“My wolf voice.”
A cute little wrinkle appeared between her eyes. Maybe he’d crossed the line into quibbling semantics, but it did matter. No one in the pack called the growls and howls anextravoice. She wanted to get the facts right, so he would ensure she did.
Willow nodded and said, “Okay, is that it?”
“Yeah. Oh, we don’t really catch diseases, if that counts.”
Her eyes widened. “Um, yeah, it counts. That’s amazing.”
Maybe it was. Having not been ill since before his first change, it was an easy thing to take for granted.
“Does the community out there know about you? They must, if you’re telling me already.”
Now here was the sticky part. Ezra nodded. “They know.”
“All of them? Oh, they’d have to, I guess, if you’re disappearing once a month….” Only as she spoke the words did they seem to register in her brain. Her mouth fell open, and for a long moment she looked like a cartoon version of herself. “You turn into a wolf.”
For the first time since he’d told her, a flicker of anxiety lit her scent. He nodded. He had worked out how much he could tell her without revealing anyone else—well, anyone besides Nathan, who’d voiced his consent at the fair, outside Willow’s hearing. But for the moment Ezra waited, let her think, let her decide what to ask next.
Finally she said, “Do you remember it? Being…bloodthirsty?”
“Wild, territorial, dangerous, yes. But I’m not frantic for blood, Willow. Not rabid.”
“Oh.” She thought a long moment. “And you remember having…fur, and all that?”
“Yeah.”
He had to stop thinking every new answer he gave would be the one to send her running, but it was hard. She didn’t know she was fated to be with him, didn’t know she could trust him. And even when she knew, the choice would remain with her. He wouldn’t change the way of things, would never take her choice, yet his heart pounded and his chest began to squeeze as Willow sat quietly beside him, brow furrowed.
“It doesn’t seem to bother you,” she said at last.
“I’ve never hurt anyone.”
“You’d remember if you did.”
“Right.”
“Where do you go? Is there like…a safehouse or something? A—a cell?” She shuddered.
“There’s a paddock. I wear a collar connected to a super-juiced invisible fence.”
More pondering. So many quiet pauses while Willow considered what he said. “And it’s out there, on Lunar Lane? This paddock?”
He nodded.
“So once a month you take yourself there and put a collar on, and then in the morning you’re human again—I mean, in human form, this form—” She gestured at him, her cheeks reddening, self-directed frustration rising in her scent.
“It’s all right, Willow. And yes. The change lasts from sunset to sunrise on the night the moon comes full. In the morning I take the collar off, go home, sleep and shower.” He smiled, tried to show her the conversation was okay, that even her blunders were okay as long as she made them out of a true attempt to understand.
“Shower? What, do you smell like a canine after?”
A rumble filled his chest when mortification took over her scent again. She was trying not to offend, trying to filter her thoughts.
“Are you laughing when you growl like that?”
“That time I was. And you guessed right—I smell like a dog the next day, even my breath until I brush my teeth.”
“Huh. I guess that makes sense.” She shrugged, and then the thoughtful crinkle returned between her eyes. “And every wolf belongs to a pack, right? You’re not alone at the paddock?”
