of icy water without more than a faint hiss of complaint. So, do I jerk to take off the edge, or keep the edge? What does she want? What do I want? Am I fucking insane? Ahhhh cold water.... He let it run over him, the spray making his skin tingle and numb slightly, cooling his jets somewhat before he turned the heat on the shower back up to normal. He soaped, shampooed and rinsed quickly and thoroughly before turning off the shower and towelling off briskly. Then he reached for his clean... clothes... Shit.

He wasn't used to guests in his lounge. He was used to wandering around naked after a shower, stepping out of the bathroom to the adjoining bedroom through the lounge, which currently had an August in it. Fuck it. Towel around the waist and make it snappy. She's probably looking at the tv anyway.

"Say, what sort of movie do you pref-?" The door opened while August was channel-surfing on Declan's modest tv, and it was just plain bad luck that she decided to talk to him as he came out of the bathroom, her eyes turning his way and catching him mid-sneak with a towel round his waist. Okay, so she'd seen Declan's top half before, but not when he'd been fresh out of the shower and wearing only a white towel...

"Uh, I forgot to take clean stuff in with me." he said into the silence, silver eyes meeting blue-green as he pointed at the bedroom door. "I'll be right out."

"Sure." August replied, watching him as he slipped into the bedroom. "I was going to ask what sort of movies you like." she called to break the silence.

"Pretty much anything that's not a chick flick." came the response, moments before Declan came back out of his room in shorts and a t-shirt, raking his hands through his wet hair as he headed over to the tv area. He paused for a fraction of a second as he looked at August on the bean bag, then he smiled and dropped onto it next to her. "Lemme know if you get hungry." he said as he jerked a thumb at the phone on the low table. "We can order out."

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Mother.

Of.

God.

That was the only reaction that August could have to the sight of Declan in a white towel. She’d seen him without a shirt before, but this was different. Knowing that he was naked under that towel made August’s hormones sit up and beg. She managed to utter one word – “Sure” – before he was out of sight, in the bedroom. I don’t think he closed the door. Did he close the door? Don’t look. Just ignore it.

When Dec came back, clothed, and smelling good, August tried not to smile too widely. It was hard not to; he was definitely yummy-looking. When he settled on the beanbag next to her, August wanted to roll over and toss a leg over him. “Well,” she said thoughtfully, “I like The Transporter if that’s an okay movie. I don’t want take-out right now, but do you have popcorn?”

“Yep,” Dec answered, starting to roll to his feet.

“No, you stay, I’ll get it,” August offered, catching his arm. “Your movie, your popcorn – I can pop it in the microwave.”

“Not gonna argue,” Dec told her with a grin, relaxing into the beanbag again. He waited until she was on her feet before adding, “So much for not giving up the bag.” August shot him an annoyed look as she sauntered into the kitchen; as she passed through the door, she could hear him shifting around on the seat, no doubt claiming all of it.

August popped the corn and found a bowl; when she returned, she found that Dec had indeed claimed the whole bag, grinning up at her insolently. The TV was on and the movie prepped, so Dec hadn’t just been waiting for her. “Make room,” the girl ordered.

“Or what?” the Vargr asked.

August turned and sat down, depositing herself on his lap. Settling the bowl on her legs, she said, “Or I take a seat anyway.” The green-eyed girl popped a kernel of fluffy goodness into her mouth, savoring the artificial butter-flavored taste. “So you gonna make room for me or am I going to have to turn you into my beanbag?”

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Suddenly struck with a terrible urge to lean forward and press his open mouth against the fragrant skin of August's shoulder, Declan wrestled with his animal side for a few moments as he clicked the movie on. It wasn't a desire to attack, but a completely different set of instincts that had him wanting to grip the girl with his teeth and growl softly in her ear, and these instincts weren't helped by August's rear wriggling slightly against him as she got comfortable. Mentally, he groaned and counted to ten. August probably wouldn't find being playfully bitten and growled at sexy at all. Certainly the last girl he'd done that to had kicked him out the door almost before you could say 'Hey, it was an accident!'. That had been over a year ago, and his first sexual encounter since his Change. Okay, so he'd scraped the skin some and drawn a pinprick's worth of blood, which didn't help, but the woman had freaked the fuck out and threatened to call the cops. Horny or not, she hadn't needed to tell Dec twice.

That memory was good for cooling the blood, especially when he mentally added up that August had probably had enough growling and biting in her life recently. So he grumbled deep in his chest instead, registering muted protest at the unfairness of the universe and got comfortable himself under her.

"Guess this ain't so bad." he told her, playing it cool as he reached round. August felt his arm brush along her waist as his hand delved into the popcorn bowl, and was suddenly struck by the incongruity of this scene. Okay, so it was a girl and a guy on a beanbag, but it was the hidden reality of the situation that gave it a nearly dreamlike air. The hot guy putting his arms around her as she reclined in his lap wasn't a man, or rather, wasn't a Man. Not like Lucien, with his crazy magic tricks. Or Nigel, with his tender ways and scholarly erudition. She was sitting in the lair of something that couldn't exist, eating popcorn and flirting with a fairytale monster while watching an action movie. Fairytale monster she thought in her deepest, darkest mind as she felt his arm rest around her waist. Declan's a monster - not because he's Evil, but because of what he is - and I don't know how I feel about it. I don't know enough to know how to feel about it. It did feel good to be here with him, that was for certain. He was solid and warm - very warm in fact. She distracted herself with thinking of words to describe that sensation. Warm... Alive... Vital... Vigorou- No. Better just watch the movie!

For Declan, the movie proved a decent enough distraction that he wasn't thinking about August on his lap every five seconds. Unless she shifted position a little, leaning back against him. Or turned her head to speak to him, her hair brushing his nose. Or twisted to feed him some popcorn. Every now and then she'd wriggle against him, an unconscious action he was sure, but that didn't lessen the impact. And, of course, he could smell her body's reaction to his nearness as they watched Jason Statham (who was pretty good at the action stuff) kick hell out of bad guys.

Okay, so he was thinking about August on his lap a lot. But really, what the hell was a Vargr to do?

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August liked The Transporter well enough but it wasn't getting a lot of her attention right now. Jason Statham was pretty hot - not in a pretty-boy way but in a rugged, rough way. But when compared to the man-shaped object lying underneath her, he was an ugly horse-faced man. The accent was still hot, though, August mused. Dec didn't have that - though he did have that sexy growl to his voice when his emotions were up. And such a firm, powerful body - like Statham's, but more natural. Statham had a Hollywood physique - Declan had the body of man who did work, with hair everywhere a man was supposed to have hair.

You want him, badly. This was not news, but the weight that settled on her guts was new. The urge to throw caution to the wind; to twist around put her arms around him were strong. But the knowledge that he was a MSO - man-shaped object - rather than a man made her hesitate. She wasn't sure what the rules for any connection would be. Dec wasn't exactly forthcoming, either. And there was that heady mix of danger and ferocity that scared August. That feeling was also familiar; her father had long ago blurred the line between dangerous and love. She wasn't in love with him, but her history made that possible.

She had to safeguard against that. He was dangerous; he wasn't even human. She couldn't let her lust for him cloud her judgement.

When the movie was done, August sat up a little straighter and turned to look at the man who had served as her seat. "I think it's time to eat," she said, then realized how her words could be taken. "Take out... you offered that earlier? Well, I have to confess, I have no money for that. If you have food, I'll cook for you. Best payment I can offer you."

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"Cook for me?" Declan blinked, then chuckled. August wondered what was funny, then had a horrible mental image of him saying "I prefer my meat warm, rather than cooked" with a mouth full of razor sharp teeth. But Declan was shaking his head. "I was offering to pay for the take out. I know you're a starvin' artist." he teased gently, sitting up a little so his face was level with hers. Her lips were right there, part of his brain supplied. He could kiss her, and they could forget about food for a while... August's face showed her visible war with her pride - she plainly didn't like being in the position of being 'looked after'. Dec kinda liked that, even though he didn't mind springing for the food.

"This'll be the second time you've treated me." August complained mildly. "I don't mind cooking, you know." She was aware that his arm was still around her waist as she sat sideways on his lap, looking at him, and that his silver eyes were on her face. "It's just... you've done a lot for me." she said in a softer tone.

"I ain't counting." Declan shrugged, then smiled at her. "But it has been awhile since someone cooked for me. If that'll put ya at ease, I'd be happy to eat properly." It was true - it had been awhile... like since he was twelve. Ever since then, meals prepared by others had been impersonal, a matter of duty or obligation. Schools, orphanages, the army... Most of his life now he'd been eating institutional food if he hadn't made it himself. His head tilted to one side, a curiously canine mannerism. "In fact," he said in a low tone, his smile now almost shy. "I think that'd be awesome."

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The look on Dec’s face made August feel weird. He seemed almost emotionally exposed in this moment, as if she’d done something disarming. She hadn’t meant to; she’d just been trying to salvage her own pride. “Well, what do you have in your kitchen?” she asked, pushing off of him to carry the bowl into the kitchen. She opened the fridge and reeled from the shocking white emptiness.

“Uh, I haven’t been shopping today,” Declan said from the doorway. August spun, looking surprised; she hadn’t heard him come in, much less rise from the beanbag. He gave her a sheepish smile. “Sorry, it’s a little bare.”

“We’ll just go out then, do some shopping,” August announced, letting the fridge close. She opened a few more drawers, checking to see what was on-hand. Very little; Declan looked like he ate fast, simple food, mostly out of cans. “Alright, do you like meatloaf?”

“Anything’s fine,” the MSO assured her.

“Then get your keys.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It was odd the way fate spun in circles. This entire thing had spawned from an encounter with a werewolf at the grocery store. Now she was standing in another grocery store with another werewolf – which just went to show you that context was everything. “You’re buying a pan?” Dec asked as August put the stiff foil pan in the cart.

“You don’t have one,” August said. “These are cheap and good for a couple of uses, more if you are gentle with them.” She grinned at the vaguely lost look on his face. “This is my aunt’s meatloaf recipe. I was raised on this dish. I’ve cooked it a hundred times; Lucien Hunt magically appears every time I pull this out of the oven, it’s so good.” Which explained why she cooked it so often at home… “And when I make gravy from the juices, you’ll love my mashed potatoes.” Add in a salad for herself and it’d be a meal to remind him why someone took the time to cook.

“So,” August said, surveying the cart, “oatmeal, eggs, bacon, hamburger, Italian herbs, potatoes, butter… pans… I think that’s it.” She glanced at the big man leaning on the shopping cart’s bars. “You interested in getting dessert? A box of brownie mix could be cooking while we eat.”

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He'd been enjoying himself a surprising amount considering he was just grocery shopping, which wasn't usually on Declan's top five favorite things to do, least of all in company. Shopping for him was usually done with military haste: get in, scoop a basket full of cans of stuff he liked - beef stew, soups, and so on - and maybe some bacon, a joint of meat or two, add cartons of milk to the haul and then get out. August's assessment of his eating habits was pretty much spot on, as far as it went. For variety and to keep sharp once or twice a month, more often if he could manage it, the Vargr travelled into the hills and hunted for himself. At her question he took his attention away from her legs and looked at her face, his expression hesitant.

"Uh, yeah, I don't usually have dessert. But I'm cool with gettin' some brownie mix if you want." he shrugged. August frowned at him.

"What? Don't tell me I have to give up brownies as part of my training regimen." she said, eyes widening. "Or even desserts in general. I mean, that's really twisted." She was somewhat relieved to see him laugh and shake his head.

"Naw, nothing like that." he said with a grin as he straightened up. "It's just, well, sugars and chocolate ain't so good." He looked at her blank face and tried to elaborate. "For me, I meant." he said by way of explanation. August's brow crinkled in a slight frown. "Because I'm... y'know?" he gestured at himself. August's green-blue eyes shot wide open.

"Oh!"

"Yeah."

"What, no desserts?" she asked with something like sympathetic horror.

"I can, but it ain't a good idea." he said, remembering what his cousin had told him. "Same goes for caffeine."

"No coffee... How do you get up in the mornings?" August demanded as they moved down the aisle to the baking stuff. At Dec's insistence, she added a box of brownie mix to the cart. He grinned again at her question.

"High on life, I guess." August narrowed her eyes at him, but then smiled faintly as they made their way to the checkout.

Dec drove carefully, almost warily, August noted as they made their way back to his place. Though part of that may have been his pickup, which looked like it'd rattle apart if it got over fifty - which feat would probably take heading downhill with a following breeze. The sun was just about hitting the horizon as they unloaded their haul from the back seat and headed inside, August dumping the stuff out on the kitchen counters and setting to work as Declan leaned against the doorway and watched her in that still, intent way he had, as though memorising her movements.

"You just going to stand there?" she asked with a smile as she looked over her shoulder at him. He folded his arms with exaggerated slowness and smiled back, eyes glinting wickedly

"Uh-huh. Admiring the view. Unless you've got somethin' better for me to do."

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August blinked, a blush crawling up her cheeks at Dec’s words. She covered by picking up the bag of potatoes and dropping them into his arms. “You were in the Army; you know what to do with these.”

The Vargr gave her a rueful, dramatic sigh, but went to the sink and started to wash the potatoes. “Known you were gonna put me to work, I woulda ordered out,” he grumped.

August grinned at him and promised, “Look, when I’m done with this, you’ll never want to eat out again.”

“And if I do?” Dec asked, flashing her a toothy grin. “Is there some kind of compensation if I’m not a hundred percent satisfied?”

August narrowed her eyes at him for a moment; then she relented. “I don’t know,” she admitted as she opened the bacon and found his frying pan. It was one of the few cooking implements that Declan owned. She cut the strips into pieces and started to fry them. “I hadn’t really thought about that.” She glanced up at him, trying to keep her expression from being sexy. It wasn’t easy. Declan was damned hot and the powerful muscles of his arms moved in interesting ways as he washed the potatoes.

“You can’t wiggle out of it,” Declan told her with faux sternness. “You’ve made a promise now and if I’m not happy with the result, you need to provide compensation for the trauma of my deep disappointment.”

“Trauma?” August blinked at him over the sizzling chunks of bacon. “Seriously?”

“As death,” he told her, his silver eyes glinting as he looked sideways at her.

“Fine, if you’re not satisfied, then I’ll… read you a bedtime story.” August wasn’t sure where that had come from; perhaps cooking the meatloaf had summoned a childhood memory of her aunt reading Charlotte’s Web to her. The idea sounded better the more she thought about it. “Yeah… if my meatloaf causes so much trauma, then I’ll negate it by reading you a bedtime story.” Green eyes twinkled at him mischievously. “Deal?”

“What book?” Declan asked, his expression contemplative.

“I have Hunger Games on m- uh, Oneca’s Kindle, and it’s in my bag,” August admitted. “I haven’t started to read it. It’s a post-apocalyptic world where people send children to fight in gladiatorial games. It’s apparently violent and gory. Doesn’t that sound about perfect for a bedtime tale for a werewolf?”

August froze as she realized what she’d just said. She’d just violated their unspoken rule about the ‘w-word’. Swallowing, she looked at Declan, wondering what his reaction would be to her slip-up.

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Declan sighed, looking down at the potatoes he was peeling with, as August surmised, a remarkable degree of speed and efficiency. He could smell the sudden rank taint of fear in her scent, and this time it kind of depressed him, rather than making him angry. Ain't I proved I'm not gonna eat her? Jeezus. What's it take, girl?

"I dunno." he said casually, quietly, still looking down at his busy hands. "It kinda sounds like how high school was for me. Thing is, when you're a Vargr - that's the right word for the type of werewolf I am, by the by - well, when you're one, even before you know it, humans can feel it. You make them nervous, or aggressive. They react to the Wild, that animal they can't see. It's instinct." *plop* A potato was tossed into the pan beside him as he picked up another. "I got into a lot of fights as a kid. Kids seem to react the strongest, and the one that's different... well, you know about that." He glanced sideways at her, smiling wryly as he tossed another scraped potato in. "And adults do it too, but they rationalise those instincts. 'He's scary cause he's big' 'He's creepy' 'He looks like he's dangerous'. And you know the kicker? They're right." Potatoes finished, he turned and leaned against the counter, hands grasping it's edge as he looked at her, head canted to one side.

"I'm a man who feels like a wolf feels. I'm a wolf that thinks like a man thinks. I'm both in one package. I always have been, because that's how I was born, and I never knew it until a couple years ago when my squad was ambushed on a night patrol and I Changed. Unlike this Shane dude, I didn't kill anyone on my side, or a loved one. But I killed." He sighed again, looking off to one side, then back at her once more. "So am I dangerous? Fuck yes. Am I dangerous to you? Fuck no. It'd take you coming at me with a silver cake fork and a bottle rocket to make me dangerous to you, girl." he told August, smiling slightly.

"So let's get it out there. You can talk about it, if you want to. You can ask questions, if you feel the need. I'll answer what I can, and tell you if I can't. And I'll trust you that you won't make a documentary about it."

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August’s head stayed down, her eyes on her food. “Hang on,” she murmured, “don’t let the bacon burn.” Dec moved to the stove as she ducked out of the room, her expression troubled. Even as he mulled over what might be wrong, August went to her bag, digging through it for her hair tie.

She was mulling over what to say; how did you tell your friend that you weren’t afraid of him but reacting to the memory of her father? Had August called her father something he hadn’t wanted to be called, she would have been knocked to the floor. August sensed that Declan wouldn’t appreciate the comparison.

But that’s what it was; her spike of fear had been an expectation that Dec would blow his top, just like her father would have done. That terrible aura of violence that the Vargr wore like a cloak was just like the frightening rages that her father had thrown. But Dec wasn’t like her father. Her father had been sick-

August had a sudden thought, one that stopped her in her tracks. What if her father had been a werewolf? One like Shane, who couldn’t really control himself? It fit, in a way; Walter Turner had always been so fickle; one moment he’d be raging and the next he’d be hugging his daughters or wife, apologizing for what he’d done. August had never known whether she’d have the loving father that moment, or the angry one.

But Dec seemed much more stable. That thought was foremost on her mind as she came back into the kitchen and washed her hands. She turned to Dec – and stopped, shock giving way to indignation. Dec looked like a canine that had grabbed a treat off the counter when his owner wasn’t looking. He was also chewing and sucking air in and out of his mouth while trying to look like he was doing no such thing. “Damn it! Leave that bacon alone!”

“Ahm noh doneh anyhting!” Dec insisted as he relinquished the hot pan to August.

“Serves you right if you burn your tongue,” August muttered.

“It’ll heal,” Dec said.

August blinked at him, startled. “Really?” she asked.

“Really,” he answered. “We heal really fast. Even if it burned my tongue, I’ll be fine by dinner.”

August stared at him. “Okay,” she said, sounding startled. She was quiet a moment, finishing the bacon and setting it aside to cool a bit. As she started to mix the hamburger, spices, eggs and oatmeal, she gathered her thoughts. Her fingers were deep in the mixture, making sure it was thoroughly homogenized before she said, “Dec, I’m not afraid of you. You’ve saved my life, you’re teaching me to fight. All the myths I’ve read say I should be, but… I’m not. I can’t be. You’re my friend.” She gave him a real smile at that statement.

“I’ve just been… conditioned to react a certain way to disappointing or upsetting men who feel like you do,” August said, her smile fading as her eyes dropped back to the meaty contents of the bowl. “But I trust you, Declan. I trust you enough to relax around you, and I trust you with my safety. Believe me, that’s means something to me.”

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"Me too." Dec said as he watched her hands knead the mixture in the bowl. When she looked at him, he shrugged. "I mean, I trust you too. You could do for me, expose me for what I am, blow my secret wide open-"

"I wouldn't." August said with instant firmness. Dec raised a hand placatingly.

"I know." he said with a smile. "You wouldn't. And that's why I trust you." He looked down at his feet as he leaned against the counter, his brow knotted pensively. August watched him curiously as she scooped the meatloaf out of the bowl and into the pan. Declan thought about how... comfortable it felt, having a friend here, in his den. And how strange it was that, though he wanted to jump August's bones, it wasn't the main reason he was pleased to have her here. Well, it was a close, close second but still, for the Vargr it was an expanding of horizons.

"It feels weird, having a friend." he said quietly. "I had squadmates in the Army, and they were kinda friends, but more like foster brothers. We got along and worked shit out because we had to, because otherwise we'd have been fuckups. But like I said before, I've had no friends since my Change, and precious few before it. So it means something to me, too." He looked up at her and grinned a little.

"I mean, I dunno where we stand as guy and girl, except I think you're hot and I'm pretty sure you think the same 'bout me. The nose don't lie." One silver eye winked, then he smiled warmly. "But as people... we're friends for sure. That's somethin' I ain't confused about." He started to reach for a sliver of the bacon.

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