Easton was patient with me when I got the confidence to become handsy. Each little pat on his head seemed to make his eyes close a little more and he ended up resting his chin on my knee while he let out little contented huffs. 

I knew that each time Nero had put his hands on me he had been in human form. I had no real reason to be afraid of the wolf in front of me. But God, I had gotten so used to seeing Easton as a beaming, bright eyed man that this was a shock to the system. Knowing something and seeing it were often two very different things. And seeing him like this was just another reminder that he was the very thing I had been fleeing from for many years.

But I never saw a flash of teeth, never heard a rumbling snarl melt out of his chest. He hardly seemed like a wolf at all, more like a glorified lap dog. So, I started doing things that I would do to a lap dog. I stroked my hands over his face then, sliding them down, then pushed upwards, smooshing his face like people often did to young children. A tongue lolled out, almost like he was laughing. 

He was larger than any dog I had ever seen, probably on the account that he was a wolf, and a magical one at that, but he still let me touch his legs and the tops of his paws. There was a second of hesitation when I saw those talons embedded in his feet, but green eyes reassured me that all was well. The humanity was so clearly there, and his gaze showed me that he was still Easton, always looking like he was having a little more fun than everyone else. Covered in coarse fur or wearing buttons made no difference. 

But the fun stopped when I got to his ears. I had already tampered with his long coat, his face, and his chest, but when I tried to fold his ear inside out, fascinated with the texture, he shook his head and shuffled away, jostling his head around until his ear popped back into place. 

Still there was no aggression and when he pawed at his head like a cat cleaning itself, I had to laugh.

"Alright, alright, so ears are off limits," I teased. 

I think he tried to look dignified or serious at the very least, but it only made me laugh harder.

"Thank you," I whispered, finally catching my breath. When he cocked his head to the side, I continued, "Thank you for being patient with me and letting me do stuff like that. You were right when you said that I'm scared. I'm terrified. And I think, for a while, I forgot that you could even become a wolf. I got scared all over again." The admission rolled off my lips with ease, like it was simpler to confess these kinds of secrets to a beast who couldn't ask any verbal questions, couldn't wonder what awful things had happened to me to make me this way. 

Easton let out another little huff and rose up. I thought he was coming back to me so I could continue with my poking and prodding, but he strolled right passed me, up the stairs. He let out a little whine there and I heard his claws against the porch.

I followed him up and was surprised to see him digging at his door mat before looking up at me expectantly. I reached down, pulling aside the funky doormat with a stupid picture of a dog on it. I gave him a dark look for his stupid sense of humor before noticing a key that was hidden on the planks.

"Guess you have a lot going for you, but thumbs aren't your strong point, hey?" I teased, replacing the mat and opening the door. 

I wasn't an expert on werewolves, but I knew that there wasn't a big chance he was going to return to his human form fully clothes. So after I removed my shoes and he wiped his paws on the mat, Easton made the trek to the bathroom and I settled myself on the couch. 

I sifted through his channels, hearing Eddy mumbling about the excess in the back of my mind. But I wasn't complaining. A news channel and an educational channel might have been enough for the old man, but I needed more stimulation. And, naturally, the Phantom of the Opera was playing. 

I was halfway through singing the first song when I heard the door open behind me. My heart leapt into my throat as it always did, but I expected Elliot or Hazel to be the only people who would barge into Easton's home. So far, it seemed like he was keeping everyone else at bay.

But when I spun around, I did not see a familiar face. 

The first person to enter was a tall man with wide shoulders and corded forearms peeking out of long sleeve shirt. Dark, almost black eyes were paired with chocolate skin and a close cropped buzz cut. He loomed in the entryway, making everything look like it was made for Santa's elves.

I scrambled to my feet. 

My eyes snapped over his form. The skin on his face told me that he was older, skin revealing wrinkles from sun exposure and facial expressions, but there was not a kiss of grey in his hair. And his body showed no signs of aging. His dark skin was stretched over large muscles and his tight shirt revealed it all to me. 

The man was built like a footballer, like a fighter.

And a white man followed in behind him, impeccably styled hair on his head and clean, crisp clothes on his smaller frame. But he too was fit and lean. Perhaps not to the point of the other man, not built for brute strength, but designed for endurance running.

And though I was twenty years younger than each of them, I knew I couldn't take them.

And without water, I was useless. 

But that didn't mean that I would go down without a fight. 

I eased my body downward, my feet spreading just passed shoulder width. My gaze moved to the kitchen. Maybe I couldn't fight them, but maybe I could get around them.

"You must be Kaia," the first one said warmly, his full lips spreading into a smile. "Easton has told us a lot about you."

"Stay away from me. I don't care that Easton made it easy to corner me, I'm stronger than you know," I warned, suddenly wishing I was the daughter of Zeus so I could have strings of electricity crackling from my fingertips or something of the sort. That would be terrifying. Everything a girl with straw in her hair and thin limbs was not.

I should have known this was coming. I should have known that it was all too good to be true. I was a fool for thinking that Easton was on my side. He was one of them. He had always been one of them. Maybe I didn't understand the werewolf world as well as I should have, maybe he had used half truths to confuse me. But half truths and smiles weren't going to be enough to persuade me to give up everything so willingly.

I lunged, moving like I was about to attack the smaller, more feasible male.

Instead of engaging me like I thought he would, he flinched backwards. The large black man stepped in front of him, like any good protector would.

But he was too slow, not even moving to grab me before I dodged around him and threw myself in the kitchen. Here, I was farther from my shoes and the main exit, but I was closer to the back door and the tap. I cranked the faucet on, pushing my hand under the lukewarm, lifeless stream and I stared between the two men, wondering how I could command them to give me enough time for a get away. 

I just needed to get away from this house. I needed to get to the creek or the cabin.

I sucked in a deep breath, feeling the tips of my hair rise. It was such a strange feeling now, like being in a new province. The laws were the same, but the air felt different. I knew what I was doing, what I was, but I didn't feel like I had the right to wield the power anymore. But my sight sharpened anyway. Because, werewolf mate or not, this was who I was.

I was the daughter of the sea king.

"Dad? Father?" 

Easton appeared out of the hallway. My eyes flashed to him.

And when he saw the electric blue colour of my irises, he stepped back.

"I knew it," he whispered.

~~~Question of the Day~~~

What was cool when you were younger but isn't cool now?

Uh everything, those weird bracelets that were in the shape of things, wearing teeshirts over long sleeves. My youth was a hot mess.