thegraveheart:

iamthefirechild:

She should be frightened of him. She should be terrified.

He saved her life.

“I’m an empath. And … something else. I don’t know what. I don’t — know how I do that. Other thing. I don’t know how I can.” Her knees wobbled a little again, and she was a little worried she might collapse. She hoped not. That would be embarrassing.

Rather than touch him, she walked around until she could look in his face again. “Hey. Thank you. Again. A lot. Can I know your name?”

With the kick of fight or flight still rushing through him, senses heightened to almost uncomfortable degrees, he could smell her adrenalin, her fear, hear her heart beat rapidly as though his ear were pressed against it.

He took a steadying breath and pulled a hand through his curls, a nervous habit that he just couldn’t seem to break.

“It’s Isaac,” he finally grumbled, shoving his hands back into the pockets of his jeans. He was irritated—not at her, but at himself for losing control like that. Anyone could have seen, and he was fucking lucky that no one had.

As far as he knew, anyway.

“So, what, you feel what other people feel, or something?”

“Yes. Mostly.” Summer glanced around, but no one seemed to be paying attention to them. Most of the students seemed to be more focused on enjoying the fact that they weren’t in class and might not have to go back to class. “We should probably leave while there’s still confusion.”

She definitely needed to talk to Isaac more. He was the closest thing to answers she’d found yet — and he was clearly not going to let anyone mess with her, despite the sarcastic attitude. 

thegraveheart:

iamthefirechild:

Somehow, the hunter twisted /under/ Isaac’s arm, even while the grip on his wrist tightened, and pulled the werewolf’s arm up behind his back. He hissed, “Hard to do when you’re holding on to me,” and jerked his wrist free. “I’m coming back for her. Decide whose side you’re on, wolf-boy.” Then he was gone, back down the hallway and out a different set of doors, seeming perfectly casual.

Summer could sense him leaving, the absence that meant his presence weaving through clusters of the brilliant sparks that were people, normal people, ordinary people. She closed her hands, pulling the fire back into herself. It burned inside her wildly, but she forced every bit of control she had ever learned on it, closing it up, closing herself up, until finally it died, smothered.

Her legs still felt wobbly as she went back across the field toward Isaac. A werewolf. He was a werewolf, and he had just saved her life. “I think I owe you my freedom,” she said, when she was near enough to look into his golden eyes.

Isaac bared his canines at her, but his shift took precedence over his emotions. With a twist of his neck and a pop of his bones, he was human again, fur, brow bone, teeth, claws receding, eyes fading back to their soft blue.

“The sooner you make use of it, the better.” It wasn’t his intention to sound like an asshole, but—”Next time I won’t be around to save your ass.”

A pause, and he turned his face away from the scores of students flooding out of the doors and gathering around campus. “What exactly are you?” he asked, still maintaining eye contact with some far away tree.

She should be frightened of him. She should be terrified.

He saved her life.

“I’m an empath. And … something else. I don’t know what. I don’t — know how I do that. Other thing. I don’t know how I can.” Her knees wobbled a little again, and she was a little worried she might collapse. She hoped not. That would be embarrassing.

Rather than touch him, she walked around until she could look in his face again. “Hey. Thank you. Again. A lot. Can I know your name?”

thegraveheart:

iamthefirechild:

The hunter didn’t sound like he was in pain, despite his broken nose, despite the grip Isaac had on his wrist. He didn’t much sound like he was surprised by Isaac wolfing out, either. “You didn’t answer my question, son. And you didn’t look. Look at what you’re defending.”

Summer stepped forward, feeling as though she balanced a container full of something awful, something dangerous, on top of her head. If she wavered just a little, everything would burn. It didn’t help that Isaac was throwing off waves of emotion, adding to the wobbly feeling the sense of being in rough seas.

“Please stop,” she whispered, reaching out as if she could touch the two men.

This had to be some sort of fucked up parallel universe.

In short, Isaac couldn’t give less of a shit what she was—the only thing that mattered was that this guy was a threat. He could worry about everything else later, when shit made sense again and someone wasn’t pleading for his help.

He twisted his grip, feeling bone strain under his fingers, and bared his fangs, eyes blazing gold under the afternoon sun, vicious, hungry, the wolf so close to the surface that he could practically feel the slide of its pelt.

“Turn around. Walk away.”

Somehow, the hunter twisted /under/ Isaac’s arm, even while the grip on his wrist tightened, and pulled the werewolf’s arm up behind his back. He hissed, “Hard to do when you’re holding on to me,” and jerked his wrist free. “I’m coming back for her. Decide whose side you’re on, wolf-boy.” Then he was gone, back down the hallway and out a different set of doors, seeming perfectly casual.

Summer could sense him leaving, the absence that meant his presence weaving through clusters of the brilliant sparks that were people, normal people, ordinary people. She closed her hands, pulling the fire back into herself. It burned inside her wildly, but she forced every bit of control she had ever learned on it, closing it up, closing herself up, until finally it died, smothered.

Her legs still felt wobbly as she went back across the field toward Isaac. A werewolf. He was a werewolf, and he had just saved her life. “I think I owe you my freedom,” she said, when she was near enough to look into his golden eyes.