CHAPTER

“Stop this.”

Andreas heard those words and understood them, but what he couldn’t understand was what he was supposed to stop doing.

What had he been doing?

“Andreas…” came that faraway voice again. That familiar, feminine voice he would have recognized from across a crowd, and from across a field or through woods.

That was his name—Andreas.

He’d been moving, violently bucking and writhing, but he stopped then and craned his neck around to confirm who spoke to him in such an insistent way.

Oh. Yes.

His goddess.

He opened his mouth to tell her all was well and that she needn’t have worried, but his mouth didn’t work the way it should have. He couldn’t shape his lips around the words or mold his tongue the way he needed to. And his tongue was long and flapping, not thick and firm.

The beast…

How do I…

“Tell me what’s happening,” came a faraway voice, but not in the room. Distant and distorted with static, for some reason.

“He’s stopped moving as much,” his lady said. “He’s just looking. Moving his head as if he’s tracking voices.”

“That’s good,” came the faraway voice. “Keep trying to call him back.”

“Um. Okay.”

She was atop him. Her knees dug against his sides. She pressed her forearms against the hard floor, and placed her face near his head.

Vanilla and banana…

“Andreas,” she whispered. “If you can hear me, know that everything is okay. I won’t hurt you. You just scared me a little. That’s all.”

I frightened her? No. No, never that.

He bucked again, needing to roll over—needing to convince her that he hadn’t meant to frighten her. He couldn’t remember what he’d done, if anything.

Did I physically harm her?

“Be still,” she said, but he’d already rolled over, dislodging her and snapping his jaw, trying to shape the words, but none came out.

“I can’t hold him like this,” she said to the phantom voice.

Where is that sound coming from?

“He needs an alpha, Mary. If he’s stuck like that, one of the boys might be able to force him back, but I don’t know how far they are from you. I hope you can get him to come out sooner than they arrive, or he might get needlessly aggressive.”

Come out?

Andreas pointed his muzzle toward the voice and shouted, but the sound that came out of his throat was a woof, not a human voice saying “Help.”

“What’s he doing, Mary?”

“He’s barking at the phone.”

“No, I don’t think that’s a bark. I think he’s trying to say something and can’t. There’s a little bit of him in there. When he can get back on two legs, he might even remember a little bit of what happened.”

“Any ideas?”

“Pull his fur some more.”

She did, and he howled.

“Don’t like that, huh?” she whispered.

He nipped gently at her wrists, her forearms, and she set her jaw with determination and simply found different patches to tug and torture.

He couldn’t get away from her. He couldn’t roll over again, and the vise grip her thighs had on his body was even tighter now with him laying uncomfortably on his back. Dogs weren’t meant to be on their backs.

She grabbed the scruff under his chin, and then one of his ears, and then some hair right atop his chest. Then she reached behind her and grabbed some hair over his belly, and that seemed to break something inside of him. A howl rent the air, and it was his. His body was set on fire, though he could see no flames.

He writhed beneath her, trying to snuff the fire out against the floor. The blaze was getting under his fur, beneath his skin, into his bones, and it hurt like hell.

“Adam, he’s shifting.”

“Good! Good. Keep on him so he doesn’t slip back.”

“Okay.”

Another yank of fur somewhere on his side, and he couldn’t be certain of where because the pain was already so much.

“S-stop,” he croaked in a voice that most certainly was his. The noise was more growling than talking, though.

Briefly, she did stop, but he watched her recoil with shock or fright or something similar.

Scared or not, she kept pulling fur, and stopped that only to scratch at his tender skin, and to pinch him.

“Don’t you dare shift back on me,” she snapped.

“He’s not stuck, is he?” came the voice.

There must have been a phone somewhere with its speaker on. Sweet Mary was apparently conversing with some sort of sadist.

“I think he’s almost back. His skin is…” She reached down and pressed her hands to his cheeks, cringing. “His skin is rippling, but I think he’s through the worst of the change.”

“That’s everything snapping back where it should go. Imagine an elastic band shrinking. Can you hear me, Andreas?”

Andreas growled through human teeth—a most unsatisfying sound. He regretted making the noise. His throat felt like the fires of hell had raged through him.

“Andreas? You need to answer me, or I’m gonna assume you’re feral,” came the male voice.

Andreas’s teeth were chattering and body shaking hard. He was suddenly so cold.

Naked.

“W-w-who are you?” he asked.

“There you go. Nice to meet ya. I’m Adam Carbone.”

“Th-th-that tells me nothing.”

“Adam,” Mary said to the phone, “he’s shivering violently.”

“Get him wrapped up and next to something warm as soon as you can. It’s hard work transitioning from a body that has fur to one that doesn’t.”

She began to move as if to follow that instruction, but Andreas grabbed her by the waist and kept her atop him. She was warm and soft, and she smelled so fucking fertile.

“Adam, his pupils are huge. Is that normal?”

“Hard to say without more context. What’s he doing?”

“Gripping me.”

“In what way?”

Andreas put his head back against the floor, and from that angle could see straight up Mary’s hitched skirt. She’d felt like she wasn’t wearing panties, but she was, and he’d seen them earlier. There just wasn’t much to them. “Off,” he whispered.

She drew in a deep breath and let it out. “In a salacious way.”

There came no response from the Adam person.

“Adam?” she queried. “You need to tell me something.”

“Sorry. I was just thinking. Look, I can’t say what’s what with me here and you there. I can only guess at what’s going through his head. Anton and Vic’ll be there in a little while. If you can hang out until they get there, I think that’d be for the best, but I’d certainly understand why you might want to leave.”

“Is he going to shift back into a wolf if I leave?”

“Probably, at some point. Like I said, he can’t help being unpredictable.”

“I’m…a wolf?” Andreas said to Adam.

“Show him the pictures, Mary,” Adam said. “Show him who he is.”

“I will.”

“Who are you?” Andreas asked again.

“I’m Adam Carbone, the alpha of the Norseton wolfpack. Mary needed my help to wake you up. That’s all.”

“Norseton?”

“Yep. Didn’t know about the pack here, huh?” Adam chuckled.

Andreas didn’t know if he’d heard or if he’d just brushed the information aside as useless. He’d had no reason to query about wolves in particular. The word shapeshifter hadn’t ever come to mind. He hadn’t tried to put a name to the kind of monster he was.

“Is everything all right there, Mary?” Adam asked.

“Yes, I think we’re fine for now,” she said, staring down at Andreas, her blue eyes wide and curious. “I’ll call you back if I need your help again.”

“I’ll try to stay off the line. Oh, and I’ll keep you updated about the boys’ ETA.”

“Who are you sending here?” Andreas asked, unhanding Mary’s waist.

That was a mistake, because she scrambled off of him, and the beast inside him didn’t like that. He stirred, and Andreas shouted, “No!” and thumped a fist against his chest.

Mary huddled against the sofa, eying him warily.

He shook his head hard. “Not you. This…” He scratched over his heart, wondering if that was where the thing lived and if he could force it out for good. “This thing in me.”

“The beast isn’t in you, son,” Adam said. “You are the beast.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The boys’ll explain when they get there.”

“I don’t want anyone here. They can’t come.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think you have a say in the matter. You got him, Mary?”

She dragged her tongue across her pink lips and then swallowed loudly.

She was afraid of him. He didn’t want that—didn’t like that. She was a goddess. Goddesses shouldn’t be frightened of pitiful beasts.

He took a step toward her, and she backed away.

“I… I think I’ll be okay for a bit.” Her voice dripped with equivocation, but Adam didn’t seem to notice. If he did, he didn’t call her out.

“Okay. Don’t wait too long to call me.” He disconnected.

Mary didn’t go for the phone, wherever it was. She curled against the front of the chaise, pulling her knees up against her chest and staring at him.

He stared back, uncertain of what steps to take next. He’d scared the hell out of her, and he was a goddamned werewolf. That was a lot to process all at once.

Slowly, he crawled toward the heater. The controls didn’t make immediate sense, although he’d worked them countless times before. The memories of using the machine were disjointed and scattered, as if something had plowed through and pushed the parts to different sides of the road in his mind.

Finally, the heating element glowed red.

He sat back on his heels, head hanging, hands shaking.

She moved behind him and he turned rapidly—too rapidly, perhaps—to look at her. He was faster, somehow. He didn’t understand the things his body was doing.

She’d only moved a couple of feet, and she had her hands up as if he’d threatened her.

“I was just going over there”—she pointed to a stack of moving pads near a support column—“to shake out some of the dust in one of those big blankets. Adam said that you needed to get warm.”

“Why did you call him?” he asked pleadingly. “Why? Why would you send people after me?”

She shook her head. “No, you don’t understand. I was only trying to get you help, Andreas. Can’t you understand that? I called someone I could trust.”

“And now they’re coming here to, what, kill me?”

“No! Why would they do that?”

“Wolves are territorial creatures. I know that much.”

She backed slowly toward the column, looking alternately toward him and behind her.

She needn’t have watched him so closely. Even if he’d wanted to leap after her, he didn’t have the energy. He barely had enough in the tank to keep his head up.

He needed to lie down. Exhaustion tugged at him like the thickest quicksand. He needed to rest. Never before had he felt like if he didn’t sleep, he’d die.

What’s wrong with me? He rubbed his eyes and rolled back his aching shoulders.

“This isn’t their territory,” she said. “Norseton is, and that’s not exactly walking distance from here. Why are you so suspicious of them?”

“Why did you call someone in Norseton? Shouldn’t you be more suspicious?”

“No.” She pushed the topmost blankets off the stack and rooted out one that didn’t have too many moth holes, and that wasn’t completely coated in dust. When she shook it out a bit more, he could see that most of the fabric appeared to be clean enough, though it’d probably reek of age.

“Why not?” he asked.

Using her hip, she bumped the settee closer to the heater. “Because I choose to. I’ve got to trust somebody, and trustworthy people in Fallon are in short supply.”

He sure as shit couldn’t argue with that.

“I spoke to Maggie first. Maggie told Muriel, and Muriel suggested that I talk to Adam.”

“Muriel?”

“Mm-hmm.” Swallowing hard yet again, she pointed to the settee, indicating he should get on it.

He tried to think of any reason why he shouldn’t comply, but nothing floated to the front of his mind.

He crawled achingly to the settee and climbed on.

She immediately unfurled the blanket over him.

Both coughed at the raised cloud of dust.

“Warmer?” she asked.

He shrugged, but she couldn’t see his movements, so he cleared his throat and said, “I’m cold down to my bones. I may need more.”

“I’ll get you another blanket.” She started pulling away, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her back to him.

“No.” He lifted the corner of the blanket and nodded to the sliver of surface beside him. “If you’d loan me your company, I’ll warm faster.”

She dragged a hand through the hair that at some point in the day had come loose from its bun and shifted her weight.

“I understand this is unorthodox,” he said.

“That’s putting things mildly.”

“But are we not different than others? Do we not have to make allowances for what we are and cope, in spite of the fact that this world would prefer that we fail?”

“Are you telling me to abandon my standards?”

“No.” He gave her a gentle, but pleading tug down toward the settee. He needed to feel her skin against his—needed to feel something real and warm. And something that was his.

She could be his mooring.

“You needn’t abandon your standards, whatever they may be. I’m merely asking for help. If my nudity offends you, I apologize. Somewhere in this dusty pit, I have spare clothing, though if I shift again…” The word was somehow sour in his mouth. “I’ll ruin them. I would have to go without until you could fetch more for me.”

“And that’s less than ideal.” She let out a tittering breath and pushed her hair back from her eyes. “Don’t misunderstand me. I don’t have a problem with nudity, and especially not yours.”

“Oh?” He cocked an eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m certain you’re well aware of what you look like when your clothes are off.”

“Of course, though you sound as though I spend an inordinate amount of time in that state.”

“If I did, I didn’t mean to. I apologize.”

“You’re stalling, sweet Mary.”

“What?”

“Please.” He gestured to the space on the settee yet again. “Would you like a promise that I’ll be a gentleman?”

“A gentleman and a wolf.” She laughed and, gingerly, perched on the edge of the seat. “Quite a combination.”

“Perhaps I’ll let you finish your interview.”

She grimaced. “Could you believe that just that quickly, I’d forgotten what I came here for?”

He reached across her body and nudged her hip. She wasn’t moving quickly enough, and he did still require her warmth.

“Okay. Behave, Mr. Toft.”

“You called me Andreas before.”

“In the heat of the moment.”

“I don’t believe you can so quickly reverse our familiarity. After all, you’ve seen me nude. You’ve seen the…thing that I am. Seems only proper that you call me by my given name.”

“This is Fallon. No one gives a shit about what’s proper.”

“But you do?”

A muscle in her jaw twitched.

He’d struck a nerve, obviously, but he’d needed to. He needed to shake her loose from her course and rid her of her misconceptions of him. More than anything, he craved her acceptance. He hadn’t let anyone else get so close to him in so long, and he wouldn’t dare squander his chance to finally connect with someone.

“Please?” He guided her down beside him, and she didn’t resist.

She lay on her back staring at the ceiling rafters, and he brazenly slung half his body over hers. He’d already had her permission, and he was going to assume her acceptance was carte blanche. He closed his eyes, weary and aching.

“Your questions?” he asked, trying to ignore the slight shifting of her leg beneath his body, and the things the movement did to his cock. He was poorly positioned, but he wasn’t dead. Of course she’d arouse him. She needed to only breathe in his direction to ignite his fire.

“I don’t give a damn about the case. I’m getting the hell out of this place as soon as I can.”

Scowling, he lifted his head. “Just like that, you’re leaving?”

“Are you asserting that you won’t let me?”

He ground his teeth together to still his tongue.

“I wasn’t just talking about this building. I mean Fallon.”

Stunned, he put his head back down. The muscles in his neck felt as though they’d been stabbed through with icy steel. “Truly?”

“Yes,” she said. Her voice. Seemed some odd combination of eagerness and exasperation. “I think I just needed the right kind of kick in the pants. I could go to Norseton. There’s a job waiting for me there, and at least I know the clan leaders would be welcoming. I could have a fresh start and leave some of my old ghosts behind here.”

“You’ve nothing left to stay for?”

With her brows knit and the flush of passion in her cheeks, she tipped her lovely face toward him. “Do you?”