Then the animals were changing again.
The same impossible transformation, too fast to follow. The polar bear became Reese. The lion became Grayson. Both of them were naked, standing in the yard like this was completely normal. Like they hadn’t just been animals. Like Ryan’s entire understanding of reality hadn’t just shattered into a million pieces.
Grayson said something to Reese. His mouth moved, but Ryan couldn’t hear the words through the window and the rushing sound in his ears. Reese nodded and headed toward the back of the house. Grayson turned toward the kitchen window.
Their eyes met through the glass.
Ryan saw the moment Grayson realized he was there, saw his expression shift from predator to something almost human. Almost normal. Except nothing about this was normal and Ryan’s brain was still trying to process what he’d seen and failing spectacularly.
Grayson moved toward the house. Toward the kitchen door. Toward Ryan.
Ryan’s legs finally remembered how to work. He stumbled backward, away from the window, away from the door. His hip hit the kitchen table and pain flared, but he barely felt it. His hands were still shaking. His whole body was shaking. The tremors ran through him like earthquakes.
The back door opened. Grayson stepped inside, still naked, his skin marked with dirt and what might have been blood. He moved slowly, his hands held out like he was approaching a spooked animal.
“Ryan.” His voice was careful. Controlled. Nothing like the growl it had been upstairs. “I need you to breathe. Can you do that for me?”
Ryan tried to speak. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. His lungs felt too small, like someone had wrapped them in plastic wrap. The kitchen tilted sideways. Or maybe he was tilting. He couldn’t tell anymore.
“Breathe,” Grayson repeated. He was closer now. Close enough that Ryan could smell him. Blood and earth and that wild-animal scent that had filled the house. “In through your nose. Out through your mouth. Come on.”
Ryan’s lungs obeyed without his permission. Air rushed in, too fast, making him dizzy. He tried to slow it down. Tried to match the rhythm Grayson was demonstrating with his own exaggerated breaths.
“That’s it.” Grayson’s hands were on his shoulders now. Warm and solid and human. Except they weren't human earlier. They'd been paws.
Chapter Eight
Grayson gestured toward the stairs. “I need to get dressed.” The words came out measured, controlled. His mate was seconds away from breaking completely, and standing here covered in dirt and blood wasn't helping.
Ryan’s eyes tracked down Grayson’s body. The movement was quick, almost furtive, but Grayson caught it. Even in shock, even with his entire worldview crumbling, Ryan’s gaze swept over his bare torso, his hips, the jeans he’d barely managed to button before coming back inside. The scent that rolled off Ryan shifted slightly. Fear was still there, acrid and overwhelming, but underneath it was something else. Something that made Grayson’s lion rumble with satisfaction despite the circumstances.
“Clothes,” Ryan repeated. His voice came out hoarse. “Yes. Clothes are good. Clothes are a normal human thing that normal humans wear. Because they’re human. And not lions.”
Grayson moved toward the stairs, keeping his movements slow. Non-threatening. Ryan followed without being asked, his feet making soft sounds against the hardwood. The distance between them stayed constant, like Ryan had measured it and decided that was as close as he could handle right now.
The stairs creaked under Grayson’s weight. He’d climbed them thousands of times, knew which boards made noise and which stayed silent. Usually he avoided the loud ones out of habit. Tonight he stepped on every single one, letting Ryan hear him, letting Ryan track his position.
Behind him, Ryan was breathing too fast. Not quite hyperventilating but close. Grayson counted the steps. Twelve to the landing. The hallway stretched ahead, lit only by the lamp they'd left on in his bedroom. The door stood open, exactly as they'd left it when the attack started.
Had it only been twenty minutes? The sheets were still tangled from where Ryan had been sleeping. The room still smelled like sex and satisfaction, scents that seemed to belong to a different lifetime now.
Grayson moved to his dresser and pulled out clean jeans and a shirt. Ryan hovered in the doorway, his arms wrapped around himself. The fear scent was starting to fade slightly, replaced by confusion and something that might have been curiosity. Grayson could hear his heartbeat, still too fast but steadying. His mate was resilient. Stronger than he looked.
“So…” Ryan said. He was trying for casual and missing by a mile. “You’re a lion. That’s a thing that you are. A lion. Who can also be a person. Or a person who can also be a lion. I’m not sure which way that sentence is supposed to go.”
Grayson pulled the clean shirt over his head. The fabric settled against his skin, covering the scratches he’d gotten from one of the hyenas. They were already healing, the wounds closing at a speed that would seem impossible to human eyes. “I’m a shifter. So are Reese, Malik, and Colton.”
“Shifter.” Ryan tested the word like it might bite him. “That’s what you call it. Shifting. From human to animal. Just completely changing your entire body in like half a second. No big deal. Totally normal.”
“It’s spontaneous. No breaking bones or pain. It just happens.” Grayson changed his jeans, aware of Ryan’s eyes tracking the movement. His mate was watching him get dressed with the same focus he’d probably use for a fascinating medical procedure. Clinical observation mixed with something that definitely wasn't clinical.
“Spontaneous,” Ryan repeated. “Right. Like a sneeze. Except instead of germs you turn into a four-hundred-pound apex predator.” His laugh came out wrong, brittle around the edges. “This is fine. I’m fine. Everything is completely fine and normal, and I’m definitely not having a mental breakdown in your hallway.”
Grayson fastened his jeans and turned to face Ryan fully. His mate had pressed himself against the doorframe, using it for support. The color had started to return to his face, but his hands were still shaking where they gripped his own arms.
“You have questions,” Grayson said.
“Questions?” Ryan’s voice pitched higher. “Yeah. I have a few questions. Starting with what the actual hell and ending with am I having a stroke right now.”
