Page 17 of Timber Hollow

17

It's all fake

twenty five days to full moon

I wake up alone. That ragged wound opens once again. The clock on the nightstand tells me it is barely past noon.

It's all fake. It's all fake. I silently repeat to myself over and over. Jay and I always used to mess around like this. Hot and cold. It's no different now. We just fucked, Artemis. It's not like before. I repeat the words over and over to myself.

Everything is fine, Artemis. You said it yourself. Put you and Jay in a room together for long enough, one of you will fold.

My wolf is silent. Subdued.

I can smell Saint making food in the kitchen, so I have to assume he's the only one here, yet again. It doesn't matter though, I have to go to work. Slowly, I get out of bed, and into the shower. I ache in all the best places, a vivid reminder of the night before. After, I dress in a simple low-cut black tank top and black jeans, stuffing my feet into chunky boots. These jeans have a rip right under my ass, a victim of my wolfy claws. I'm willing to bet it will be a good tip night with these on.

I'm in a really shitty mood, but still, I swipe eyeliner across my eyelids, a little sparkle to the inner corners. A double coat of waterproof mascara on my lashes. I consider trying to hide the marks along my neck and collarbone, but I quickly dismiss the idea. Not only do I lack the appropriate coverage foundation, but I also lack the patience and willpower to do it. Not to mention the possibility of sweating through it and then having melting foundation running down my chest all night. An easy thirty-five minutes later I'm trudging down the stairs and make it nearly out the door before someone says my name.

I turn because of course, I do. Jay's standing in the doorway to the kitchen, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other resting on the frame above his head. My mouth waters. He's wearing jeans and a dark blue tee, the color making his eyes even more intense. I tell myself not to look for marks from last night on his neck, but I do it anyway.

They exist. A vivid path down the column of his throat and disappearing under his shirt.

"Yea?" I respond, hoping he doesn't notice the way my voice cracks.

"Where are you going?" His question is too casual. I hate it.

"To work?" I respond, giving him an ' Are you dumb' face.

"Hold on." He says, disappearing and reappearing in barely a second. "Put your number in my phone." Jay orders, stalking towards me with one hand rummaging in his pocket and the other holding a can of Redbull.

"Why?"

"Because I asked you to?" Jay responds, giving me a lazy smirk, holding his unlocked phone out to me.

I fight the small smile threatening to pull the corners of my lips up as I take the phone from him and dutifully put my number in. "You didn't really ask, big guy." I hate him for making my entire mood feel lighter in 3 seconds flat.

"But you're being a good girl and doing it anyway, aren't you?" Jay whispers in my ear as he tucks his phone back in his pocket. Heat floods my center, my heartbeat skyrocketing.

"You've got me on a technicality. That doesn't count." I simper, trying to keep my composure.

"Sure it does, Gorgeous," Jay responds, offering me the drink and leaning on his shoulder against the wall.

"Whatever you say. Anything else?" I sass, rolling my eyes at him. More than just heat floods me as I pop the top of the can–even if it's only to keep my hands busy. Once again, Jay has procured my favorite flavor. Blueberry battery acid.

"Yeah. I wanted to tell you that your cookies are delicious. I can't wait for you to bake more." Jay growls, his blue eyes flashing. I swear lightning strikes me down because every single nerve and synapse in my body lights up like a fucking Christmas tree.

I need to get out of here before I do something stupid, like rip his pants off and let him bend me over on the stairs.

So I say "For you? Anytime," over my shoulder, biting my lip as I open the door and leave. Thankfully, I’m able to make it all the way to my car without tripping, even managing to take a swig of my beverage. When I start the Stingray up, I make sure to rev the engine a little, meeting Jay's eyes through my windshield.

I want nothing else than to go back inside that house and bang his fucking brains out, but I know I shouldn't. I know I said I might as well just drown myself since I'm already in too deep, but a girl needs to have some self-preservation instincts.

My wolf is riled up, her fur shifting under my skin from all the tension cording through me.

Last night did prove something though. Nobody can fuck me quite like Jay Temple can.

Since I don't have to stop for anything on my way to work, it's a quick drive. I have to work tonight, but then I'm off again tomorrow, and then the following day is Fire Night. I don't mind the weird schedule so much as I just wonder how the hell I'm going to fill my time and not jump on Jay the second I get home.

Maybe I need to ask Ivy, Angel, and Jill to come over. Have a girl's night or something. As soon as I pull into work, turning the engine off my phone pings with a new text message. I hate the way my pulse jumps, and the way my stomach goes cold at the same time when I read Jay’s name in the notification bar.

I like the way your neck looks with me all over it.

Thanks for the ride, cowboy.

Have a nice night, Artemis.

You too, Jay.

I can't help but feel a little disappointed that he's not coming in like he said he was going to.

You're an idiot, Artemis Hunt. I never should have kissed him, never should have lied and said he was my boyfriend.

Never should have come home. All that Timber Hollow has ever given me is pain. I am a fool to think otherwise.

At least I have caffeine. I grouse to my wolf as I trudge into the brightly lit building that is Coyote Bills.

As I’m tying an apron around my waist she replies. And we can run later.

I silently agree with my wolf as I clock and get to work. A smile sits on my face, pulling the corners of my lips up but it's not real. Single-minded focus keeps my hands moving, pouring drinks and counting out change, charming patrons into hefty tips, and cheering on my fellow bartenders as they twirl liquor bottles around their hands. Jill and Angel, are now apparently best friends.

Hours drone by, sweat pooling at the small of my back the more bodies are packed inside. It's a warm night, particularly for October. Somewhere around nine, Ivy finds me as I'm grabbing new bottles of liquor from storage.

"Are you up for the booth tonight?" She asks, helping me carry bottles back to the bar.

"No, I have a migraine," I answer simply, grateful that Ivy doesn’t need long-winded explanations. My head does hurt, but it's not migraine-level– just tension gripping my skull. Either way, I really don't want to do the booth. Astronomical tips be damned . It would be tonight and my black mood that would end up fucking everything up, like if I were to hit a human with wolf strength.

Some survival instincts, at least, are still intact.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Have you taken anything for it?" Ivy asks, putting the speed pourers on the tops of her bottles.

"Yeah, it’s just not doing anything."

"Why don't you take off around midnight then? Me, Angel, and Jill can close up." Ivy orders, patting my shoulder as she walks away, back to do whatever it was she was doing before she found me.

Three more hours. I can manage three more hours.

Around eleven my wolf emerges from whatever black corner of my mind she'd slunk to. Her energy crackles under my fingers, her fur once again tickling my skin. I'll need to hunt something big tonight. Hunt and run until I collapse. She paces in my mind, a continuous loop until I clock out.

I don't drive back to the apartment, instead going down the old back road where the sawmill used to be before it caught fire and was rebuilt across town. The forest has all but reclaimed the space, the remnants of the old charred building covered in moss and vine. I barely make it two steps out of the Stingray before the magic of the shift starts tingling under my skin. Thankfully, I manage to strip out of my shirt and pants before my wolf emerges.

I don't have any spare clothes in the Stingray yet.

A howl rips free from my throat, a clarion call that I know will go unanswered. With our nose to the sky, we sniff, scenting our desired prey. And then we're off nails digging into the dirt, tearing through the forest.

When will I stop running?