Page 78 of Fangs with Benefits

Being with Molly makes me remember being human, her pure joy and excitement over a delicious meal, quiet contentment in feeling the sun on her skin through a window, and the way she falls asleep with a slight smile on her face. And all the while, she pulls my mouth down to hers, kisses me stupid, undoes me with her hands or her lips, and doesn’t complain when I wake her with my tongue lapping the sweetness of her molten centre. I shower with her in the evenings, and she doesn’t fuss when I ask to wash her hair. She lets me give her massages after work, lets me hold her to my chest while she sleeps.

Friends, I remind myself. This can’t be more than friends.

Tonight, we sit in Dylan’s apartment, quietly reading, a record playing on Dylan’s player. It’s past seven and Molly has her feet on my lap; Gemma is bundled up on Molly’s stomach. I do believe the traitorous beast likes Molly infinitely more than it likes me, but in all fairness, I would pick her over myself, too.

‘Bro, I am totally fucked,’ Dylan says as soon as he enters the apartment. ‘Oh hi, Molly.’

She sits up on the couch. Gemma grumpily meows at the disruption before settling back down in a new spot next to me.

Dylan sheds his coat and his suit jacket, then yanks at his tie. His hair looks a mess, like he’s been pulling on it.

He squints at Molly, obviously debating something, and she shifts nervously, closing her book entirely while we wait. Dylan sighs and sits down on the leather chair to the left of the couch.

Without fanfare, he says, ‘Molly, I’m a werewolf.’

‘So we’re doing this,’ I mutter, putting my book down too. Gemma vacates the couch as both Molly and I sit up to engage fully in this conversation with Dylan.

To Molly’s credit, she takes this news very well, blinking at my best friend and then slowly nodding for him to go on, too stunned to speak or dutifully biting her tongue from all the questions I know she is desperate to ask. Not the time, she can probably sense, from his tense mood.

‘There are a lot of legends about werewolves but the full moon thing is true,’ Dylan explains. ‘Like get me outside on a full moon night and it’s game over. I’m not waking up clothed in bed, I’m going to be bare ass naked in the woods–it’s how Elijah found me outside of his house.’

‘That’s true, it was.’

‘All right,’ Molly says.

‘Problem is, my company’s got a mandatory team leadership trip booked for the week of the next full moon.’

‘Oh.’ Molly tilts her head side to side. ‘Sounds like the perfect excuse to get out of a work trip. Just say you have strep.’ I don’t know why I had any doubt that she’d take the news of Dylan’s non-human existence as well as she took mine. Molly is one of a kind in this, I think.

Dylan slides his palms down his face and groans. ‘That’s the thing. I’m screwed out of a promotion if I back out.’

Molly sucks her teeth in a sound of sympathy. ‘Well, no matter what you do, a four-hundred-and-nine-year-old vampire might con his way into the position anyway.’ Molly winks at me then turns her attention back to my roommate, who looks like he might melt right into the leather in this unyielding anguish.

‘Don’t know how you didn’t kill Elijah for that. I would’ve.’

‘Still might,’ Molly says and pinches my wrist. Her thigh bumps against mine, and I press mine against hers likewise. I’ve determined that, if I only have Molly for a short time, I want to be touching her as often as is possible. To this end, I rest my hand on her leg, thrilling at the touch.

‘Where is the retreat happening?’ I ask.

‘At some lodge. Two full days, three nights.’ Dylan holds up three fingers then lets his hand drop with a thump on his lap.

Molly frowns. ‘In December? Seems cruel.’

‘What kind of lodge?’ I ask. ‘If there are trees around, could you just stow clothes somewhere and run into the wild while everyone sleeps? Back by sunrise?’

Dylan mulls this idea over, squinting and rolling his bottom lip between his fingers.

‘It’s dangerous,’ he says finally. ‘The pack house is secluded, as far away from humans as we can reliably get in the state of New York. The lodge is in a forest, but there will be a ton of people around, including twelve of my colleagues.’

Dylan is a generational werewolf, in that both of his parents are werewolves, though his father was turned. Werewolves are either born or turned by the bite of a werewolf on a full moon. Similar to vampirism, not every attempt equals a new werewolf, but most of them will.

‘And you’re worried you might kill someone?’ Molly asks.

‘No!’ Dylan says, offence obvious. Molly shrugs because, no really, how was she supposed to know? I rub my thumb back and forth over a spot above her knee and she leans closer. ‘I don’t kill people. I run around, hunt some rabbits, roll in the dirt, chase other wolves.’

‘Okay, fine, good. Sounds harmless,’ Molly says. ‘What’s the issue?’

‘I don’t want to bite someone. I’m thirty-five and haven’t made any werewolves yet. Feels like I’m tempting fate.’