Feral by Anne Berkeley Page A

morning.
    “Don’t be so surprised.  Not all gays are fashion-forward and have lisps.”
    “No, but you are a werewolf.”
    “We’re lycan .  Werewolf is so cliché.  And we’re not without diversity.  In fact, we’re probably more accepting of it than humans.”
    “ Why is that?”
    “ I’ll explain it to you someday when you’re more acquainted with our kind.”  Leaning against the wall, Lucius crossed his arms over his chest.  “You want to know why everyone looks so disappointed, well, how did you look at me a minute ago?”
    Like it was a loss for the female race.  Lucius was some serious eye candy.
    “Exactly, only you’re lycan now.  The loss is twofold.”  Because woman didn’t often survive the change.  Females were few in number and coveted among the lycan population.
    “Whatever.”  How concerned for my welfare they were only minutes ago.  Now, Crispin wouldn’t even acknowledge me.  Lucius and Max couldn’t even suffer to be in the same room.  They weren’t any different from any other boy.  I shouldn’t have expected otherwise.  Shallow, insensitive, predictable creatures they were.
    My parents, they were a different story.
    Infuriated, I went in search of my cell phone.  How could my mother infer doubts about my sexual preference?  Don’t mistake me; I had nothing against the notion, except that I wasn’t a lesbian.  I was thoroughly attracted to the male anatomy, just not the puny brains they were born with.  Nevertheless, for my mother to suggest I was anything other than heterosexual because I hadn’t slept with Marcus was entirely despicable.  I never felt so affronted.
    Throwing the door to the bedroom open, I found one fine male specimen standing in his prime.  I paid him no mind as I entered the room and retrieved my cell from the bedside table.
    “Come right in,” Icarus mused, sliding on a pair of jeans.
    “Just one of the guys, right?”
    “Give them a few hours.  They’ll come to their senses.”
    “What do I care?  I’m leaving anyways.  Let them think what they want.  They’re probably envisioning me making out with some hot brunette right now.”  Switching my cell on, I paged through my messages.  Ten missed calls from my parents.  Six from Marcus.  Nineteen from Peyton.  Skank.  How could she think I’d talk to her?  True friends along with respectable men I was beginning to think were fictional, existing only in my far-fetched, idealistic brain.
    “How long do I have until the moon waxes?”
    “A week and a half, two weeks before you feel the full effect.”
    Long enough.  “I’ll go home tomorrow as planned.  It’ll clear your name.  Just give me a week to talk to Marcus.  If we can’t come to an agreement, than you do w hat your first instinct was and…well… you know.  It’s the best solution I can come up with in the time given.”
    Nonplus, Icarus scrubbed his jaw.  “ Thaleia—”
    “I’m not here to lay a guilt trip on you if that’ s what you think.  It’s for the best all the way around.  Myself included.”
    ΑΒΩ
    Because there were no spare bedrooms, I spent the night in the bathroom.  It wasn’t comfortable by any means, but it was clean and it had a lock on the door.  Apparently—to my disappointment—the lock wasn’t message enough to keep Icarus out, because I woke in the morning, squinting against the lights of the vanity, to find him brushing his teeth before the mirror.
    He wore only navy sweats, which sat low on his hips.  His back was lean, muscled, his olive skin tanned from the summer sun.  Raven’s black hair just reached his shoulders.  Running his hands through it, he pushed it from his face, tucking it behind his ear, revealing his defined jaw.  In the mirror, my eyes trailed from the curve of his chin to the plains of his chest and down the line of black hair that ran from his navel and disappeared beneath the waist of his pants.
    Rinsing the toothbrush, he ran his