“Do you need help getting undressed?”
Izzy froze at Luke’s loaded question. Fingers tangled in her bootlaces, she remembered how he’d helped her last night. The feel of his hot hands and even hotter gaze burning on her skin still lingered. She blushed right to her hairline.
“Um, no,” she said. “I—uh... I think I’ve got it.”
The damned man grinned at her. “Let me know if you change your mind,” he said as he unbuttoned his shirt.
“Wait!”
“Something wrong?”
Yes! You’re taking off your clothes. “Uh...” When his shirt slipped from his shoulders—his very broad shoulders—she forgot what she was going to say. Scanning his yard, she prayed something helpful might materialize out of the trees. It didn’t.
Seemingly reading her mind, he said, “We’re werewolves, Isabelle. The change is much easier if you’re not hampered by clothing. I told you, nudity is a standard state of affairs around here.”
Logical. Embarrassing. And inappropriately arousing given that Luke was preparing to lead her on a run through the woods.
“Fine,” she said. “Um, can you turn around, at least?”
“It’s not like we haven’t both seen the whole show before, sugar.” His long fingers worked the button on his jeans.
Despite the cold and snow, Izzy started sweating. “You know that’s not the point.”
His eyes glimmered with amusement. “Fine. Fine. I’ll turn my back. You don’t have to, though. I’m not shy.”
“Oh, shut up.” It wasn’t like she wanted to check him out. Much.
His laugh echoed off the trees and birds twittered back at him.
“Jackass,” she muttered to his continued laughter, and turned away from him. After undressing, she shivered in the afternoon sun, her feet turning to ice. She would not look at him. Nope. Not gonna happen.
She peeked.
And suddenly, it didn’t seem so cold out. There were marble statues in museums that didn’t have butts as firm as Luke’s. And his back—
“Are you ogling me, sugar?”
To her shame, she squeaked. If Freddie ever heard her make that ridiculously girly noise there’d be no end to her mortification. “N-no. Of course not.”
Luke turned his head slightly, not enough to see her, more like to catch her scent on the breeze. He grinned. “Liar.”
Damned freaking bloodhound. “Now what?” she asked over her shoulder, hoping he’d let the moment slide.
“Yeah. I was afraid you were gonna say that.”
“Come on. It’s freezing in our skin. I promise to get you all the chocolate milk you can drink later. Let your wolf out, Isabelle.”
Right. The wolf. Izzy scrunched up her face and waited for the pain to start. Five seconds passed. Ten. Well, what are you waiting for, wolf? Let’s go, before I freeze off something important. Ten more seconds. Still no change. Not even some extra hair on her legs.
“Problem?” Luke asked, making her jump.
As her misted breath dissipated over the back of his head, it dawned on her that he was suddenly standing right in front of her. With his back turned. Unlike her. “Shit!”
He chuckled. “Why so embarrassed? I did say you could look.”
“Uh—” Her cheeks burned and she rubbed a hand over her eyes as if she could erase the fact that she’d cheated. “I know. I—ugh. This is stupid. Can you turn back around, please?”
“You sure?”
Was she? No. Yes. Uh, maybe? Damn it. It wasn’t like she was a virgin or prude. Why the hell did she keep acting like one?
“I told you, nudity is a standard state of affairs around here.”
Because he was a werewolf.
For the love of—she would have smacked herself in the head for her density, but she’d already had a concussion this week. “Yes,” she said finally. “This is one more thing left over from my grandmother and I’m not playing her games anymore.”
Slowly, Luke turned. The shining sun turned his eyes emerald. He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, smiling at her like she’d thrown the winning pass in the Super Bowl. “Brave wolf.”
She couldn’t look him in the eye. “Not really.”
A gentle hand cupped her chin and tilted her face up until she met his brilliant gaze. “Yes, really.”
The distance between them shrank until his lips hovered millimeters above hers. His warmth surrounded her, though he didn’t touch her anywhere else but her chin. Despite the winter chill and snow, he smelled like a perfect autumn day, all sun-warmed stone and fallen leaves. She’d like to curl up in his heat and stay for a very long time.
A shudder ran through him and he closed his eyes. “Ah, sugar. How you tempt me.” She gasped, but he was already pulling back, his hand dropping from her face. He cleared his throat. “Okay. Right. Changing. You were having trouble?”
Crap. Changing. Now she was the one closing her eyes. Suck it up, Meyers. You need to do this. “Um...well, how do I do it again? Nothing was really happening.”
“It’s fine. Relax. Take a breath and listen to your wolf. Don’t worry. She’ll like it out here. We can play.”
Play. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It is.”
“For you. You’ve been doing this—how long?”
“Since I was four.”
“Four?” Her shout scattered the birds.
Luke shrugged. “I was precocious.”
“Your poor mother.”
“She loves to remind me how saintlike she is,” he said. “No more stalling. Rissa and my bloodthirsty saint of a mother will kill me if I don’t get you back on time for dinner. Close your eyes and take a deep breath. Remember the feel of fur on your skin, and the wind in your ruff. Breathe in the scents around you: pine, cedar, and birch. The snow and earth. Let her out.”
Izzy followed his instructions and she barely had time to register the buzzing sound in her head before pain washed over her.
Here we go again.
* * *
Once again, Izzy was stuck inside the wolf, fighting anxiety that bordered on hysteria. Was this dark, cold void where the wolf stayed? Condemned to observe but unable to act or effect any kind of change whatsoever? If so, she couldn’t blame the beast for hating her.
A growl rumbled through the beast’s body and echoed around Izzy. It continued, on and on, like the buzzing did when she wore her own skin.
“Stop. It hurts,” Izzy whispered.
The racket ended suddenly, replaced by a strange, almost inaudible sound like the hum of overhead lighting. It grew louder until she realized she could feel the noise, too. The soft, pulsing pressure enveloped her and reminded her of the time Hank and Abby had taken them to the ocean. Izzy had stood for a long time in the rolling waves, letting them push and pull at her legs.
The undulating power had a rhythm to it, a certain cadence like someone speaking—someone she recognized.
No way. Impossible.
Was Luke trying to talk to her? Could the human half of the weres communicate with each other in their animal forms? Logically, it would make sense for the wolves to have a way to communicate in this form. But did it go beyond simple canine body language and vocalizations? Could the humans speak with one another, too?
Insane. But what the hell did logic have to do with anything when dealing with shape-shifting and magic?
She really should have asked more questions before they shifted.
Another squeeze and tug. Luke? She didn’t understand it, but as soon as she accepted that it was possible he was trying to talk to her, some of her panic drained away on that ebb and flow.
She wasn’t alone in the dark.
Luke’s wolf barked once, a high, happy sound. Then he ran toward the trees, sending up great plumes of fluffy snow in his wake. Awkward, Izzy’s wolf leapt after the black beast, her paws slipping and sliding. A fallen tree lay in her path and she stumbled, then scrambled over it, trying to catch up.
The black wolf watched her clumsy advance with his tail held high, waving back and forth. A long, pink tongue hung out of his open mouth.
Warmth blanketed Izzy in her strange, cold, not-there space. She heard the blood thrumming in her wolf’s veins and realized her wolf felt happy, too. Especially when the black beast lowered his front body to the ground with his hind end angled up.
He wanted to play.
Izzy’s wolf raced toward him, and just as she reached him, he reared up to dance on his hind legs. His front paws batted at her with a soft touch on the shoulder and back. She ducked out of the way and pounced on him from the side. He twisted and nipped gently at her chin, chuffing, before darting away.
He was so fast and his legs were so much longer than her wolf’s, Izzy didn’t think they could catch him. But the black wolf ran only a few dozen feet before he paused and looked over his shoulder, waiting. Her wolf ran alongside him and together, they took off running, their sides rubbing occasionally. Whenever a difficult patch of terrain loomed ahead, the black wolf moved ahead and gently turned them.
If Izzy’d had a body at the moment, she would have keeled over. Them. Them? Could she really be thinking of herself and the wolf as a team?
Her wolf yipped, a scent tickling her nose. The black wolf stopped and twitched his ears, his nostrils flared. The scent was good and it made her stomach rumble with hunger, her mouth flood with saliva.
No. Not her stomach. Not her mouth.
Good as.
The thought was not her own.
They ran up a short incline. The scent grew stronger and a small shadow broke from behind a tree and darted toward a tangle of undergrowth.
Izzy’s wolf—or maybe it was Izzy, she couldn’t tell anymore—barked in surprise and let her body loose. Without thought, Izzy and her wolf bounded over the snow, closing the distance in seconds, cutting off their prey. It felt good, so good, to let their muscles stretch and bunch, explode into action.
The small animal—a rabbit—almost made it to cover but they were faster, and they pounced on their prey. Almost instantly, they had it under their teeth. Blood, hot and wet, rushed into their mouth as they crushed the creature’s throat in their jaws. It twitched, its little paws patting at their throat. It stopped after a few seconds and the lopsided fight was over.
They raised their head, keeping their catch between their paws. The black wolf walked toward them slowly. Instinct said to crouch over their prey, guard it from the other wolf. A growl prickled in their chest, but his expression stopped them. He looked pleased, proud. As he should. Stopping about six feet away, he sat on his haunches and nodded at them. Then he lay down, watching them intently.
Their stomach rumbled and they tore into their meal, gulping down warm mouthfuls of meat. It slid down their throat in rich bunches, filling them with satisfaction. When they finished, they looked up. The black wolf still watched them, a grin on his fierce face. He came over and licked their muzzle, cleaning the blood from their fur.
Dazed, they blinked and he stepped back, bowing down. Without warning, he pronged at them before tearing off into the woods.
More play.
Izzy and her wolf raced into a small clearing and he cut off their path. He tackled them to the ground, rolling them over and over in the snow. They landed on their back, paws in the air. He loomed over them, smiling and panting, his breath hot on their face. With a happy bark he licked their muzzle again and lay down next to them, curling his warm body around theirs.
Alpha, they thought, relaxing.
They and the Alpha stayed like that while the clouds passed overhead, the sun moving low in the sky. When the shadows lengthened, crawling across the snow like dark fingers, Alpha rose and shook the snow from his coat.
They rose, too, and followed him home.