He rolled one of his shoulders in a shrug, then faced away from me and started up again.I’m sure it’ll get moremanageable.
I was no longer the small pup he’d run alongside six years ago, but I still had to lengthen my strides to match his own. He must’ve noticed, because at some point he slowed his brisk pace. Silence grew and grew between us, but there was nothing awkward about it. If anything, it was like a balm, healing the deep cuts Liam had gouged inme.
I’m glad you’re home,Iwhispered.
August looked at me in that quiet, all-seeing way of his.Once you get back with Liam, you’ll probably change your mind aboutthat.
I bristled, horrified he thought I would go back to Liam.I might be all over the place, but I do have some self-love. Liam and I, we’re not getting back together.I thought about the time he’d sniffed me.I forgave him oncebefore.
Although cloaked in fur, his limbs seemed to grow harder.What did you forgive himfor?
August’s green eyes bore into mine, but I didn’t explain. I would take what had happened between Liam and me to thegrave.
Even though the sky was mottled with pale puffs of clouds, I could still make out the glittery pinpricks of stars. They made me think of my father, of the night we’d star-gazed from our rooftop. He’d been such a gentle and righteousman.
A man who wouldneverhave lashed out at someone so bitterly and sopublicly.
There were some lines that shouldn’t be crossed. I’d rearranged those lines to allow Liam closer, but after today, I would paint new ones around myself and wouldn’t let anyone undeserving pastthem.
19
August had parkedhis pickup in the lot where I’d morphed from human to wolf. He’d tracked my scent from Tracy’s to the metal bins behind which I’d taken cover tostrip.
Boulder was quiet and dark when our claws clicked onto the lot’s pavement. When we reached the pickup, August’s spine heaved, and then his brown fur receded into his dark, bronzed skin. When he unfurled, all his joints and muscles elongated and thickened until his backside was entirely man and no longer wolf. I noticed a line of puckered skin at the base of his spine. I wondered how he’d gotten that scar. When he began pivoting, I averted my gaze, taking great interest in the scratched rim of his backwheel.
A car door clicked, and then fabric rustled and a zipper purred shut. Only then did I let my gaze drift back to August. Lucas said I needed to get used to nudity, but it was easy for the males of the pack. They’d grown up walking naked around each other; Ihadn’t.
Barefoot and shirtless, August extended a cream flannel button-down to me. “Your clothes are stilldamp.”
The shirt dangled between us. Was he expecting me to shift in front of him? When I didn’t make any move to snatch the shirt, he draped it over the side of the cargo bed and turned. I was thankful he’d understood my mute plea. Closing my eyes, I arched my back and allowed the magic to pulse through my limbs and drag away the fur, the claws, the fangs, and every other part of my lupine constitution. My ears migrated back to the sides of my face, my jaw flattened, my lipsreshaped.
Back in skin, I pressed my hands into the damp gravel and rose, bones clicking as I stretched to my full human height of five-seven. Glancing sideway to make sure August was still turned, I plucked the shirt from the bed and speared my arms through. I fastened the buttons quickly, leaving smudges of mud on the soft material that smelled so strongly of August it made my head spin. Or maybe it was the miles I’d traveled at breakneck speed that was making my headspin.
Pushing my stringy hair back, I said, “You can turn around now.” My voice sounded raucous, as though it, too, had been dragged across the roughterrain.
As August turned, I tugged on the hem of the shirt, thankful he was an entire head taller. Otherwise, the shirt would’ve exposed a lot more ofme.
“Thanks,” I said, nodding to the shirt. I pinched the hem to prevent the material from flappingopen.
He palmed his close-cropped hair. I’d never known him with any other haircut, but I remembered Isobel showing me pictures of him as a toddler where his face had been haloed by a mane of soft curls that couldn’t seem to decide which way to bend. Only two things remained of the little boy from those pictures: the spray of dark freckles over his nose and cheekbones, and the penetrating green eyes flecked by sable and gold. But where the boy had had a soft jaw, the man’s jaw could saw throughwood.
“Feeling better,Dimples?”
The nickname startled me. I’d spent my childhood hearing it, responding to it, but I wasn’t sure I liked it anymore. It made me feel juvenile. I didn’t say anything, though. To August, I supposed I would always be the little pigtailed girl he’d ferry to and from school on his way towork.
“Ness?”
“Hmm.” I released the lip I was reflexively sliding through myteeth.
“Are you feelingbetter?”
“Yeah.” Iwasn’t.
When he cocked an eyebrow, I added a meeksmile.
“I promise. Running cleared myhead.”
Although he still didn’t seem convinced, he tipped his head to the truck. “Get in. I’ll give you a lift back to theinn.”
