A glut of compliments were showered upon me during the evening, mostly from people I'd never met. Maintaining the pretence of appreciation quickly drained my energy, yet oddly, I would've welcomed Marrok's congratulations. His parents had fawned plenty over me, but other than a fleeting glimpse earlier, the delectable Marrok was nowhere to be seen. Had he grown bored with all the pomp and circumstance and preferred the luxury of leather seats in a flashy car? Did that car include one of his fanbase groupies? A soupcon of envy caressed that last consideration and I quickly shooed it away with a slug of champagne. Ugh! 

Three waiters holding salvers of drinks and canapes had been deftly threading their way between guests since the announcement. As one passed near, I grabbed another glass from his tray. My lips curled at the edges; champagne wasn't to my liking, and why I continued to persevere with it, I didn't know. It was nothing more than expensive carbonated grape juice, which I nicknamed 'snobby bubbles'. But it was the chosen libation for such gatherings. A Budweiser would have suited me better, but I didn't see any at the drinks table, but I knew where some would be stashed.

I slipped into the kitchen and once closed, I leaned back against the door, relieved to have escaped all the fuss and frivolity, albeit for a few moments. Undoubtedly, at least one of my parents would seek me out when they noted that their Heir had gone AWOL. With a huff, I tipped the champagne into the sink and made for the fridge. The inner light spilt over my dress and shoes as I checked the shelves for my favourite tipple. Much to my delight, I found a few bottles huddled at the back and they rattled as I picked one up. 

"Don't suppose I could have one?" A mellow voice from a short distance away startled me.

I leaned back to see who'd spoken. Marrok! Even in the semi-dark, I could see every contour of his handsome face; the smooth brow framed by a head of glorious black hair, the straight nose, full lips, dimpled chin and startling green eyes. I suddenly felt flustered, the cool air from the fridge doing nothing to alleviate the blush rising from my neck. "Bud, OK?" My voice sounded pathetically weak, and I gave myself a quiet reprimand.

"Sure." Marrok walked towards me until he, too, was bathed in the fridge's light. 

I plucked the magnetised bottle opener from the fridge door, opened a beer, and handed it to him, relieved to see my hand only had the slightest of tremors. I didn't want him to see how nervous I was. "What are you doing in here, anyway?" I blurted out simultaneously cringing at my accusatory tone.

He smiled wanly and looked at the floor. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm not the world's most comfortable party guest."

His confession surprised me, for I'd imagined such an event would've been right up his street. I felt guilty for sounding so incensed at his presence in the kitchen. "Me neither," I said quickly, popping the cap off another Bud and putting the bottle to my lips.

Marrok laughed, light. "It's your party, though." He took a swig of beer.

"Not really. It was my parents' idea to hold this soirée. It's not my kinda thing at all." I closed the fridge, and the room was once more in darkness. Granted, my blushes were now concealed, but I realised it wasn't the best idea to be standing in the dark, so I moved away to switch on the spots running under the cabinets.

"What! You can't afford proper lighting?" Marrok joked.

I smirked, a little flustered, but as usual, I had a retort. "Well, I can get the spare chandelier dusted and hung up if you prefer." Unfortunately, that also came out snarky. I hated myself right then. I wasn't normally so edgy with boys, but something about Marrok made me a bumbling idiot.

He was quiet for a moment, his eyes searching my face, no doubt thinking what an ungracious hostess I was, but then he laughed. And so did I. What little tension there had been between us dissipated, and finally I relaxed, relieved to be away from the rabble and enjoying a simple beer.

"You did well out there when the announcement was made," he said, nodding toward the big hall. "I'd have been mortified with it all."

"I doubt that very much. From what I've heard, you are very confident and seem at ease with lots of attention."

"Bah! Not at all. It's a facade. I can't stand it, to be honest." I was even more surprised; my face must have shown it, for Marrok suddenly apologised for his audacity. "I didn't mean to be impolite," he finished, a little uncertainty creeping into his voice.

"No, it's OK. I didn't think you were impolite at all, even though rudeness tends to be the privilege of us rich kids." I smirked.

"Oh, I'm not exactly rich either," he said, gesturing with open arms. "My dad does well, don't get me wrong. The family home is very comfortable, and he's provided well for us, but... it's been a long haul for him. I'm no longer dependent, certainly, as I support myself, but I know he still does all he can to ensure my mum and I have a good life."

Every word he spoke astonished me. Had I read the Daniels family wrong? "Really? I assumed you all came from a wealthy background like us." Marrok appeared genuinely awkward, his eyes darting everywhere but avoiding me. Then I realised how insufferably pompous I'd sounded and felt ashamed of myself. "Listen, being rich isn't all it's made out to be; honestly, it has its own set of problems—some really big ones, too. But I'm sorry; I didn't mean to offend you. I was being an ass." I wanted the ground to open and swallow me.

"No! No, you're not, Bria. And you didn't offend - honestly. But, I may as well admit another fact  while we're peeling back the layers  of the Daniels family..."

Now, he felt he had to justify his very presence. "Look, I didn't mean...there's no need..." I held up my hands in an apology.

"Yes! There is." Marrok took a deep breath before continuing. It looked like he was about to bare his soul. "Unlike your folks, Bria, mine weren't born into the way of the wolf. A chance encounter when they'd initially settled in Greece resulted in my parents being bitten. They were left for dead. A colony of werewolves in the hills found them, and they aided their recovery."

I was stunned. I'd believed the Daniels were purebreds, and from my parents' opinion of them, so did they. Although this wolf revelation meant nothing to me, it nevertheless put a different light on matters. Raif had given the entire community the impression he and his family were all genetically lupine, which, to me, was deceptive. I wasn't sure how to respond. Perhaps it was best to empathise, at least to begin with. I couldn't believe I was about to play along with the whole pretence."I'm so sorry. I take it the attackers were of a different pack to those who helped your parents?" 

"Yes. They said there was a rogue element which had been picking off tourists and new settlers for years. They'd tried to deal with them time and again, but they kept slipping out from under them. Anyway, in time, I came onto the scene and I was born with the Canis genes; I'm therefore recognised as the first Esoterik werewolf bearing my family's name." 

I sipped my beer, still uncertain what to think. I'd hoped Marrok was like me in that he didn't buy all the werewolf nonsense, but it sounded as though he was a believer. "That's quite a story," I said holding his gaze, trying to assess if he was having me on, spinning a yarn.

"My folks would be mad as hell if they knew I'd told that to anyone," he said, sighing deeply.

"Mines would be madder still if I told you my thoughts about the whole werewolf thing." It was out before I knew it. I bit my bottom lip; perhaps I'd said too much. Marrok looked at me questioningly. 

Silence slipped in between us, and then tension built again.  But, I gathered as he'd been honest with me, I should be the same with him. I knew it might ruin any chance I had to be more than just an acquaintance, but I needed to speak about it to someone. I hoped Marrok might understand - better than my mainstream friends would, anyway. I took a deep breath. "I don't believe that I'm a werewolf. I don't believe in any of this."

"What?" Shit! I'd guessed wrong. Mr Delicious didn't understand after all. He was clearly stunned. I knew then I'd fucked up big time. 

"Never mind," I said, thumping my Budweiser down on the counter, annoyed with myself for daring to believe he might understand.

"Oh, don't worry, I won't say anything." He reached out and touched my arm, reassuringly. "But, why don't you believe?"

Was he really giving me a chance to redeem myself? Would he attempt to sway me, just like my parents did? Perhaps he was genuine. Foolishly or not, I decided to continue with my confession. My parents knew how I felt; I'd told them often enough. Granted, I'm sure they keep it quiet from fellow wolfies, but I need someone to really listen to me." Marrok nodded and waited for me to continue. "I've never seen any evidence, neither from my parents or any of their friends, and I... I haven't..." I was bumbling trying to explain.

"You haven't transformed, have you?" he said. There was no judgment or mockery in his voice, just a genuine enquiry - perhaps peppered with a soupcon of pity, but I wasn't going to jump to yet another wrong conclusion.

"No. I haven't" I admitted. "And that's why..."

"You find all of this complete nonsense."

I nodded. He was good at finishing my sentences, for sure.

He smiled—such a smile it was, too. "So did I, Bria. Once," he disclosed, " Until my first transformation. Before that, I thought my folks and the Greeks who helped them were loons." He laughed. It sounded so refreshing, so genuine.

"You've honestly changed into a werewolf, then?" I ventured, still reluctant to accept, yet somehow, I felt he was being utterly level with me. He nodded. I think I melted a little at that point. I found his company more delightful than I'd imagined and I offered him another beer, wanting him to tell me more.

"I won't lie," he continued, seeming to have relaxed again, almost as if he too, was thankful for the conversation. "It's terrifying and painful the first time. But it does become easier the more often you change."

I glanced over my shoulder. Noise from beyond the kitchen hinted that my absence had been noted. Shit! Great timing!

"You're wanted," Marrok said as he pointed to the door. I was sure I saw a look of disappointment in his eyes - or perhaps I was just hopeful. 

"So it seems," I huffed. " I'd better go. But look, if you want to stay in here, away from all the nonsense, feel free. There's plenty more beer if you want it."

"Thanks, but I should show face too. Don't imagine my dad will be too pleased to learn I've been raiding the Heir's beer stock."

I laughed a little. It turned out that Marrok wasn't as beyond my reach as I'd first thought. He seemed pretty down to earth, and he'd told me his family's 'secret', not something you'd typically bring into the mix on a first meeting. Still, lovely though he was, I wasn't prepared to go through any bonding ritual for a long time yet. No, I hoped to savour the experience, to learn more about him and spend some more time together. 

I finished my beer, disposed of the bottle in the bin for glass waste and turned to leave.

"I take it you won't be looking forward to the transformation ceremony then?" Marrok asked, downing the last of his second Bud.

I stopped, dead. "The what?" I turned to face him, my voice betraying a nervous whisper.

"Yeah, I overheard my dad say there would be a point where you would be expected to show everyone what Ishtar's grandiose form looks like."

Every fluid ounce of blood sank to my toes. There was to be some puerile display of fur and fangs? I'd known nothing about this. Furthermore, I strongly objected to Mr Daniels's deciding what would happen at my inauguration. My demeanour quickly changed. I was incensed. Livid. Standing straight, I faced my delectable guest with a newfound resolve, one which oddly implied I was a believer after all. "I find it strange that a mere lycanoid - one bitten instead of being born a werewolf - thinks he can decide what will happen this evening, especially considering the appointee is a direct descendant of the Goddess Ishtar. Your father has overstepped the line, Marrok. I will be performing no party tricks, I can assure you."

Marrok's mouth fell open. I don't think he expected such a feisty retort, especially as we seemed to be getting along rather well just minutes beforehand. He was mumbling an apology, but I no longer wished to be in his company. I stormed out of the room, with a new fire burning within.

******

Word Count: 2250

Running Total: 12,455

Do you think Marrok is genuine? Is Bria over-reacting?