He probably had never seen a stretch mark in his life. The thought made her full lips lift into a small smirk. Emma walked quickly through the noisy crowd while sneaking quick glances in his direction, he was hard to miss. Though in a crowd of what was obviously his entourage, he seemed to still manage to attract her eyes . He had a firm squared jaw, thin lips that were moving quickly to what she could only imagine to be brusque commands whilst his piercing blue eyes quickly scanned the crowds. He was dressed in a fine looking black suit that tapered snugly over his large broad chest. He looked intimidating and it was not all based on his massive size. He had an aura of power surrounding him, he exuded authority.
His entourage was similarly dressed, all five or six males dressed in black. All except the beautiful blonde that had her arm entwined with his. Emma could not deny that the woman was beautiful, she was dressed in a slinky, barely there sequined dress. She was tall and slender, her blonde hair in perfect curls and her red lips were formed into a sensual pout. It figured that man as gorgeous as he would no doubt be paired with a beautiful woman.
Emma thought herself pretty, maybe a little ordinary, but decent nonetheless . She saw herself realistically, as she liked to say. She was of average height reaching about 5'5 on a good day, her long thick hair was a simple brown that blended well with her large brown eyes. She knew she was no exceptional beauty, she knew there where women out there with twice her beauty that were about half her size. She was what the men these days would call curvy. So she'd never squeeze into a tiny bikini , so she wore size 12 pants, that was OK. Emma knew her worth was not based on what the bathroom scale dictated or by what beauty she did or did not possess.
Emma drew back her attention into navigating the crowds of the large trendy plaza where she was currently employed at. She walked comfortably in her old beat up crocks and pulled out her phone and picked up her pace when she saw she was running later than what she thought. As it was right now she would only have about thirty minutes to mise en place instead of her usual forty five. Since the raving review of the restaurant was published in The New York Times, Appetite, had not had a slow night. She slipped her phone into the pocket of her baggy checkered pants and finished buttoning up her chefs coat. Her hair was already pulled back into a neat bun and her purse containing her hat dangled on off her shoulder. She navigated to the back of the restaurant to the employee entrance.
The sound of cooking could be heard, orders were being called out and the familiar adrenaline started coursing through her as most nights in anticipation of the dinner rush. She walked in quickly and tied a clean white sterile apron around her full hips and started inspecting her station. She was the only female employed in this notable restaurant, the rest of the stations had male cooks. It had not been easy to prove herself in a kitchen full of men but what she lacked in strength she made for up in speed and stubborn determination. She came in before the rest of the night shift and was always one of the last ones to leave.
She took a quick inventory of her station and headed towards the pantry and refrigerator to gather more product and set up for what she knew was going to be busy night. The night progressed without incident, the rhythmic dance of a kitchen taking its course. The printing of orders, the calling of commands, chopping, clanking of pots all mixing together to make a frenzied melodious harmony of what can only be of an efficient kitchen. Sweat dotted on her forehead as she platted the perfectly rare beef wellington on top of a small mound of creamy pommes puree. She was about to reach for the small sauté pan that contained the red wine reduction sauce when through the chaotic kitchen there sounded a load feral growl.
Her head, along with everyone else's drew up. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. A growl? There it was again, only this time it sounded a whole lot louder and a whole lot closer. The second growl was followed with a few shouts and clatter of dishes breaking. The swinging door connecting the busy kitchen with the elegant picturesque dining room flew open and there standing in the doorway stood the large man in the suit. His face was contorted with disbelief, his arms visibly shaking. He walked in slowly his bright blue eyes scanning the large kitchen until they settled on her. He held her stare and walked slowly forward in what can only be described as predatory prowl. A third growl erupted as he neared, and to her shock, it erupted from his lips. His face twisted in agony, his hands clenched at his side and after he growled for a fourth time he subsequently released a long howl. She broke out into a cold sweat. She was rooted to her station as he approached . His face knotted again almost loosing the shape of the handsome man into something dark and definitely sinister. She knew she should be backing away, plotting some defense but her brown eyes were transfixed by his, making her pathetically helpless. He wore his hair slightly disheveled, his chest rose and fell rhythmically as a result of his quick pants. She heard more footsteps entering the now silent kitchen, his entourage stood at the entrance of the kitchen, the blonde rooted along with them their wild eyes betraying their composed stances, all focusing on her. She glanced around the kitchen to seek her co-workers reactions. They stood at their stations heads turned down in what seemed to be an act of submission.
Her large brown eyes flew back to the large intruder her hands quickly patted her work station until her trembling fingers came into contact with a small parry knife. She brought it close to her abdomen and took a step back. His face contorted again this time morphing and sprouting patches of thick hair before shifting back into the face of the attractive man. Her breathing became uneven, her knees started to buckle and she could only hope that she was having a really bad nightmare. She continued her trembling steps back until her back bumped into someone else. She wheezed and turned, and was slightly relieved to see she had bumped into Patrick, the head chef of Appetite. His head was slightly bowed, but his eyes looked up connecting to hers. His usual brown eyes seemed unrecognizable, his eyes seemed to be glowing turning them to a bright caramel color.
"Emma, stay calm." Patrick softly spoke trying to ease her panic. He reached for her arms to turn her around to the morphing man but before he had a chance to settle a finger, a malicious growl warned him otherwise. Patrick lifted his hands in demonstration of his acknowledgment and slowly retreated keeping his palms raised up.
Emma turned to see the man staring intently at her.
"Emma" The man spoke, having heard Patrick refer to her as so. The sound of his low rough voice made a chill run up her spine.
"What are you?" She spoke, thinking more out loud than really intentionally asking.
A small cynical smile curved his thin lips. "I have been called many names in my long lifetime." He spoke silkily. "Lythanthrope, beast, demon.." He took a few steps closer placing him directly in front of her. "..loup-garou, werewolf, creature of the night, but for you my Emma, the only word I will be to you is mate."