Mason sat in his car, staring at the little paper sack with the two chocolate macarons. He had meant to take them into his parents’ place to have after dinner, yet there they were. Mocking the Oreos he had choked down instead. He didn’t know what it was about those stupid cookies, but he really didn’t care for them.

Which made these two macarons even more perfect.

He had reached up for them twice, tempted to eat one and cleanse the palette after the earlier dessert, but both times, he had pulled back. A smile came to his lips as an image of Emma stuffing one whole into her mouth flashed across his vision. Followed immediately by a tinge of regret.

Mason really, really needed to get out more. Either he had completely forgotten how to behave in public, or something about Emma wiped all sense of propriety from his brain. What had possessed him to try and feed her the damn macaron? Probably the same thing that had possessed him to half shift in front of her the first day they met.

Emma was a shifter. In a shifter community. And, she was gorgeous. Right down to the flour covered apron and smudge on her cheek. She just seemed so… normal. He didn’t know that shifters could be normal. His parents had spent so many years suppressing their spirit animals he didn’t even know if they could still shift. And him? Well. His existence certainly wasn’t normal. Whenever he shifted, he felt like he was breaking some unspoken law.

Like a criminal. Sneaking through shadows, shifting in dark alleys away from prying eyes. It was better in Troutdale. But old habits were hard to break.

Mason sighed, leaning back against the headrest with his eyes closed. It was nearly dark, and his porcupine was restless. He might as well go out. Sitting in his car staring at a pair of macarons was a little silly. Still, he grabbed the bag and dropped it into his leather satchel. He might want a snack later.

He had parked on the edge of town, a little pullout next to a hiking trail he had barely seen anyone use since he had gotten there. Mason suspected it might have something to do with an abundance of bears in the area, as proclaimed by a neon orange sheet of paper posted to the trail board. Just one more thing that baffled him about this town. They really were just part of life here. When he had asked the woman at the Main Street Diner about all the bear signs around town, she had merely shrugged and explained that they see a lot of them, but there are never any attacks. Just carry bear spray and make noise. Seemed to work just fine.

Given that, he imagined that Troutdale was an absolute gold mine for bear spray retailers. He had noticed, however, that there weren’t any signs about wolf danger. That had surprised him once he found out the high alpha was a wolf. Maybe they were just better about staying out of sight while prowling in wolf form.

Regardless, Mason had decided this was the best place to shift. He had only seen two other cars there in the last week, and not a single person. He stepped out of the car, dragging his satchel across the seat. His porcupine surged forward like an excited pup.

“Yeah, yeah.” Mason muttered, slinging the bag over his shoulder. He locked the car and checked once over his shoulder for company before moving a few yards down the trail to his grove of trees. He had picked it out on his first time at the trail. A handful of thick trunked trees, surrounded on the ground by bushes that had grown into a natural shelter, leaving a cavity just big enough for a human to hide in. From the trail, he was completely hidden from view if he went inside.

Mason pushed his way through the branches and dropped his satchel onto the ground. He flipped open the leather flap and removed his glasses, sliding them into their designated pocket. Next, he unbuttoned his dress shirt, folding it carefully to avoid any excess wrinkles, and placed it into the main compartment. He continued to strip down, methodically placing each discarded piece of clothing into the satchel. Finally, he pulled out a shower cap and wrapped it around his shoes before putting them inside. With a deep breath, he removed his underwear and tucked them into one of the shoes.

The cool night air rushed over his bare skin, and goosebumps spread across his arms and shoulders. He latched the satchel, pulled the strap tight. He shook it once, making sure none of his things would escape when jostled, and then set the bag back on the ground.

Crouched on the ground, curled into a ball, Mason let out a long breath, quills extending from his back and fur sprouting between his knuckles. His eyesight blurred slightly, though it wasn’t much worse than human Mason without his glasses.

His nose extended into a barrel snout and his sense of smell exploded. He could smell the dirt, moist and earthy. The bark of the trees, the sap running down them. He could smell the leather of his satchel and the hours old scent of his body wash still present on his clothing. And he could smell chocolate. The sweet, decadent filling. The macarons.

Mason shook, his quills clacking together, shedding the last of his human form. Then he picked up the strap of his satchel in his teeth and waddled out of the shelter. He had learned the hard way not to leave his clothes stashed in an unassuming corner. The first time it had happened, he’d still been in school and had to try and explain to his parents why he was suddenly missing a pair of shoes and one of his best shirts. Without telling them he had been shifting.

The second time… well, he didn’t like to think about that.

Mason dropped the strap of the satchel and rolled on top of it, shuffling around and spinning on top of it until he had managed to loop the strap twice around his neck and the satchel stayed balanced on his back. He and his porcupine had mastered the trick years ago. Sure, carrying around a satchel as a porcupine wasn’t ideal—or normal—but it saved him a lot of trouble in the long run. If no one saw him.

The sun had nearly set, and the woods were dark beneath the thick branches. Mason ambled along, letting his porcupine lead the way. He wanted to make it to the overlook, but he wasn’t in any hurry to get there. Trying to wrangle his porcupine into direct route was more effort than he cared to exert for the time being. So, he let his thoughts wander, occasionally nudging his spirit animal in the right direction.

Mason found his thoughts falling immediately back to Emma. Things had been going so well. Why had she shut down? She was a very complicated woman.

It wasn’t as if he was’ looking for a girlfriend or anything. At least, not actively. But he couldn’t deny the attraction to her. The chemistry was amazing.

The way she seemed so… alive around him. He had been watching her during the field day. As soon as she was on her own, she wilted. The smile and energy disappeared from her eyes, like she was simply going through the motions. Biding her time.

Then, when they were together, she bloomed. Smiles and laughter breaking through the wall of seriousness. Mason liked to think he was pretty laid back. He didn’t take life too seriously, a trait he attributed to his mother’s influence. She found ways to make things fun, even when life was a struggle. Mason certainly hadn’t come to Troutdale to take life seriously. Even if he’d had to reevaluate that consideration a little bit, given the ratio of shifters to mundanes and his experiences thus far.

Overall, things were going well. And he decided that Emma had withdrawn because of the idiotic move with the macaron. Easy explanation. Unacceptable lack of propriety on his part.

Mason’s porcupine perked up, dropping the bone it had been carrying for the last hundred yards.

Tuning in, Mason listened. Voices? They were still a distance away from the overlook and he hadn’t noticed signs of anyone else, though he hadn’t been paying super close attention.

The porcupine chattered its teeth in warning, and their quills elevated.

Mason shook his head, urging his spirit animal to relax. The damn thing was so skittish. Focusing in on their sense of smell, Mason breathed in slowly.

The heavy, earthy scent of bear floated on the air from ahead of them. It was fresh, maybe an hour or so old. The remains of a recent passage through the area. Mason didn’t think there was a bear close by now, though.

Then his nose caught the scent of something else. A sweet, subtle… familiar lavender and spun sugar. What would Emma be doing out here?

That was a stupid question. Mason didn’t own this section of the woods.

His porcupine relaxed at Mason’s realization and turned his focus back to the bone. Despite their practice, the porcupine still carried the strap of the satchel grudgingly, and had insisted on cramming as many other things in his mouth as he could carry. Mason was almost sure he did it just to make Mason have to clean off the bone and dirt saturated slobber from the strap when he shifted back.

Mason nudged the porcupine in the direction of the scent. As they moved closer, the voices separated into two. A female and—a male voice. Mason frowned. Maybe it wasn’t Emma. The scent of bear grew stronger as they moved closer, but so did the sweetness, not unlike the smell of the macarons in his bag.

Maybe he should turn around. The temptation of seeing Emma again fought against his flight instinct. Because it wasn’t just her that he was smelling. Not just her voice.

The terrain started to incline, and Mason kept his porcupine just off to the side of the trail, close enough to follow the track, but not out in the open. He didn’t know what he might be walking into, and he would rather see them before they saw him.

Mason crested the hill and froze.

Two people sat on the flat rock that jutted out from the hill overlooking Troutdale. The woman, stark naked with blonde hair loose in a wave down her back, had her armed looped around an equally naked man’s elbow.

Emma. And another man.

Everything suddenly made perfect sense. Emma had gone cold each time because she had another. Man.

Mason urged his porcupine to move back down the hill, and the creature let out an indignant shriek, nose stuffed into a particularly interesting spot in the dirt.

The voices halted, and even though Mason couldn’t see them, thanks to his stubborn ass spirit animal, he could feel the eyes peering through the darkness in search of the sound.

“Who’s there?” It was the man’s voice.

Emma shushed him. “Mason?”

Fuck. He really, really didn’t want to have to shift to get his porcupine back under control. For the moment, he was at least still hidden, but bears had a better sense of smell than porcupines did. And she had already pegged his presence.

Move, you blasted animal, Mason willed.

The porcupine grunted.

And ambled towards the overlook.

That…fucking porcupine.

Emma extracted her arm from Jordan’s, her heart pummeling in her chest. What the hell was Mason doing up here? This was seriously the last thing that she needed.

“Who is Mason?” Jordan hissed in her ear, his shoulders bristling with fur.

“New teacher at the school,” Emma hissed back, stepping off the rock. “Stay here.”

“Not likely. After what happened today? You’re crazy if I’m letting you go anywhere without me to protect you.” Jordan stepped down beside her.

She pushed him back into the rock. “He’s harmless. Stay here.”

Jordan swore, but sat back down.

“Mason, where are you?” Emma moved across the overlook, letting Mal follow his scent. He had to be shifted. She didn’t see a man anywhere. If not for Mal, she wouldn’t have noticed him in the first place.

The brush rustled to her left and Emma stopped, peering into the darkness.

A little help, Mal? She growled, annoyed at the unenhanced state of her vision.

Mal grunted and Emma’s vision cleared, the shadows becoming more defined.

There. Under a tree to her left, she found a porcupine unlike any she had ever seen before. Was it carrying a leather bag on its back? Emma had to bite back a laugh at the ridiculousness of it. Long white quills skewed out from underneath the bag, flattened against Mason’s back by the weight of whatever was inside it. She was almost sure he was trying to puff up, but the result was more like a spiky leather bag with a head.

The porcupine moved back and forth, shaking its head. It took one step forward and then one back. She felt Mal groan in… annoyance?

“Mason, is everything okay?”

The porcupine chattered its teeth and bit down. The leather strap in its mouth split in two and the bag fell to the ground.

Then the porcupine skittered off into the trees.

Emma frowned. What the hell was that all about? She considered following for a moment, then turned back to Jordan. The bag was still sitting there under the tree. Mason would be back. And she really hoped he hadn’t seen her snuggled up to Jordan.

“A porcupine?” Jordan asked, leaning back against the rock, arms crossed against his chest.

“There’s nothing wrong with porcupines.”

“If you say so.”

She elbowed Jordan in the ribs.

He sucked in a breath.

Emma jerked back. “Sorry. I forgot.”

“Thanks for that. It’s not like I got mauled by a grizzly or anything.”

“Sorry,” Emma said again.

A branch snapped from the direction the porcupine had gone.

Jordan narrowed his gaze at Emma and then stood up. “I’m gonna let you take care of that. Call me later, okay?”

Emma cringed and then nodded. She watched Jordan shift back into a bear and disappear into the woods.

“Will you please turn your back on me?”

Emma jumped, surprised to hear Mason’s voice. She spun around only to see a leg disappear behind a tree.

“I need to grab my bag. Please turn around.”

Emma bit her lip. Really? But she turned around anyway.

Leaves rustled behind her and she heard the release of a buckle and fabric rubbing and something—crinkly? She turned her head a little to get a better look.

“Don’t look.”

She whipped her head back around. Of all the things… a shy shifter.

Goosebumps ran along her arms as Mal chuckled.

“Mason, this is ridiculous. Can I turn around please?”

The buckle on the bag clinked and steps came up behind her. “Yes. You can turn around.”

“What are you doing up here?” Emma asked, taking in his less than normally manicured appearance.

A twig hung in his hair. It was hard to tell in the dark, but she was pretty sure he had a dirt smudge on his nose. His hands fiddled with the broken strap of the leather satchel. “Last I checked this was public property.” His voice was sharp and strained.

Emma took a step back. “Right. Stupid question, sorry.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you and your—well, I mean I tried not to intrude. My porcupine has a mind of its own sometimes. Worse than a kid most days. Anyway, I don’t want to interrupt.” He spun his hand around in a vague gesture towards the now empty rock.

What the heck was he even talking about?

It took everything Mason had to keep his eyes on her face. He was glad for the darkness, as he knew his cheeks were red. She was just standing there, like she didn’t even know that she was completely naked. And having seen her with that man, whoever he was, he felt like he was intruding, seeing something he didn’t have the right to see.

“No, it’s fine.” She said, running a hand through her loose hair. It fell over one shoulder, coming to rest just over the peak of her breast.

Mason shook his head and closed his eyes. She had a boyfriend. There was another man. He had read too much into her flirtatious nature.

Stop. Looking. At. Her. Breasts.

“I need to go.” He turned to bolt away. “It was, um, nice to see you.”

A hand found his arm, pulling him back. “Mason, don’t go. It really isn’t a big deal. Jordan isn’t—”

This was so awkward. Why wouldn’t she just let him leave?

Her hand fell away. “Jordan and I—it’s complicated. Not what it looks like.”

He really shouldn’t care. He just wanted out of there. “It’s fine. I get it.” He cringed. He sounded like a jealous prick. Maybe he was, but she had lead him on, at least a little bit. This wasn’t all on him. “I need to get back anyway. Papers to grade.”

He walked away, knuckles white around the strap of his broken satchel. If he stayed there, looking at her naked body… Well, his resolve would be non-existent. He hadn’t exactly been around a ton of naked women in his thirty years. Something about being a closet shifter.

How could he have been so stupid? He hadn’t even realized his brain had gone there. It served him right. This town—he blamed being here for his lapse. Letting himself get sucked into the shifter world. Maybe his parents had been right to suppress their spirit animals. It probably saved them a lot of grief.

“Mason, wait.” Emma called after him.

He didn’t look back. He wouldn’t let himself.

His porcupine prickled underneath his skin as they moved back into the cover of the trees, wanting to be free again.

“You blew that for the night, you little terrorist,” Mason grumbled aloud as he pushed aside a branch. It wasn’t until the next one hit him in the face that he realized he was walking through the trees instead of on the trail.

The porcupine didn’t have the lead. He did. And if he didn’t get his shit together, he was going to get eaten by a damn bear.

Boy, had that woman thrown him for a loop.