Russell—“Rusty” to his friends—Higgins looked out over the forest and sniffed. The wind brought the smell of something unexpected. Rain? Or something else? He could smell the coming storm. It was still a little while away, but it was definitely going to bring some kind of moisture.

Shaking his shoulders free of his shirt, he shivered in the sudden cold air that struck his bare skin. His muscles contracted across his ripped chest as he stretched his arms toward the sky. It was nearly time for him to take his wolf form and roam the woods on his nightly patrol.

He folded his shirt, shaking it free of leaves from where he’d been laying on the ground just moments before. His thoughts were jumbled, not just by the feelings of unease that permeated his mind, but by a conversation he’d had earlier that day with his distant cousin, Sheriff Kasun.

Rusty hated being boxed into a corner, and his cousin had just given Rusty an ultimatum he wasn’t willing to accept. He liked the freedom of being in the forest, with no demands greater than those necessary for survival in the woods. The needs and wants of the human world exhausted him. If he had a choice, he would never leave his beloved woods. But that might not be an option for him much longer.

While Rusty prepared himself for the change, he replayed the brief conversation he’d had with his cousin in the store that morning.

“Choices,” the sheriff had said, “aren’t always of our choosing. Sometimes the choices are made for us. You know we would like you to return to the pack. I wish you would think about it. The choice is yours, of course. But we would welcome you back.”

The memory of that conversation resurfaced as he watched the sun give way to the night in a sky flushed pink and gold, chased by the deeper blue of gathering dusk.

“Curse you, cousin,” Rusty said softly to the night air. “I like my life just the way it is.” And he did. He was happy being alone.

Like a petulant boy, told he couldn’t have that extra cookie, Rusty stuck out his chin in defiance. Why did he have to disturb his way of life? Why did he have to make a choice? All he wanted to do was roam his beloved woods, keep to himself in his cabin, and not interact much with the people of the town unless he had to. That was how it had been for too many years to count, so why did he have to change his life?

Havenwood Falls had existed on the edge of discovery for generations too numerous for him to count. He didn’t like the idea of having to join the Kasun pack again. Just because he was a wolf-shifter didn’t mean he had to be in a pack, at least not in his mind. Rusty understood how some might like that feeling of camaraderie and unity that a pack brought to a group of the supernaturals, but he had always been a loner, and he wasn’t about to change that, no matter what his cousin wanted.

His woods, his trees, and the animals that occupied the environs of the kingdom he protected were all he needed to survive. He was most content here, on this land. Something about these woods calmed him, soothed his soul, and he wasn’t willing to give it up for a house in town complete with the wife and 2.2 children the rest of the pack seemed to find satisfying.

For him, the confines of four walls would be like a prison, no matter the pretty trappings. His forest was the only home he needed. His cabin was sparse, barely furnished with only the pieces he’d made from the offerings the forest gave him. His own two hands had constructed the cabin years before. He had a generator to run the electricity that powered the lights. Although he preferred the romance of firelight for the most part, he conceded that a good electric lamp was a blessing when reading after dark.

His cabin was a tight little building with a sleeping loft above the main floor, and wide beams in a dark wood lined the ceiling. His bedroom was on the ground floor, with a rough bathroom just off it. The kitchen, which held a refrigerator and a table with two chairs, was cozy. He rarely used the second chair, though, as he discouraged visitors. There were no pictures on the walls, and no curtains were necessary on the windows, as his cabin was secluded in the woods.

He was not an ugly man, his body kept fit by his nightly patrols in the forest, his hair a rusty brownish-red that gave him his nickname, which was also a variation of his given name. His eyes, a deep chocolate brown, seemed to appeal to the women he sought for comfort, none of whom had ever been to his home. He preferred to meet them away from his cabin.

So far, none had roused his mating desire, merely his body’s need for momentary comfort. He wasn’t a cruel man, though. He always let the women know it was not their attractions, or lack thereof, that couldn’t hold him, but rather his need to roam was too strong. He never gave out false hope. While a woman might turn his attentions down based on those terms, there was always someone else willing to take her place.

Sometimes he worried he was too careful, that he would have no one to pass on his legacy to, but when those doubts crept in, Rusty usually brushed them aside, knowing in his heart that the right woman would come along. He had decided a long time ago he would not settle for less than his perfect mate.

“Time to go,” he whispered to himself, surprised at how he was suddenly so melancholy. What had set off this strange mood? He quickly took off the rest of his clothes, sliding pants down strong lean thighs, already furring with his signature rusty color. His boots had already been kicked off, his socks placed neatly inside the boots.

He slipped off his remaining clothes and stood naked in the waning light of the sun. He stretched to his full height, straightening his spine, reveling in the feel of the night’s chill wind on his bare skin.

That brief moment before he became the wolf was fraught with so many questions. Would it hurt this time? Would he survive the night and return to his human form with the sunrise, or would he forget the rules and end up a wolf forever? He had only once come close to remaining in wolf form, and it was not an experience he wanted to repeat. The way his mind had gone from human to wolf and refused to return to his intelligent thinking had been a fluke—at least he’d thought so at the time. But now, with many changes gone past that nearly tragic day, he’d come to understand the true consequence of allowing the wolf full control of his mind and body, and he knew he’d never allow it to happen again.

The tingling that signaled the beginning of the change intensified, and he turned toward the distant horizon to watch where the sun sank lower in the sky as it slipped away from view.

Where the setting sun touched his body, he glowed with a highlight of red that set fire to his skin. He closed his eyes, face raised upward to welcome the moon, his mistress. What need had he of a woman, when he could be anything he wanted by the silvery light of the white orb that welcomed his change with such hunger each night?

Bending down, he stuffed his clothes and boots into the backpack that lay next to them. He quickly placed the backpack in his hiding place; when he changed back into his human form, he would need those clothes once more. The discomfort that signaled the change was growing stronger, and he knew his time in this human form was growing shorter. It wouldn’t do to begin the transformation without taking care of his clothes first. He’d forgotten once to do that, and the end result had been a walk home without any, not something he wanted to make a practice of, not that anyone saw him this deep in the woods. Still, one never knew who might be hiking or wandering the woods these days. He breathed a sigh of relief when all was ready.

In moments, he felt the familiar stirrings of his body’s shift. The pain had long ago become something less than euphoric, but he still shivered with the anticipation of what would come next.

He crouched down as his body began the transformation into its supernatural wolf form. His teeth elongated and his limbs shortened and thickened, their muscles popping and snapping as they reshaped.

He howled, unable to stop the primal reaction to his new form, and shook his fur into place. Lifting his head, he looked around and howled at the moon once more. It was a long, extended howl, one meant to announce his arrival to both the forest and himself. He liked giving fair warning.

His mouth curved into a fierce smile, one that might frighten children, although he was a gentle wolf, not like some of his brethren who liked to rip out the throats of their victims. He rarely fed while in this shape, though the restraint took all his willpower, but his teacher, the one who’d long ago taught him about being a wolf shape, had warned him that if you forgot your humanity and became the beast, you could never go back. Human blood was the surest way to cross that line. No matter how angry he became, he never allowed himself to reach the point of no return. There had been times over the years when his willpower had been tested by poachers, or butchers as he liked to refer to them, who thought the forest was their supermarket. He’d met some such hunters not long ago, but since that encounter, they’d pretty much stayed away from his forest.

He’d heard rumors when he was in town of a couple guys in the bar talking about doing the town a favor by ridding them of “that beast,” but they’d been convinced by Sheriff Kasun to leave the woods alone and to stay away if they knew what was good for them.

That was what had brought his cousin out to see him in the first place, but the battle to bring Rusty into the pack had been an ongoing one for quite a while. While his attempts to coerce Rusty to the fold were half-hearted, his reasons were not. Rusty was aware of the difficulties facing the supernaturals as the human world crept closer to their secrets, but he wasn’t yet ready to give up his freedom. This forest was his home—end of story. Warnings about the humans and to be wary of them had been part of his life for a long time. Not encroaching on their world too much was a constant dance of vigilance he was willing to choreograph as long as it meant he could remain free to go where he pleased. So eating a human, even ones who deserved it, were not on his to-do list.

Fear of that permanent change, and how it would keep his human side from being in greater control, was something he kept in his mind always. He might feed if a small animal happened to cross his path while he was running, but most in the forest now knew him and stayed in their homes until he’d passed by. He ignored them, and they had all learned to exist together.

As his mind slowly became the mind of the wolf, his alter ego’s intelligence almost as great as Rusty’s, the man stretched his wolf legs and began his nightly prowl.

Sniffing the air, he caught whiff of an unfamiliar scent and turned his nose in that direction. His super-sensitive ears caught the sound of a car, and fearing it might be more poachers, he headed in that direction, his pads making soft footfalls on the forest floor as he hurried toward the road.