“I think I’m going to go inside.”
“Can I do anything?” I was incredibly worried. I’d never seen Jules like that before.
“No,” he said sharply. “Just stay here. I’m not feeling . . . I think I should be by myself.”
He went inside, and once he’d closed the door, I leaned over and scented where he’d sat on the bench. He didn’t smell sick. He smelled different, but not sick. Definitely not sick. The way he smelled made my dick unspeakably hard.
Jesus,I thought,I am the definition of an asshole.
I went for a walk around the cabin. I made a wide circle around it and for reasons only my wolf understood, now and then, I stopped and pissed against the trunk of a tree. When I was positive Jules was asleep, I went into the cabin. I slept on the sofa, with an old crocheted throw over me, so as not to disturb him. I slept fitfully, disturbed by the sound of Jules tossing and turning. I woke a couple of times to the sound of him thrashing his legs and whimpering softly like a dog having a bad dream.
Later in the night, or really, in the early hours of the morning, I heard him moaning. Groaning. I heard the elastic of his boxers snapping against his belly, and the rustling of sheets. I knew what he was doing. I heard a soft sigh as his hand started to move. I curled up into a ball with my hands over my ears, trying to block the sound out. It was a futile attempt to respect his privacy and protect my sanity. I failed on both counts.
When he came, the scent of his pleasure filled the room. The purple haze of it wafted over every part of my body. Caressing and teasing me. Tormenting me as the fine tendrils of it wove their way around my limbs, around my throat, and finally up my nostrils and deep into my brain. I lay curled up on the sofa in the greatest agony you could ever imagine. I tried not to move until morning. Instead, I listened to the sound of his heartbeat and mine.
Two restless hearts beating in the dark.
“I’m going for a run,” Jules said, pulling his laces tight. By that point, running as a human struck me as an odd thing to do, but I decided not to say anything about it. “I need fresh air, I think.”
“I’ll come, too.”
“Um, no, I want to go by myself.”
His words stung unbelievably. I felt peculiar, almost panicked, at the thought of being away from him. For a mad second, I considered shifting and tracking him. I had the presence of mind to know I didn’t want to addstalkerto my ever-growing list of flaws, so I forced myself not to.
Instead, I got dressed, noting with mild concern that my T-shirt was straining beyond the point I considered decent. It was embarrassingly tight across my chest and the sleeves rode up my arms in a failed effort to contain my biceps. I’d grown again. This time in bulk, not in height. It was the last thing I needed. More shopping. More trouble trying to find clothes that fit me.
I tried not to think about it and decided to head outside to chop some wood. I found the axe Jules had used the day before leaning against the porch. I set a large piece of wood onto one of the seating logs around the fire pit. I stepped back and raised the axe up over my head. I brought it down gently, consciously exerting little effort. After what had happened with the coffee mug, I knew I’d need to take precautions because of my strength. Evidently, I didn’t moderate my force enough. As I brought the axe down, it sliced through the wood I was chopping like butter, without any resistance. Not only that, it sliced clear through the thick, heavy log we’d been using as seating, too.
After that, I decided it might be best for me to read for a while. Jules was out for most of the day. At lunch time, I fried some bacon and left it on the windowsill, hoping the smell would tempt him to come home. No luck. It was dusk by the time he came back. By that point, I was almost beside myself.
“Are you all right? You’ve been gone all day. I didn’t know if I should come and look for you.”
“I’m fine,” he snapped. His tone was very unlike him, and his hair was disheveled. His eyes were darker than usual. He was not in a good way.
“Do you want to eat something? I made bacon.”
“I already ate.”
The thought of him hunting without me upset me but I couldn’t think of a way to discuss it that wouldn’t make me come across as clingy, so I didn’t mention it. We sat in silence for a long time. At least for me, it wasn’t our usual, comfortable silence. I felt tense and awkward.
“Tried chopping wood,” I said, motioning to the seating log that was now separated into two near-perfect semicircles.
“Told you you didn’t know your own strength.” He didn’t smile at me exactly, but he snorted a quick blast of air through his nose, and it felt like a passable attempt at a display of amusement.
“Are you okay?” I tried again. “I was pretty worried about you last night. And today.”
His shoulders slacked and he looked down at his feet. “Sully, I—I think I’m in heat.” He said it so softly, I almost didn’t hear him.
“What? I mean, how?”
He gave an exaggerated shrug and raised his eyebrows at me in irritation. “How the fuck should I know?”
“Maybe it’s just a shifting thing, ’cause, like, I’ve been pretty horny, too.”
He glared at me for a long, tense moment and then the lines around his mouth softened, and he sighed quietly. “I’ve noticed.”
“So, maybe it’s a normal shifting thing, right?”
