Cursed Wolf

Tate woke to the sunlight streaming through the window. He was happy the new potion allowed him to sleep in human form. The sun glowed in Dalia’s wild red hair. The sight of her face peacefully resting against the pillow was like watching an angel fly through the clouds.

His heart wept with the joy and beauty that he had before him. He had to do something for her to show her how special she was to him. He wished that he could give her the world.

He wished he could pluck the stars of the sky and fashion jewelry out of them. That was the only thing that matched the beauty of the sparkle in her eyes.

He climbed out of bed and pulled on his clothes then tiptoed into the kitchen. He checked her fridge and cabinets and began to pull out everything he would need to make a delicious breakfast.

He fixed a pot of coffee and put it on to brew before cracking eggs into a bowl. He had the bacon sizzling in a pan as he stirred the eggs and grated cheese for his scramble.

“That smells delicious,” Dalia said, walking into the kitchen wrapped in a bathrobe.

Her hair was all over the place and her eyes were bleary. She smiled when she smelled the coffee. She walked toward him and lifted on her tiptoes to k!ss his cheek.

“Thank you,” she said, turning to the cabinets to grab a coffee cup.

She poured herself a cup and filled it with cream before settling into one of the stools at the kitchen counter. She watched him pluck the bacon from the pan and put it on a plate to cool.This text is © NôvelDrama/.Org.

He shoveled the eggs onto two plates. Toast popped out of the toaster, and he slathered it with butter and strawberry jam. He cut the toast in half and placed it on the plate. He set one in front of her and climbed into the stool beside her. Tate then shoveled eggs into his mouth.

“You can cook.” She munched on bacon.

“Rebecca and Patrick Doolittle taught me how to use a modern kitchen. They were both excellent cooks. We had the most amazing meals. I miss hanging out with the Doolittle kids. We used to play Call of Duty and Mario Kart.”

“Who are the Doolittles?”

“They’re a family of bear shifters that found us when we first came to Fate Island. That was before we met Luna and got the potion. They let us sleep in their woodshop, and we stayed with them until we sold our land. We each got a tidy sum from the sale. Everyone but Blake, who didn’t want to sell. That’s how I got my car and apartment.”

“Why didn’t he want to sell the land?”

“It was in our family for three generations. I understand the sentimental attachment, but there was nothing left there except a decaying hunting cabin. That’s just my family drama. What are your plans today?”

“I was going to finish my painting and maybe take a hike to get some more pictures of the spring forest. I prefer to work outdoors, but I can be a lot more efficient in the studio. Four Winds Gallery is begging for more paintings since the tourist season is coming up.”

“Is it safe for you to go out by yourself right now?”

“Would you come with me?”

“Of course.”

Dalia went to her studio to grab her photography bag while Tate packed a lunch. They put the camera bag and backpack in the backseat, and he climbed behind the wheel. He turned on the ignition. Whiney Houston’s “How Will I Know”blared through the radio. He turned it down and she looked at her.

“What kind of music do you like?” he asked. “I have a thing for 80s pop music.”

“Sounds great.” She giggled and sang along with the radio.

They wound their way up into the mountain, climbing higher and higher through the yellow cedar forest. When they stopped at the trailhead, the sky was bright and blue, the spring air was crisp and warm. He grabbed the backpack out of the backseat and Dalia slung her camera bag over her shoulder.

They were both dressed in sturdy clothes and boots for the trail. He smiled at her. Her eyes glistened in the morning sun.

“This trail has a wonderful view of the valley. It’s exactly the kind of thing that tourists love. The landscape of Fate Island is the most beautiful in the world.”

They climbed higher on the trail and stopped every once in a while for Dalia to take photographs. When they made it to the top of the hill, there was a clearing that looked down on the valley with the ocean beyond.

It was a breathtaking landscape. Tate stared at it while Dalia clicked away on her camera. He set the backpack on a picnic table and arranged their lunch. When she was done taking photographs, she sat down opposite him and bit into her turkey sandwich. He poured them both cups of lemonade and she gratefully accepted hers.

“It’s such a beautiful day. I couldn’t imagine better weather. The clouds on the horizon are going to be so beautiful in a painting.”

“Nothing could be as beautiful as you,” he said.

A blush rose in her cheeks, and she looked down at her sandwich.

“You say such sweet things. I’m not used to it.”

“I want to say and do and be the sweetest thing you’ve ever known.”