Chapter Five
The hangover from the night before was throbbing like he'd been pummeled by bricks. Anthony's head throbbed, and he rubbed it slowly with his fingertips, trying to do anything to distract the pain away. The neighbors next door were having loud sex, so he decided a shower might help him drown out the noise and the pain.
He didn't usually drink that much, but knowing he wasn't going to have to be on the road eased his hand.
His joints cracked as he pulled himself out of bed, feeling like he was undead as he made his way to the bathroom.
The water felt incredible; if it didn't start to run cold he would have stayed in it for the rest of the day. Instead, he stepped out, toweled off, and sat on the bed. It was too soon to make a move, not to mention it was a Sunday, which wouldn't be a great day to interrupt anyone's schedule. If he was going to contact the pack he'd need to be careful about it.
The headache kept on, even after he chugged a couple bottles of water.
There's only one way to stop this.
Sighing, he looked over at the clock.
It was just past four in the evening – a good time to run and catch what he could.
Shifting is a natural way to fix most things. If you shift while a bone is freshly broken it'll be able to go back to its original form. Wounds can heal as long as one is conscious, and you always have the reassurance that most illnesses are only temporary. It doesn't work with all things – cancer, mental illness, and diabetes stick around – but it's a great cure for a headache or sprained ankle.
Anthony made his way outside, looking out for any spots that he could sneak off into the woods. Behind the Casino there was an area where the grass was high, and the only mark of any people was two or three cigarettes. Not a threat. He wanted to leave his clothes close to the building so he'd be able to find them again easily. His headache was getting worse, and he wasn't sure how great his memory retention would be at this rate.
Anthony ducked down against the building and slid off his clothing, making sure there was no sign of anyone else. He could always shift while dressed, but it usually resulted in stretching his clothing or tearing it off.
The air was cold against his skin, and he eased into his wolf form like it was an icy bath. It had been a few weeks, maybe a couple months, and the shift was rough on him. His body felt like it was being torn to shreds and then sewn back together as his bones and organs reformed themselves. His fur came in thick and quickly, and any chills he had left vanished along with his human form.
He could finally relax.
Anthony's headache was immediately gone, and as he dove out into the brush and trees he felt the calmest he had since he was part of a pack.
Birds flurried in the air as he scared them by running past, his paws exploding pollen into the air with every step from the few blooming wildflowers beneath. The sun was just a couple hours from setting, and he chased it like a prize, letting it warm his coat. He always missed this. It was why he wanted a pack so badly, why he wanted to find a place to settle. If he could do this every week – hell even just every other week – his strain and worry would be gone.
Sure, he had his demons in the closet, skeletons he didn't want to air out, but while he was shifted he felt like they didn't exist.
All that mattered was the smell of the sweet spring grass, and the wind he created from running at his top speed. He was at peace.
Slowing his speed as he came to a river, Anthony ducked his head and lapped some water from it, almost panting from his run. A strong scent clung in the air, and he lifted his head for a smell.
The other side of this river was where the local pack's territory started.
He stared across to the woods, trying to catch a glimpse of any movement that he could. The was nothing. He considered, for a moment, crossing the river and seeing what he could learn from the local scents. You could learn a lot from stepping into a pack's territory. Their numbers would be obvious by how strong the smell of the pack was – their age, their health, it was all obvious from one smell.
This distance the river caused diluted it, and instead of a proper reading on them, he was left with a vague idea that there were more than twenty. That didn't mean much. Could be twenty in their pack, could be three hundred; hell, for all he knew, the whole town could be shifters. He'd seen that before, tiny towns that chased out any non-shifters so that they could keep their happy and open utopia.
No, that couldn't be the situation here.
The waitress from the night before had definitely been human.
She'd held his attention, and he wanted all of her, but there wasn't an ounce of shifter in her. He smirked to himself thinking about how he'd like to change that if he had the chance, and then turned away from the river.
If he crossed that river while shifted it would stir more shit than he was able to deal with. He knew better than to pick a fight, especially when all he wanted to do was blend in and join them.
As he trotted back, the early spring fireflies filling the air, he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to live in West Valley permanently. Would he get a job at the Casino? Or become one of those old men that looked like they basically lived at the gambling spot? He couldn't imagine anything like that. He'd been an auto mechanic before everything in his life disintegrated, before…
He fought back the memory.
He didn't want to think about it. It was still too fresh. The dreams had brought it back as though it had happened the day before, leaving the painful wounds on his heart open.
He distracted himself with thoughts about employment instead.
Every town needs a mechanic. He was sure he could find some work if he needed to. If he couldn't work on cars he'd just become a general mechanic and work on commission until he could get a spot in a local shop. Until he could buy a shop of his own.
These ideas that he'd taken for granted when he was younger as the plans of his life were starting to feel like fairy tales: untouchable, unreal.
He wanted them to come true, he wanted to do anything he could to bring them to fruition, but he knew it would be difficult. Without a pack, it would be impossible.
By the time he got back to his clothes, the sun was starting to set.
The forest looked like it was on fire from the sunlight's orange and red, and he reveled in the beauty of it as he started to shift back. He could definitely see himself living there. The shift was painful, again, and he grit his teeth as he finally completed it.
His headache was a distant memory.
Sliding on his clothes, Anthony buttoned his jeans and zipped them, checking his back pocket to make sure his wallet and room key were still in there. It was foolish to leave them, but he didn't think that anyone would have even noticed them.
Cigarette smoke caught his attention, and his head whipped up.
It was close.
Twenty feet away, leaning on the wall in what looked like terror, the waitress from the night before was letting her cigarette hang loosely in her fingers. Her eyes were wide and she wasn't breathing, just staring right at him.
His first thought was complete attraction. She was still gorgeous, still perfect even as the strong smell of cigarette smoke clung to her, she was–
She saw him shift.
A human.
Saw him.
Fuck.
That's one way to let the local pack know you’ve arrived.