Delayed Gratification was Zach’s middle name.

Old Zach, that is. Before.

Before, he was the poster child for holding back, for thinking long-term, for investing in the bigger picture. All his student loans were paid off quickly because he lived like a monk who took a vow of poverty for nearly two years. It’s not that he was a cheapskate.

He had a goal. A long-term goal to be out of debt so that when he found the right woman and it was time to start a family, they would have choices.

Increased choices were important to Zach even if it meant making short-term sacrifices.

Sophia’s idea of delaying his sexual needs felt like a slap, a rejection, a betrayal.

This was New Zach.

New Zach just wanted more. More of those lush curves that stretched down Sophia’s body from shoulder to calf, begging for his touch. More of that full, ripe mouth that offered promises of pleasures he couldn’t even imagine. More of those hands that grabbed his ass and drove him inside her, harder, at that split second when his orgasm burst out of him with so much more intensity.

More of the delicious curl of her lips in an amused smile.

More of those big brown eyes that looked into his soul.

Just… more.

She said he wasn’t being denied—just delayed.

As seconds ticked by, the path to his room like a walk through sexual death row, his cock rubbed against the seam of his pants, nearly making him groan. He hadn’t felt this sensitive, this eager, this horny since he was a young teenager.

What had Sophia said? “Pubescent urges”? Was she being literal? He had so many questions, his legs taking him forward to his room, his libido wanting him to stop, turn around, and run to chase her, catch her.

Devour her.

On halting legs, he continued, knowing that the second he walked into his room he’d unbutton his pants, grab his still-scented cock and beat off, the climax a biological necessity. A vision of her controlled face, chastising him—hell, denying him—made his blood race as he imagined all the ways he would convince her to give him what he needed.

And to give her even more.

He found the door to the hallway, then his room, walking in and looking around the space with new, frustrated eyes. Loathing himself, he did exactly what he’d imagined, stripping naked, barely turning on the shower spray before clutching the base of his shaft, one stroke making his thighs tighten, release imminent.

Pubescent urges, huh? Going through puberty again would be a form of torture. As he climbed into the shower, before the water even hit his chest, he stroked up once more and shuddered, his seed spilling out, rolling down to join the drops of water that splashed the floor, his body tense with relief, the paradox as bewildering as any other.

He stared down, his hand around his penis, the size difference between Old Zach and New Zach still surreal. As the water washed over him, he took deep breaths, the orgasm barely touching the craving for Sophia. Beating off did nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not one drop of arousal was exorcised.

If anything, he wanted her with an even greater compulsion, the difference between his hand and her pussy, between this empty shower and the delight of her enthusiastic body so great it only made him yearn for her.

Old Zach would have felt some measure of alleviation at whacking off. It took the hormones and gave them a release, which helped.

Now? No.

Skin throbbing as if his entire body were nothing but his pulse, Zach quickly finished the shower, tearing through the motions like a man with a mission. As he hurriedly dried off with the towel, he marched into his bedroom and came to a halt before the mirror.

A cart, much like a room service setup, rested against the end of his bed. Covered dishes dotted the top, laid out in a pattern. The scent of steak made him salivate as he recognized hunger—digestive, not sexual—and stopped what he was doing, pulling the lids off all the food.

Tenderloin. Lobster. Stuffed chicken breasts made with fresh buffalo mozzarella and asiago cheese. Without even bothering to unroll the silverware, Zach ate greedily using his hands, the entire tray emptied within ten minutes, all the way down to the monster-sized piece of caramel-drizzled vanilla bean cheesecake that was seriously out of this world.

Did shifters use magic when they cooked?

Unaware of how hungry he’d been, he was slightly soothed by the food. Stretching out on the bed, he took up the entire space, letting his thoughts settle.

Homework.

She gave him homework.

Zach was a fine student. One of the best, in fact. You didn’t complete a PhD in biochemistry at the University of Michigan without being diligent, detail oriented, and—

Oh hell.

Zach burst out laughing at the absurdity of realizing he’d graduated from a school whose mascot was—wait for it—

A wolverine.

Not even close to a wolf but still funny.

Snorting, he let the image roll over him, his stomach full and his heart heavy. A sudden flash of his studio apartment back in Boston made him yearn for normalcy. His pet cat, Lucy, had died last year. Aside from a few plants he’d never been very good at watering, there was nothing back home to worry about.

And no one there to worry about him.

He was an only child with no aunts, no uncles, no cousins. For fun, a few years ago, he’d done online genetic testing in an effort to learn from the raw data. A few fifth cousins living in the Netherlands had popped up, one in Slovenia, another in Belgium.

None in the US and none closer than fifth cousins.

He might as well be the one to experience a lab accident so radical, he mused as he closed his eyes, willing his body to relax. It was as if he were disconnected from the world, tethered only by his own volition. If he had a connection to anything, it was work.

And look where that got him.

Sophia.

Her name whispered its way through his subconscious, his cock growing at the thought, all hope of relaxation vanquished.

Homework, huh? Shift on his own, in a controlled way, without her nearby to trigger the gnawing sexual need?

Zach could do that. He was a good student, after all.

Teacher’s pet, if he got this right.

How, exactly, did he make himself shift? At no point during his other experiences had he felt like he had any control. It just was. Making himself shift felt impossible, like forcing a sneeze or using the mind only to will an orgasm to occur. Sure, he’d heard of outliers who could do it, but…

He thought about Sophia’s scent, a musky, flowery odor that just made him horny, his erection standing tall as if trying to shake hands with the ceiling fan.

Nope.

He thought about being a wolf. Prowling in a pack, roaming through woods and prairies, hunting for rabbits.

Yuck. No way. Did shifters hunt for food? Were the Stanton family a bunch of predators, shifting at night, stalking smaller animals to devour them? Was that how this worked?

Questions. He had so many questions.

Too many.

“Shut up, Zach,” he chided himself. “No sex until you ace this. Don’t overanalyze it. Just do it.”

Great. Now he sounded like a sneaker commercial.

Fear made him hesitate. The first time he had shifted, nothing but pain came through, like a freight train hit him head-on, no relief in sight. Endless pain rippled through him for what felt like weeks, impossible to bear.

Time to set aside the fear and shift anyway.

A sound outside, like wind in chimes, made his ears perk, though he stayed in place. Muted voices were all around him, their tones weaving in and around the waves of life. A head turning on a pillow, car tires on a gravel road, the calm, liquid sound of wine being poured, the rustle of draperies being pulled back to yield starlight.

Zach closed his eyes and imagined, letting the mental map of the world turn into one layered by sound and scent until the tapestry of art in his mind’s eye made all the layers blend together in a synergy that seemed magical. Mystical.

Ancient.

As his skin warmed and expanded, blood quickening, he opened to the integration. When the world came together with such power, it made his animal mind feel ready, pores dilating, bones stretching, the impossible power of his new self a heady prospect.

His jaw tightened then popped, joints separating and reconnecting, fur heavy against skin that changed, too.

Seconds passed as he wriggled from his back to his belly, the exquisite brush of the comforter against his fur-covered underside too luxurious, almost annoying. Keen eyes took in the room as his language faded, the words overpowered by image, by scent.

And the Stanton household revealed all its secrets to him, one by one.

Ariana was in love, but her mother did not know.

Roger’s wife was pregnant but had not told him.

Asher Stanton carried grief like a dead conjoined twin he had to drag through life.

And Sophia—

He leaped off the bed and onto the ground, pacing furiously, needing room to run. Pulling up on his hind legs, he scratched at the doorknob, cursing himself for unexpected problems. Thumbs were an afterthought in Zach’s life until suddenly, they weren’t.

Looking to the window, he saw an alternative.

Or not.

Closing his wolf eyes, he pulled inward, clenching every muscle as if trying to take all his body’s energy and smash it into a sphere the size of an eyeball. His gut curled in, cock hard in animal form, and suddenly he was on the floor, face mashed into the jute rug beneath him, a testicle screaming to be let loose from being trapped between his thigh and the floor.

“Oh God,” he groaned, freeing his poor nut, feeling hungover and dizzy. His leg and arm hair pinched against the rough rug as he rested, panting quietly, holding up one paw.

Except it was a hand. A human hand.

The edge between wolf and human felt blurry inside. Zach had assumed it would be more distinct, and suddenly understood why Sophia had ordered him to learn this skill on his own. If she trained him, he would reflect less on his internal state and take guidance from her, following someone else’s interpretation of his experience.

Better to know himself thoroughly, than to be told how to be.

The combination of his full stomach, the trauma of being in a strange place, the low-level fear that he was a prisoner, and the intentional shift all made him woozy, the floor suddenly comfortable. Inviting, even.

A nap. Sophia was right.

He needed a nap.

Now.

* * *

Sophia made him wait until darkness fell on the next evening. It was autumn, so the days were short. She wasn’t torturing him too badly.

Although she had to wonder who was more tortured by their separation—Zach or her? She’d tossed and turned all night, then spent the morning and afternoon pacing the woods in bear and human form, trying to wear out the urge to go to him. Something about him was irresistible, hopelessly delicious. She felt incomplete without him, as if she were dancing with only one shoe.

If this was the Beat, she wasn’t sure she wanted it. It terrified her. Before Zach, she’d thought of herself as invincible. This craving made her so vulnerable it was ridiculous.

But, my God, the sex. The stolen moments with him had been incredible. She’d never been able to resist an excellent sensual experience, and with him around, so close and so willing, so aggressively demanding, she was a lost cause. Her! Sophia Stanton! The world truly was tilting on its axis, threatening to throw her off into the cold, empty vacuum of space.

In the middle of the night, when she was at her most defenseless, it had occurred to her that she might not survive this. And then she’d literally slapped herself and gotten up for a drink.

Crazy. The need to train Zach for the survival of both him and their world was the only thing that kept her from jumping on a jet back to Boston to lose herself in the safe, uncomplicated pleasures she’d known for years.

And train him she had to do. He hadn’t even practiced shifting. Sex was easy compared to that.

All shifter children spent years learning how to move back and forth between their two forms, ripping their way through warehouses of clothing as they learned self-control. For whatever reason, wolves seemed to be an easier form—at least she and Derry had thought so, watching their two older brothers who had much more mastery over themselves than they ever had, even as adults. When she’d heard that Gavin had shifted uncontrollably upon meeting Lilah, she’d been shocked to her core and then convinced it was serious, fatefully serious, because in her memory Gavin had never lost control.

And now tonight, the moment the sun dipped behind the mountains, Sophia opened the door of the small building of guest rooms where Zach was staying, strode down the hallway to his room, and lifted her fist to knock on the door.

It flew open immediately.

“Took you long enough,” he growled, reaching for her.

She stepped back, out of reach. “Not yet.” She glanced down the hallway, the row of doors. When Gavin had business conferences at the ranch, this was where he put his human colleagues. Nice view of the lake and easy access to the parking lot and main house but artfully separate from everything else, especially the private homes of the family members. “I’ve always hated this building.”

“Why?”

Adjusting the jacket she wore over the third dress she’d tried on before finally deciding it was the one to tempt him with, she shrugged. “The ranch should be our sanctuary. Where we don’t have to worry about other people watching us, finding us out. When humans come here, I have to be on my guard, even in my own house. You never know when some human is going to feel like taking a hike in the woods.”

“You say ‘human’ as if you’re not one yourself,” Zach said.

She regarded him in surprise, realizing she had been talking to him as if he were one of her own kind. When had she started thinking of him as a shifter?

The moment she’d seen him. Not this week but last year. The first time she’d seen him. When he was just a quiet, nerdy guy working for Gavin.

“I’m not,” she said. “And neither are you.”

“Like hell I’m not,” he said. “A few genetically altered molecules can’t change who I am.”

Maybe they hadn’t, she thought. Maybe, somehow, he’d been destined to be a shifter all along and had only needed the slightest push to turn to the other side. Not in a scientific sense—she was convinced, after seeing that bastard Mason Webb when he’d nearly killed her brother Edward, that the serum was powerful, even dangerous—but in the mysterious, unknowable sense that drove fate.

But she suspected that if she told Zach he’d been a shifter all along in the spiritual sense, he’d laugh at her. “You can turn into a wolf,” she said. “Is that not so?”

A flash of enthusiasm in his eyes told her he’d done as she’d instructed and practiced his shifting—and liked it. That would be the first step, to find the joy in their powers. She felt a rush of excitement, expectation of his next lesson.

“Yes,” he said. “But I’m still a man.”

“That makes you a little more than human, don’t you think?”

“More than,” he said. “Not other than.”

She could agree with that. He was definitely more than other men – and shifters – to her.

Which was why she was so alarmed.

“Good,” she said. “Then perhaps you’re ready for your next challenge.” She strode past him into the bedroom and stood with her back to the mirror. He would be able to watch himself, see signs of shifting before he felt them.

He closed the door, locked it, and turned, his gaze sliding over the bulky coat she wore. His mouth curved in a devilish smile. “If you’re trying to hide your charms, don’t bother.” He took a step toward her, his voice dropping. “I remember too well how you taste, how you look. How it feels to be buried inside you, watching you come, making you mine.”

Her throat went dry. “Are you ready for our lesson?” Her voice was low and rough.

“Oh, I’m ready,” he said, sauntering over. “But I’m not sure you are. You seem a little shy tonight.” He bent down and pressed his lips to the skittering pulse at the base of her throat, just above the thick collar of her jacket that was buttoned up to her chin.

“I’m simply concerned you won’t be able to maintain your human form during your inevitable arousal.” She tilted her head back to enjoy the sensation of his tongue exploring her neck.

His fingers deftly unfastened the coat, starting at her neck and working downward. “Concerned about my arousal, are you?” He slipped his hands under the thick fabric, closed them over her shoulders, and moved them down her arms. Like a cracked shell, the coat fell to the floor.

And then he kissed her on the mouth. It went on for a long, slow, burning minute, and she melted against him, forgetting who was teaching whom, forgetting why. There was only the pressure of his lips and tongue and hands and then—

The Beat of his heart blending with hers. Thundering in her chest next to her own.

Zach, she thought.

Sophia, she heard him say.

Thrilling with their union, she threaded her arms around his neck and slanted her mouth to deepen the kiss. It was as if they were one person, one not-entirely-human creature, just a force of love and longing blended together in a churning, burning fire.

And then she felt the bristling hairs on the back of his neck and remembered all those important things she’d forgotten a second ago.

He was shifting.

She was supposed to be teaching him how to control himself.

Reluctantly she ran her tongue over one of his sharpening teeth before she pulled her face away. “Stop,” she said softly.

His grip around her waist only tightened. “I want you,” he growled, lunging forward to kiss her again.

“No,” she said. “You’re shifting.” She used a martial arts move to free herself from his strong grip and stepped back, ready to use more force if necessary.

It wasn’t necessary. He shook his head, blinking hard, and the hint of wolf in his beard, eyes, and jaw disappeared. “I’m fine now. It was just— You— We—” He fell silent and drew a hand over his eyes. “I’ve never felt anything like it.”

“I know. Me either.” She wasn’t afraid to admit it. He needed to understand they were dealing with something unusual here for both of them. “Look at me.”

He inhaled deeply before dropping his hand and looking at her. She stood before him in the dress she’d chosen so carefully. Well, it was an exaggeration to call it a dress. It might have been intended as a nightgown—but not for sleeping. Just a tight bit of fabric a woman would stretch over herself to hide just the parts that were most desirable, hint at a few others, and expose the rest. And she had lots of “the rest” to show.

She put her hands to either side of her breasts and lifted them for him to admire. The black silk over her erect nipples was transparent. The swell of her breasts strained for freedom over the top seam of the tiny cups. Thin spaghetti straps arced over her shoulders, dipped under her arms, and crisscrossed in the back. Her back was bare otherwise. The fabric that covered her ass was cut low enough to expose an alluring top portion of each round, generous cheek and the cleft between them.

It really was quite a garment. She’d found it in Paris, of course.

As he drank in the sight of her, his eyes glazed over—and began to turn a golden hue. Teeth elongated. Hair thickened.

“If you shift, I leave,” she said.

With a violent shudder, he regained control. The wolf features faded away, leaving a devastatingly handsome but desperately frustrated man. He turned away from her and buried his face in his hands—soft and only lightly dusted with hair—again. “I can’t help it. I see you and… you’re so… I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. I’m like a starving man. You’re the meal I’ve dreamed of all my life.”

“If you don’t get a grip on that wolf shape, dreaming is all you’ll be doing, Zach.”

“You feel nothing when you look at me? You don’t—”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t want to shift?” He cleared his throat. “Never mind. I get it. You’ve done this a million times before.” He gave a frustrated laugh.

“Hey,” she said.

“I mean—shifting. Controlling that.”

“That’s not what you meant,” she said.

“All right.” He ran a hand through his hair, smiling apologetically. The shirt he’d been wearing had been pulled apart by his partial shift and hung loosely from his heavily muscled biceps. “What I meant was, you have experience with controlling your… lust. This crazy lust that makes me totally lose it.”

“I have more experience with that to a degree,” she said. “But…”

He waited.

“This is different for me too,” she continued. “Unique, even. I can’t imagine how you’re managing to adjust to the shifting maturity as well as—” She hesitated, fearing he’d reject her again, argue about what this was, but then found the courage to press on. “As well as the shock of finding your One.” She lifted her chin, daring him to deny it.

“Sophia, I don’t know about any of that,” he said, “but it makes me feel a little better to think you’re going a little nuts here too.”

“Oh,” she said feelingly, “I am. Very much so.”

He laughed. Held out his arms, a naughty smile teasing his lips. “Then let’s try again. Maybe you’ll break first this time.”