“What is it?” he whispers.
“Shh.” I touch my ear.
He stays quiet and listens with me.
Sure enough, other animals scurry around the carrion. Little do they know one of them will be my supper.
“I’ll be quick.” I take off my satchel, then yank my shirt over my shoulders. My shoes and pants I’ll easily leap out of as I shift, but the shirt could tangle me up. I stuff it into the satchel. Bowie watches. I hand him the bag. “Collect my things for me?”
A smooth nod. “Of course.”
“No need to wait. I’ll catch up.”
“All right. Good luck. Happy killing.” He says this jokingly. I think.
I roll my neck and let the animal surge to the fore. With hardly any effort, as the full moon is on my side, I grant the wolf control over my limbs. The shift ripples through me from toes to snout, a change so natural I ease into the fur and fury with joyous anticipation. The forest calls to my soul with each screech of an owl, every creak of a tree branch, and all the crunching of dried leaves beneath my paws as I leave Bowie behind and race to my dinner.
I think of the vampire neatly folding the clothes I’ve left crumpled on the ground and hope he doesn’t snoop in my bag. A grown wolf explaining a child’s rag doll isn’t something I look forward to. I can already see the amusement in his glittering gaze.
We’ve only just met, but I like Bowie. I like the way he speaks to me as if I’m his equal and he respects my time. I like the warm tingling feeling I get in my stomach when his eyes are on me. And I like the way his hands move as if he isn’t thinking of them at all, yet they’re perfectly in tune, communicating his thoughts alongside his words.
What am I thinking? He’s dangerous, and I don’t actually know him. With a full-body shake, ruffling my fur into place, I focus on my prey.
Definitely a raccoon that’s found an easy meal, and now I’ve found him. I sit low on my haunches, ready for the attack, muscles coiled and eager to pounce. The scent of fresh blood in the air whets my appetite. Saliva fills my jowls. A feast at last. My feast.
I leap.
Chapter 4
Itrot back to Bowie with a full stomach and clean fur. I’ve taken a dip in a chilly creek not far from our path. Though my coat’s wet, underneath, my skin remains dry. When I shift, only my hair will stay damp.
Approaching from behind, I can tell when Bowie senses my presence. His stance is more casual when he thinks he’s alone. When observed, his body snaps to attention, straightening, shoulders back—not tense, exactly, but not relaxed either.
I don’t hurry to. Rather I enjoy the slight sway in his hips, the arch in his spine under his tightly fitted frock, the way his hair hangs in waves down his back. He’s nice to look at.
“I know you’re back there,” Bowie croons, his rich tenor quiet but clear.
I give a little yip in response. I’m not ready to shift yet. It feels too good being a wolf with the moon’s glow on my back and the cool night air drying my fur. I catch up and walk at his side.
“Have any luck?” he asks, though he must know the answer. He’d have heard the raccoon’s squeal just before I broke its neck.
I flick my chin to indicate yes, I was successful at dinner, thank you. He grins as if he’s heard the words from my mind. I wonder if he’s hungry and how he eats if he doesn’t kill. A question for later. One nice thing about being a wolf is that I can’t be expected to hold a conversation, and sometimes, it’s nice to have that break.
The road has widened again, joined with another coming up from the south. Trees line either side and reach across the divide, nearly forming a tunnel of leafy branches.
It must be midnight by now. I’m curious where we’re headed and how we’ll go about gathering information when most humans will be asleep by this hour.
We’re close to the pasturelands and villager settlements that dot the landscape before reaching Varad proper. I’ve been here before, though Farkas forbids it. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt me. I would simply tuck my tail into my pants and pull my woolen hat over my flattened ears to blend in. Though not comfortable, it always does the trick. As long as I’m careful, no one is the wiser, and I’m usually able to find some companionship, however brief, among strangers.
Bowie is watching me again. I feel his gaze like the fizzling of the air as a summer storm approaches, tingling and warm. I glance up.
“Shall I fill you in on the plan for tonight?”
I huff-snort, and his grin returns.
“We’re going to my sister’s estate. Catherine is expecting me, and she’ll be waiting up. You’re safe with them if you’d prefer your human form, or this one is fine, but it’s up to you. Don’t pay any heed to what I said to Farkas. I’ll not dictate your choices.”
That’s a relief, though I’d expected as much. Bowie isn’t the controlling type. I’m overly familiar with assholes, and Bowie just isn’t one.
