“Certainly not,” says the vampire, somehow maintaining his polite, if irritated, manner.
With a grunt, Farkas turns his back on us. He and the rest of the pack prepare to take to the woods for the rest of the night. I cast a victory glance at my tour guide and watch as he saunters toward me. Up close, his blue eyes sparkle like lapis lazuli. He’s several inches taller but somehow manages not to look down on me.
“Thank you for offering your assistance.” A sincere smile reveals a tantalizing glimpse of his fanged canines. “I cannot follow the trail on my own. Your expertise will be invaluable, and afterward, I will owe you a debt.”
Snickers erupt from nearby pack members who overheard, but for once, I don’t let them bother me. I’m itching to leave.
I meet the vampire’s gaze. “I’ll do my best. No payment required.”
He gestures toward the valley, where the villagers live. “Shall we?”
My excitement turns heavy as I realize what must happen next. The change must show on my face because his expression reflects concern.
I make sure not to sound as choked up as I feel. “There’s one thing I need to do first. It won’t take long.”
Chapter 2
“Of course, whatever you need,” says the vampire. “Can I help?”
He really can’t. The thought of saying goodbye to Ava hardens my soft heart to stone, but I’ve always known that to be free of this pack would mean losing her in the bargain. “No, but don’t worry. I’ll be quick.”
“You don’t need to rush.” He glances at the other wolves still milling around, their wary gazes not exactly welcoming. “But could I tag along? I seem to have overstayed my welcome in your”—he scans our shabby, overgrown common area—“town square?”
The urge to laugh briefly overcomes my sadness about the task ahead. “Town square” is rather generous for what’s little more than an untamed garden between rundown huts.
“This way.” I lead him past the circling wolves. Has Ava ever met a vampire? In all our years together, it’s never occurred to me to ask.
“What’s your name?” He pitches his voice low, but I know the others will still be able to hear us.
“Mongrel,” I say through clenched teeth because it’s not worth asking him to call me by my real name. If I do end up back here, I’ll be teased for having made the request.
“I can’t call you that.” He looks genuinely appalled, his eyebrows nearly meeting in the middle.
I quicken our pace to get out of eavesdropping distance. “Why not?”
He keeps up easily enough, trotting along behind me. “It’s…unkind.”
I manage a shrug, though my stomach quivers. “It’s what I am.”
“But it’s notallyou are.” He talks with his hands, gesturing to insist on his point. “For instance, I’m not called Muck-Spout because I swear a lot. Though I do swear a lot, mind you.” He raises an elegant finger with its neatly manicured nail at nothing in particular. “I’m called Bowie because that’s my name, and I’d like to know yours.”
I don’t answer. My head is crammed full of racing thoughts, a jumbled tangle that shuts down my ability to continue the conversation.
It occurs to me, as the vampire—Bowie—follows, that I’m naked, while he’s fully dressed. My tail hides the crack of my bottom, but I’m still presenting him with a view of my ass while we climb the path to Ava’s.
Though modesty isn’t a common trait among shifters and certainly not me, a flicker of self-consciousness lifts the fur along my spine. Before I can overthink it, I shift back to the comfort of the animal form, slower this time so it doesn’t hurt.
“All right. Don’t ask for your name. Duly noted,” says Bowie, unruffled as he hurries to catch up.
As my paws hit the dirt, the bashful feeling recedes, leaving a messy pile of emotions in its wake: the exciting possibility of freedom, fear of the unknown, a tingle of nervous energy that tightens my throat when Bowie watches me.
I don’t pause to sort this out; it’s safer to ignore the turmoil until I’m alone. Instead, I focus on Ava. What should I say to her when this could be goodbye?
“That was truly spectacular. I’ve never witnessed a werewolf shift before, and now I’ve seen you do it twice. I’ll admit to a fair bit of jealousy on the matter. Contrary to superstition, I cannot transform myself into a bat. Or even mist. What must it feel like?”
Since he’s handling the conversation for both of us, I’m free to wonder what being stuck in only one form might be like. Though a form like Bowie’s—tall and slender with lean-muscled shoulders and thighs—might not be so bad. I, on the other hand, am the normal shape as a wolf. But on two legs, I’m too short. Too much wolf and not enough human to have attained average height. Smaller than the others when in human form, scrawny, with fur along my spine from nape to tail, pointy-tufted ears, and fanged incisors that must rival any vampire’s. Since I can’t pass for human, I’m left with only other wolves for company, and they decided I was a freak long ago.
Bowie’s stare is different. His eyes shine with interest rather than disdain. He’s playful rather than mocking, at least for now. I glance away. Best not set my expectations of him any higher than basic toleration. Even that is more than what I’m used to.
