I’m saved from answering when a group of humans come in, shaking snow from their coats and bringing a blast of cold air with them. They’re all laughing as they call out greetings to Jim. One of them, a redheaded woman about my age, catches my eye and gives me a friendly nod. I nod back politely.
A very attractive guy enters the bar and joins the group of humans. He’s a wolf, about thirty with a muscular build, dark hair and eyes. He’s greeted immediately by the red-haired woman. They kiss and he slips his arm around her slender waist. His smile is affectionate and she seems to beam under his attention. I don’t blame her. He’s sexy AF. I have no interest in getting involved with anyone romantically, human or wolf, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind.
The dark-haired wolf’s gaze sweeps the bar. When his eyes land on me, something shifts in his expression. It’s subtle, just a flicker of something I can’t discern crossing his features. His attention lingers a beat too long before he turns back to the redhead, but there’s a tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there a moment ago.
My wolf stirs restlessly under my skin, responding to something I don’t understand. It’s not fear or aggression. It’s something else entirely. Something that makes my pulse quicken and my fingers tighten around my beer glass. It’s like my wolf recognizes him, even though I’m positive we’ve never met.
“So what brings you to Golden Peak?” Steve asks, still trying to get in my pants. His voice pulls me back from whatever the hell just happened between me and the dark-eyed wolf.
“Work,” I say shortly, taking a bite of my burger to discourage further conversation.
The dark-eyed wolf glances my way again, and this time our eyes meet directly. His brow furrows slightly, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. Then the red-head leans in, saying something that makes him smile, and the connection breaks.
I force myself to look away, focusing on my food. Steve is still talking. Something about the best hiking trails in the area,but I’m barely listening. I’m too aware of the stranger across the bar, tracking his movements in my peripheral vision even as I pretend total disinterest.
Whatever I’m feeling, it’s odd and inconvenient. I’m here to work. To rebuild confidence in my ability to be a good cop. The last thing I need is... whatever this is. Besides, it’s obvious he’s with the red-head. She’s hanging on him like a sweater and he’s eating up the attention.
“...so if you ever want a guide, I’m your guy,” Steve finishes, clearly hoping for some kind of positive response.
“Thanks,” I manage. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
I feel kind of bad being so unfriendly to poor Steve. He seems like a nice guy, but even if Iwaslooking for a hookup, he’s not my type. His energy is too needy. Unstable. I have too many issues of my own to deal with. Getting involved with someone like Steve would only make my life more complicated.
No thanks. I’m all about no complications right now.
Across the bar, the dark-haired wolf is laughing at something one of his friends said, but his eyes drift back to me once again. The confusion is still there, mixed with something that might be curiosity. Or maybe I’m imagining that. Maybe I’m projecting my own inexplicable reaction onto him.
I drain my second beer and signal Jim for the check. Steve finally seems to get the hint, mumbling something about seeing me around before retreating to his friends. The check comes quickly and I leave cash on the bar, not waiting for change.
The fresh air outside is a relief from the stuffiness of the bar. I zip my jacket against the wind and head back toward my apartment. I need sleep, but my wolf is clawing at my insides, restless and agitated in a way I haven’t felt in years. I try toignore it but it eats at me. The truth is I feel like I need to run. To shift. I feel like I’ll go insane if I don’t.
I reach the Blue Pine Apartments. Behind the big structure, the woods press close, dark pines heavy with snow. I can smell the boundary markers in the distance, although the immediate area around the apartment complex is neutral ground. My wolf pushes harder for relief, restless and demanding release.
I probably shouldn’t give in to it, but I’m tempted. I glance around, making sure no one is outside. Shifters live among humans, but that only works because most of them have no idea we exist. The only time a human learns the truth is if they marry a shifter or end up raising a shifter child, and by then the secret protects their own family too. I’m not about to be the wolf who ruins that balance. Instinct tells me humans wouldn’t take the news well. They rarely do when something isn’t like them.
I peer up at the cloudy sky. There’s a break in the clouds and the sight of the full moon makes my heart speed up. With a feeling of excited nervousness, I give one last look around and then strip quickly behind a dumpster, folding my clothes and tucking them under the back stairs. The cold bites at my bare skin, but I barely feel it. My wolf is already surging forward.
The shift starts immediately in my chest, a deep crack that reverberates through my ribcage. My bones begin to reshape, breaking and reforming with wet pops that would make me scream if I hadn’t done this a thousand times before. The pain is familiar, even welcome. It’s been far too long since I gave into this primal need.
My spine elongates with a series of sharp cracks, vertebrae separating and reforming. I drop to my hands and knees as my legs restructure themselves, femurs shortening, joints reversing.The sensation is like being pulled apart and put back together wrong, except it’s not wrong. It’s so fucking right.
Silver-tipped fur erupts across my skin in a rippling wave, starting at my spine and spreading outward. The sensation is almost orgasmic, each follicle awakening with a sharp tingle that races across my body. I can feel each individual hair pushing through my skin, thousands of them, soft and thick. The cold that bit at my bare skin moments ago disappears beneath the insulation.
My face elongates, jaw cracking and stretching forward into a muzzle. My teeth sharpen and lengthen, tongue reshaping itself. My ears migrate up the sides of my head, growing and sharpening to points. The sounds of the night suddenly explode around me. The whisper of snow falling through pine branches, the scurry of a mouse thirty yards away, the distant rumble of a truck on the mountain roads.
My hands and feet compact and reshape, fingers fusing and forming into paws, nails thickening into claws that dig into the frozen earth. The final changes ripple through me, tail extending from my spine, internal organs shifting to accommodate my new form.
And then it’s done.
I shake myself, feeling lighter in this form. I’m smaller than a lot of wolves. I’ve always been on the leaner side, built for speed rather than brute strength. My fur catches the moonlight filtering through the trees as a rush of euphoria overtakes me.
The world is alive to me in ways my human senses can never comprehend. I can smell everything. The sharp bite of pine sap, the musk of deer that passed through hours ago, the complex layering of other wolves’ scents that crisscross the woods likeinvisible boundaries. I can hear the heartbeat of the forest, the tiny sounds that make up the night.
I bolt deeper into the woods. My paws find purchase on the snow-covered ground, claws gripping as I leap over a fallen log. The tension that’s been coiled in my chest since Atlanta begins to unwind with each stride.
I don’t think. I just move. Muscles stretching and contracting, breath misting in the cold air, the rhythm of paws hitting earth. This is what I needed. Not the beer, not the burger, not Steve’s unwanted attention or that dark-haired wolf’s confusing stare.
Just this. Just running. Just being wolf.
