His ears lift slightly, head tilting as he catches my scent. Recognition flashes in his eyes, pale even in wolf form, striking against his silver-tipped fur.
I take a slow step forward. Then another. He doesn’t move, just watches me approach with that same careful wariness. When I’m maybe ten feet away, I sit. Wait. Let him decide.
The silence stretches between us, filled only with the soft whisper of wind through pine branches and our breathing misting in the cold air. I’m happy I’ve run across him in wolf form because he appears more confident. Self-assured. I love seeing him this way. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable, but he’s such a beautiful wolf, I have trouble not staring.
Then, slowly, Jude takes a step toward me. Then another. His body language is still cautious, but the fear has faded into something else. Curiosity, maybe? The recognition between us pulses in a way I don’t fully understand, but I like it. I like feeling connected to him, even though I’m not sure why that feels so good.
When he’s close enough, I stand and turn, looking back at him over my shoulder. An invitation.
Come with me. Run with me.
He hesitates, and I can see the war in his body language. The desire to run battling with the instinct to stay isolated, to keep himself separate. He’s not a part of my pack, and that probably makes him wary.
I take a few steps away, then pause. Look back again.
Trust me. You’re safe with me.
Something in his posture shifts. He shakes himself once, as if throwing off doubt, and then he’s moving toward me. Not cautious anymore, but deliberate.
I wait until he’s beside me, close enough that our fur almost touches. Then I take off.
He follows.
We run through the forest together. I’ve run with my pack countless times, but this is different. It’s intensely personal.This is just us, two wolves moving in sync, finding each other’s rhythm without effort. I’ve never run with just one wolf before. I’ve never wanted to. But I like being alone with Jude, just the two of us in the middle of the night.
Jude is fast, faster than me in straight sprints, his smaller build giving him speed I can’t match. But I’m stronger, better at navigating obstacles, at choosing paths through dense underbrush. We complement each other, and somehow that knowledge just makes me more excited.
I lead us toward pack territory, testing. I want him to trust me. I watch his reaction as we cross the invisible boundary marked by my pack’s scent. He tenses briefly, but I nuzzle his shoulder. He meets my gaze, his eyes like brilliant blue ice. I growl and turn, pressing forward into pack territory with confidence. After a moment, he follows. The emotions that rush through me when he does that are almost overwhelming. He’s proving to me that he trusts me, and it makes me feel like a god.
The pack land is quiet tonight. We have this space to ourselves. I lead Jude along familiar trails, showing him one place that I especially love. It’s a ridge that overlooks the valley. I come here when I’m stressed. For some reason, seeing such a wide stretch of land settles me. It reminds me how vast this place is, how old and solid. Up here, anything that feels like a threat in my human life shrinks down to something small and insignificant. I think Jude needs that sort of grounding. I’m hopeful he’ll appreciate this place and the serenity it offers.
I’m enjoying his company so much, at one point, I pounce on him, inviting play. He startles at first, then retaliates by dodging and nipping at my shoulder. I growl happily as we tumble through the snow, mock-fighting, all playfulness and no real aggression. He may be smaller than me, but he’s very quick.His teeth catch my ear and I yelp, more surprised than hurt, and he seems pleased with himself.
We run for what feels like hours. Through clearings and dense forest, across frozen streams and up snowy hillsides. Sometimes side by side, sometimes chasing each other, sometimes just existing in the same space. The moon tracks across the sky, and neither of us wants to stop. But eventually, we both start to slow. The run can’t last forever, even though part of me wishes it could.
We end up back near where we started. Jude is panting hard, his sides heaving, but there’s a contentment in his body language that wasn’t there before. My heart squeezes with pride because I was able to coax him into a run with me. He enjoyed it as much as me, I can tell. The run strengthened the mystifying bond we already seem to share.
I move closer, pressing my muzzle briefly against his soft, furry neck. My body warms and pulses with excitement. The gesture is one of affection, of pack, of belonging. He goes very still, but then he leans into my touch. We stay like that for a few moments, breathing in each other’s scent.
Then he turns and runs, disappearing into the trees toward town.
I watch him go, something in my chest aching. My wolf wants to follow, wants to keep him close. The feeling makes me uneasy, like I’ve crossed a line without meaning to. Kara flickers through my mind, and guilt follows close behind. I care about her. I do. But she’s human, and no matter how much I want things to be perfect, she’ll never be able to meet my wolf the way another shifter could.
What the hell am I even thinking? I’m acting like there’s a choice here, like Jude is even an option. That’s ridiculous. He’s awolf, yes, but he’s also a man. I’ve never wanted men. Whatever this thing between us is, it’s instinct, not attraction. Not desire. I don’t want him as my mate. That’s not who I am.
You sure about that?
I ignore that little voice and head home. When I reach my place, the shift back is harder than usual. My wolf doesn’t want to let go, doesn’t want to return to the limitations of human form. But eventually I’m standing naked and shivering on my back porch. I go inside and climb into my warm bed, wrapping the covers tight around my body.
My mind is racing, trying to process what just happened with Jude. Will he be weird with me tomorrow at work? We’d made some progress with each other. Will the run we shared shut him down emotionally again? I hope not.
Jude’s scent still clings to me, faint but unmistakable. Heat spreads through me at the memory, sharp and unwanted. I stiffen, mortified when my body responds before I can stop it. Kara suggested I stay over last night, and I’d felt nothing. But thinking about Jude, about the press of his lithe body against mine when we played around in the wild—
I groan and roll over.
This doesn’t make sense. I’m not attracted to men. I never have been. If I were, wouldn’t I have known by now? Wouldn’t there have been some sign before this?
And yet my body refuses to listen.
