A Howling Heart
Chapter one

He comes to me every night-a powerful dominance exuding from his sinewy frame, a tempting silhouette. I never see his face entirely. Just his eyes. Eyes that mirror that of an animal ready to pounce. "Fae." He says my name as he owns me. Possessively and hoarse, it draws me to him like he's where I belong.

Trembling, I respond with a mere whisper. "What are you?"

His lip curls upward as a low growl rumbles in his chest. "Your destiny."

The dream always ends the same. The feeling of power and a disturbing void that I can't seem to fill linger within me. And now that I've moved back to my mother's family home, I find this first night harder than I thought. It's probably the move, or I need to stop eating junk before bed.

Sweat coats my body, staining my sheets as my chest heaves rapidly. I peer up at my ceiling in the dark, praying the dancing shadows are figments of my imagination and not the nightmares come to life. It always feels so real.

I lift my arm, hissing at the heaviness still settled upon my body before I swipe my hand across my moist forehead, pushing my hair off my skin. I twist my head and reach for my phone to peer at the clock, groaning when I realize it's 3 am. Great. Not only do I get to move all the boxes later today because my mom's so sick she can't lift anything, I get to do it with no sleep too.

She refused to hire movers.

I climb out of bed, careful to be quiet as I trudge down the hallway past my mother's room, where I can hear her softly snoring, before I descend the stairs, the old wood creaking beneath my weight. My mom never talked about her hometown. I'm surprised we even moved back here. She always seemed like she was traumatized here.

Although, right now, we're strapped for cash because she's too sick to work, and I'm doing the best I can, bills have been stacking up, and when my aunt died, and this house was given to my mom, she really wasn't in a position to say no. When I reach the kitchen, I drag some fingers, wincing as they get caught in my curls. I haven't had time to stock the kitchen or anything, considering we both arrived here at 10 pm and it was too late to start moving things in, but we both managed to throw some bottles of water and snack foods in the fridge.

I really need to cool down.

I grab a bottle of water from the fridge, eyes moving along the poorly illuminated backyard through the kitchen window above the sink. As I swallow a cool gulp, it gets stuck in my throat, and I begin coughing when I see glowing eyes in the forest pointed in my direction.

What is that?

It must be a creature of some sort.

Wait... Those look exactly like the eyes from my dream...

I really must be losing it.

I lean forward, a death grip on the bottle in my hand as I squint to focus on them. Their glowing intensity makes the hairs along my body stand up, and my heart begins hammering in my chest.

That can't be a person though.

I shake my head. Although the voice attached to those eyes in my dream was human-like, they were the eyes of an animal.

Probably something wild.

A fox or something.

I shake my head, taking another swig of water, and when I turn my attention back to the woods, the eyes are gone, but the anxiousness remains.

I miss home.

This place will never feel like home. The frigid air in the New York mountains doesn't compare to the sunshine in Florida. I don't know how I'll fight off depression when to cope, my mind has already begun to play tricks on me.

Lord, help me.

***

After more restless sleep, aching bones, and enough sweat drenching me to fill a few gallons, I attempt to be productive the next morning. Mom's van is a run-down Mazda with chipped silver paint and the air of a woman on the brink of homelessness, but it gets the job done.

I'm startled when the smooth sound of a southern masculine drawl interrupts my change of thought. "Need some help?"

I spin around, the box is unlevel in my grip, as I set eyes on the stranger who's just startled me. An attractive, lean, tall olive-skinned man greets me with the brightest smile. His afro is perfectly styled, complimenting the sharp angles of his jaw. The box slips from my grasp, and he reaches for it, but I frown.

"Uh, thanks, but I think I can manage," I say, trying to thwart his efforts to help me. Unfazed by the rejection, the strange guy continues polite small talk.

"You sure? You're new to town?"

I don't know why I'm so on edge but after last night... I'm not sure I feel comfortable here.

I tighten my grip on the box and nod slowly.

"Yeah. We just got here last night."

I narrow my eyes as he nods and places his hand on his chest. "I'm sorry if I scared you. I'm Nate." Well, he seems like a nice guy.

Now I feel bad.

"I'm sorry for being short. Didn't sleep well last night. I'm Fae. This actually is my mom's hometown."

I don't know why I feel alarmed that I've relinquished that little fact, but there's no taking it back. His brows arch, and a grin spreads on his boyish face as he nods. "Oh wow. So what made her want to come back?"

Goodness... it could be anything.

Mainly because she's sick, but I'm not sure diving into our family's business is a smart idea.

"Actually, uh, I really have to get this stuff in. So I can't really talk," I reply, an obvious attempt to douse any friendly banter he wanted to engage in.

Lame and obvious. I'm not that good at confrontation or being rude for that matter...

Nate rubs the back of his neck with obvious tension in his shoulders as he chuckles awkwardly.

"Hey, I can take a hint. Not trying to bother ya. Just offering my help. I actually live down the road. My dad was friends with the woman who used to live here, Amanda." My aunt?

"Really? That was my aunt."

He nods and crosses his arms over his chest. "Yeah. They were pretty close. It's a shame about her."

I nod, my unease ebbing away the longer I talk to Nate.

"Yeah. Guess it runs in the family."

Oops... well it's too late now.

Shrugging, I try to downplay my next words as if I'm not dying inside at the fact I'm losing the only person worth a damn left in my life. "My mom's sick."

His face falls, a sympathetic furrow on his brows as he offers his condolences to me.

"Oh, I'm really sorry. That's pretty crappy."

"Yeah, you're telling me."

A few moments of awkward silence pass before Nate scratches at his brow and clears his throat. "Honestly, I don't mind helping you. I assume your mom's too sick to help."

I nod, hating the fact that my once vibrant and active mother is now reduced to a pale, withering frame. She's always been my rock, so to see her go from someone so free to so restricted by her physical ailments is completely heartbreaking. And the doctors don't know why....

That's what hurts the most.

She's slowly dying, and they don't know how to help her. Only how to reduce the amount of pain she's in. She's helpless. And so am I.

"I wouldn't want to be any trouble," I add, but the grin on his face says I would be the complete opposite.

He cocks his head sideways and shoots me a look like I'm being ridiculous before he turns and reaches for a box.

"It's all good. Besides, my dad would kill me if he knew I ran into you and didn't offer my help."

"Okay. Sure then."

"Good."

He follows behind me with a box in his hands as I move towards the front door. I'm unsure as to where my mother is probably sleeping.

I gesture for Nate to put his box down in the kitchen. When I set mine down in the hallway near the bathroom and turn around, I yelp when I almost run directly into his chest.

I didn't even hear him.

"Phew, you scared me."

"Sorry. Seems like a common theme with us." He gestures between us and cracks a smile to lighten the mood.

You're telling me.

I nod and take a few steadying breaths. When he steps back from me, you frown at the picture frame in his hand.

"Is this your mom?" He flips it over and points to an old picture of my mom. She had to be no older than 25, with some guy I'd never seen before. I frown, reaching out for it. "What are you doing with that?" My voice quivers with anger.

How dare he? He just feels cozy enough to go snooping through people's personal belongings. I didn't know that was part of offering help!

That's a little rude.

He stares intently down at the picture, and I swear I almost see the color of his eyes darken, but it's gone in an instant when he blinks and looks back up at me.

I take the frame out of his hands and frown.

"Sorry, I just saw it and thought your mom looked familiar."

"Familiar? How?" Curiosity beats in my chest like a drum, increasing in its pace until I'm shifting from foot to foot, waiting for an answer that he seems to be refusing to give me.

He doesn't answer me. Instead, he spins on his heel and saunters back out of the house. I follow him, with my jaw clamped shut as questions fill my head.

I hate that strangers seem to know more about my mother's past and history in this town than I do.

For all I know, she could have enemies here or something.

And I'm just letting them walk in.

I know my thoughts are ridiculous, fueled by the frustration of wanting to know in depth about where I came from. I suppress my frustration and follow him back out to the van.

"So where are you working," he asks casually while leaning against the van. My cheeks blaze with embarrassment.

"I actually haven't found a job yet. That was next on my list."

If I can even manage one.

And hopefully soon.

It seems I have trouble keeping a job.

"Why? Do you know of any," I press curiously, eyes widening as I step forward. Wait, Fae, this looks desperate...

I blink a few times and soften my face hoping that our money troubles aren't completely obvious.

He nods. "I actually have pretty good connections around here. I have a friend who's looking for someone to take care of his uncle."

"Oh really? What's the matter with him?"

"He's very ill. At this point, it's just a waiting game. Would you be interested?"

That's hitting a little close to home...

"The pay's good, and the schedule is flexible," Nate adds, hitting all the key points of why it would fit well with me. With Mom being as sick as she is, I need to be able to have days off if she's very weak. How can I turn that down? It's too good to be true.

"That sounds nice," I admit, finally giving him the most genuine smile I pull onto my face.

At least I'll have a job.

"Some semblance of normal would be great."

He laughs deeply and nods. "Don't worry about it. I could text you later today with the address and time, and you could just roll over there and check it out."

"I don't even know what to say. I really appreciate that, Nate. You don't know how much this helps."

Nate shrugs as he begins carrying another box to my house. "I'm a nice guy."

"Yes, you are."

Although, in my experience, nice guys tend to have ulterior motives.