“Let’s go. We’ve only got a few hours before the moon rises,” she instructed, and I followed her dutifully into the forest.
We walked silently for a while. My hangover had subsided a lot and was quickly being replaced by the full moon pull. Something I had only experienced once before.
It was gradual at first, like the light seeming to last longer than it should, like the colours of the forest being slightly sharper, the smells more defined.
The wind changed direction, and the scent of Cole drifted to me. It wasn’t as intense as the previous night.
I involuntarily remembered the kiss. But her scent was warmer, sharper, a little wild.
“How are you feeling?” Cole asked ahead of me.
“Fine,” I answered.
She looked over her shoulder, her dark eyes meeting mine, and I tripped over a root, stumbling forward.
Cole turned to catch me.
She was warm, wearing only a basic T-shirt. I gripped hold of her bare arms.
“You’re hot,” she said to me, and I was momentarily taken aback until she continued. “Full moon pull increases internal body temperature. Are you experiencing other side effects?” she asked.
I pushed myself away from her.
“Are you?” I asked, unable to help how childish I sounded. I didn’t want to be out there, closer and closer to shifting, andI didn’t want to speak, to talk about or acknowledge what was happening.
“Yes,” she answered. “Scent is the worst distraction for me. It’s our wolf’s sense coming to the front,” she said and stepped forward. “I know it’s only natural that my sense wouldn’t be focused on you, to keep you safe, but puppy, you need to learn to control your pheromones,” she told me.
“I didn’t realise—” I began, feeling my cheeks heat with embarrassment.
“That excuse is no longer valid,” she interrupted me.
I stepped back. She followed me.
“It’s never been a problem before now,” I complained. It wasn’t my fault. “It’s your fault.”
She smiled, a knowing, obnoxious grin.
“You can’t control yourself around me, is that your excuse?” she asked.
“It means you’re doing something,” I defended myself.
I backed against a tree.
Cole leaned her elbow against the tree above my head.
“How could I possibly be turning you on? I haven’t said a word, haven’t even looked at you,” she challenged, and I squirmed under her steady gaze, hating her stupid, perfect smile.
I was breathing her in again.
I ducked under her arm and out of her trap.
“It’s your scent. It sets mine off or something. You’re doing this. Not me,” I told her.
Cole growled.
I stepped back; her eyes locked on me.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked.
