The transformation had gone just like so many others had. It was routine now, preparing himself for the change. He and his mother prepared in their own ways, and he would ignore the looks that she was shooting him. She would kiss him on the cheek and wish him luck, and then she was gone. It had been the same way ever since the first transformation that he could remember.
This one was no different as he woke up in his confined space, dirty and broken. The sun seemed impossibly bright, and he blinked until it was something he could handle. He couldn't stay there long, and his human fingers unlocked the door that the wolf's paws couldn't. His clothes were outside, and he pulled on his trousers and a shirt, ignoring the best he could the pain in his arm. The wolf wanted to rip and tear and kill, and Mason wouldn't let it, so it tore at itself. The scratches weren't deep, but they were dirty and bloody.
He returned home, but he wasn't there long before he had stormed out. Exhausted and overwhelmed, Mason found himself heading to the only other place he could go. He had received several odd looks, but no one said anything to him - it was that kind of neighborhood. Mason was on Ainsley's floor when the vampire's door opened.
He jumped in surprise, but forced himself to remember that Ainsley's sense of smell was akin to the wolf's. It was no wonder he'd known he was coming. He took a few steps forward, but left ample room between them. He thought nothing of his bloody shirt as he lifted his hands in defeat.