My wolf reacts like she licked my throat.
I swallow. “Sorry. I’ll behave.”
“Come on, Human-Jason.”
She steps back, and I step inside. I take in her place, not because it’s the natural thing to do when you’re supposedlyseeing the inside of a person’s home for the first time, but because in wolf form everything looks more intense, like the world is on steroids, each sense trying to out-win the next. I find I like seeing it through my shifter eyes. The muted tones of beige and pale yellow suit her, and I wonder who helped her decorate.
“So, where do we start?”
“I think the kitchen would be best.” There’s a smile in my voice when I tease her.
“Haha, very funny.”
I follow her to the kitchen, trying hard not to stare at her perfect ass. Let’s hope I do better at cooking, I watched a ton of cooking videos in preparation for this. How to cut, how to sauté. Thankfully, as a shifter, I don’t need a lot of sleep.
“Okay, so what do we do first?”
“I’d like to see how you do in the kitchen before I try to reinvent the wheel. Let’s get the ingredients organized. Supposing you have them, that is?” I need to be more careful about what I say. I can’t let on that I know exactly what she has in the fridge.
“As it happens, I do. I bought double of everything so I could make it for my friend and Meemaw if it worked out. Which we now know it didn’t. It’s still bizarre that you want to teach me how to make beef bourguignon. The universe must know I desperately need help with that one.”
“Sometimes strange things happen,” I squeak out. Lying to Violet is not easy, and it doesn’t sit well with me. Violet mistakes my voice mishap with thirst.
“How rude of me, I didn’t offer you a drink. What can I get you?”
“Water is fine, thank you.”
She carefully takes a glass out of the cupboard and hooks her level indicator to the glass. The beeping sound when the glass is nearly full grates through my anxiety. I need to calm down,or she’ll sense something is off. When she hands me the glass, I take a healthy gulp. My hands are sweating, but my mouth is dry. Go figure.
I set the glass on the table away from where it can be bumped and head to the sink to wash my hands. Violet comes over to me and does the same. It’s nice having her next to me, doing something so normal. When we’re done, I lean against the counter. “Right, shall we get those ingredients?”
“Sounds good to me.”
I stand back and watch her take the ingredients from the fridge and line them up in the order they will be cooked. I’ve noticed she’s got a great memory, but I’m still impressed with how much information she retains all the time.
She finds her knife drawer with confident, practiced movements. My chest tightens as I watch her set up.
“Let’s see how you chop the ingredients,” I say, grabbing the chopping board from behind the faucet and placing it in front of her. “We’ll start with the aromatics.”
She grabs her antiquated chopping thing out of her drawer, and I’m tempted to take it from her and shove it in the bin. The tines on the cutter have bent in all sorts of directions, which makes whatever she’s cutting come out in weird chunks or paper-thin slices. Not at all conducive to even cooking.
The urge to guide her hand is almost overpowering, but I don’t want to spook her during the first lesson, so she doesn’t want more.
“So, what happened last night?” It feels deceptive to ask her something I already know the answer to, but I’m interested to see if she will share with me what she shared with Dog-Jason.
“I was a tad overconfident and had a few mishaps. Jason scored a bunch of beef when I mistook the floor for the bowl.”
Warmth rushes through me. She’s so fucking incredibly brave.
“So, how did you become involved with the program?” she asks, nimbly changing the subject.
I’m equally relieved and disappointed she didn’t share everything she had last night. It’s stupid that I want her to trust me enough to open up to me but at the same time, I’m glad she doesn’t tell simply anyone her deepest vulnerabilities. I go into the lie I concocted in case she asked the question, and she listens intently.
We talk about the sanctuary and how much joy she’s found in going there, which makes me feel even more like a dick, because there are people out there doing good, and here I am, lying my ass off.
“Weird, Jason’s awfully quiet today.” She looks around the kitchen like she can see. It must be instinct.
My wolf still freezes.
