Chapter 1

You know, you never know when something’s just going to blow you away.

Like Tom Sthyme going to church for the Christmas service. He’d always been frightened that somehow, the church would have a sensing ability and know what he was. Then send some divine power to force him out of the building and onto his ass in the street.

William Eastwood, Tom’s best friend, had invited him, eh, more like forced him, to come with William’s wife, Donna and his son Alan.

Of course, Tom couldn’t refuse; not when Will was chasing him with one of Donna’s silver necklaces around his apartment like a raving three year old.

Walking into the large building Tom cringed at the threshold, waiting for the explosion and sudden gust of air to knock him out. Or the spontaneous combustion of my cells!

Will caught Tom’s eye as his friend looked cautiously around, and smiled in an exasperated way.

“Hon, you and Al go get us good seats,” said Will, sticking his hands leisurely in his pockets as the two left.

“Worried about your furry little problem Tom?” he asked, smiling good-naturedly with his eyebrows raised amusedly.

When Tom just glared, he laughed jovially, hooking an arm around his friend’s shoulders and guiding him into the worship center.

“You won’t get struck down just because you’re cursed Tom,” he said as quietly as a loud, boisterous man like him could.

“Of course not, I know that Will,” Tom muttered, giving Will a look of skepticism. With his own hands fidgeting in his pockets as he let himself be led toward the seating area by his friend, his eyes glanced downward every so often. So no one would recognize the golden glint of slight animalism they held. Yeah right, he thought in contradiction to the other man’s assurance, watch me end up dead by the end of the day.

Raising his eyebrows and knowing Tom well enough from being his friend since first grade, Will gave him the all-knowing I-know-what-you’re-up-to look. I feel sorry for Alan and any other kids he has, they’ll never get away with anything with that look, thought Tom.

“Well my unconcerned, lycanthropic friend, we have a Christmas service to go to,” said Will, grinning and continuing on, expecting Tom to follow.

Tomas heaved a sigh, Will could be annoyingly cocky and childish sometimes. Not that I have a problem with it, I have my moments where I’m less than rational, though few. The curse of not my “furry little problem” but being a professor.

“I want it to be known that I have no wish to be here. I am an old, grumpy English professor with the full moon on Thursday and used to being alone on Christmas,” Tom grumbled, following Will.

“Wish noted, but not appreciated. Being a grumpy old professor isn’t a reason not to come to church. Just as much as being a werewolf isn’t. And alone? You jest, certainly my friend, women love you- you just hate relationships…” Will said grinning at Tom’s severe glare as he pushed him.

“You are so lucky my backyard is a forest,” Tom muttered with a feral grin as they caught Donna and Alan waving at them from seats in the middle section of the giant theatre-like cathedral center.

Weaving between people talking and smiling, greeting friends and hurrying to seats, Will and Tom made their way to their own seats, Will next to Donna, and Tom next to him at the end of the row.

Shortly after a choir of about a hundred was revealed from behind a curtain, around ten or eleven people made their way to the front of the stage from the side entrances.

Tom stood with the rest of the church as the music began, feeling as though everyone knew that he was an outsider. He looked around awkwardly, not knowing the songs, but trying to mouth the words anyway, seeing Rick, Donna, even young Alan singing made him feel worse.

“Don’t look so anxious Tom,” said Donna leaning across Will to talk to him, smiling.

Will snorted, and Tom sighed, sticking his hands back in the pockets of his slacks.

After a few songs along the lines of “How Great Is Our God?” and “Shout to the Lord,” the lights focused on a man coming to stand in the middle of the stage.

The in wall monitors on either side of the stage told that he was the music pastor, Mark Harmen.

“Good Morning everybody. Welcome. If you are a guest we are happy to have you here worshipping Christ’s birth with us today! Merry Christmas! Why don’t we all stand greet each other today on this glorious morning!”

Tom threw a glare of incredulity at Will, who just smiled and shook his hand.

“Good old chap, how are you today? Job going good? Right you’re my boss. Well how’s the cat, oh yeah you ate it, crap, not much to talk about eh? Well good morning anyway!”

Tom narrowed his eyes at the man, Asshole.

Closing his eyes, Tom sat down among the sea of still standing people.

But as he placed his head in his hands, and missed the annoyed, but worried look of his friend, the church went utterly silent. And a soft, soothing piano introduction was played.

A voice filled Tom’s head like a rushing river, an angelic voice like no other he’d ever heard, rapturously pulling him into an awe-filled trance.

As well as being an English professor, Tom was a co-director for an orchestra at the academy he was currently with.

But nothing, nothing could compare to this-this voice, this song, he was in complete shock with the simple and complex purity of it. Lifting his head slowly and standing in his daze, he kept his eyes closed to continue the paralyzing draw the song was having on him. It was unbelievable, the sound he was hearing could not be coming from a woman, it had to be a goddess.

A decrescendo marked the end of the score, and lifted his trance. Tomas then opened his eyes, to see the spotlight centered on a girl that could not be any more normal than the girls who came to his classes.

With her auburn head bowed, the few blond and brown streaks shining in the light, the girl was about thirty pounds overweight, and wearing clothes that told of her tomboy personality. Strips of blue, silver and purple hung from black cargos. A black shirt splattered with the same accent colors went over a small chest, and less than flat stomach. Black and white converse were on her feet, short fingers held the microphone, silver nails catching the light. As the piano’s last chord faded, she looked up, her beauty somewhat lessened by the fact that her pretty features were covered by chub. Beautiful she was, but not the kind of beautiful most would think a woman would be. With high cheekbones and thin lips that twitched as she winked almost imperceptibly. A small, button nose wiggled as she smiled at the clapping crowd with almost straight teeth.

But her eyes, her eyes caught his breath with the swirling myriad of sea and sky, sapphire pearl and ultramarine, cerulean perfection.

Wisdom was held in those eyes, eyes which seemed too old for the young smooth skinned face in which they sat.

Only then did Tomas realize his mouth had fallen open; this amazing girl could only be fifteen or sixteen.

The werewolf’s heart pounded as it only did when the moon was full. A shiver ran through his body like a sudden cold.

Then the girl’s marvelous eyes focused on him, and he felt his eyes widen and face flush, as his body chilled again, and he sat down.

What is wrong with you…? he thought, angry with himself. A wave of shame washed over him, how could he have felt so affected by a girl that young? Anger replaced shame; the wolf had been attracted to her. He shook his head, dark brown hair slapping his eyes.

It’s turning you mental, you dirty old man! he thought heatedly.

But when he looked up from his seated refuge, he saw the girl with a shocked look on her face, eyes still where his head had been.