Bitten 2 (22 page)

Maintaining my glare for a second longer as if to say “I’ll deal with
you
later,” I turned my attention back to the rest of the group and replied, “Ah, no. I’m not really cut out for pack life.”

I braced myself for the shock that was sure to come, or worse yet, a sales pitch, and was surprised when all I got in reply was a simple “That’s cool. Glad you decided to come out with us.”

I felt more of my tension drifting away as the group exchanged friendly chatter, catching each other up on the latest happenings at work and school. Much to Brandon’s embarrassment, his mom gushed about the pretty young were he’d been spending a lot of time studying with lately. Even I couldn’t stop myself from laughing when his dad cracked a joke about how the amount of time his son spent doing “stuff” in the bathroom was directly tied to how much time he spent with his new
friend
.

“Alright, you mangy fur balls, cut the chatter. I’d like to be back before dawn,” Hank said with a commanding edge to his voice that was softened by the smile he gave the group. The good natured teasing stopped at the pack master’s words, though they continued to share amused smiles and meaningful looks while Brandon appeared to sag in relief.

As everyone broke away to prepare for the change, I sidled up to Hank.

“You handled that nicely.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he replied even as the sparkle in his eyes deepened with his smile.

I glanced at the group just in time to see Juliet whip her shirt off over her head and wiggle out of her sweat pants, and felt my cheeks warm while my eyes grew wide. Her nipples stiffened in the cold air, but she exhibited no other signs of discomfort at being naked in front of the group. It didn’t take long for everyone else to start shedding items of clothing. Only Brandon appeared to share my embarrassment as he pulled off his shirt before turning his back on everyone to shuck his jeans.

I’d always considered myself to be open minded when it came to nudity. When you spend half your time naked shifting from one form to another, you get over being squeamish about nudity pretty damn quick. Turns out, I’m only cool about seeing my own body. When it comes to seeing other people’s wobbly bits, I’m not as free thinking as I’d thought.

“Everything okay?” Hank asked in a low rumble, drawing my gaze back to him.

The involuntary shift of my eyes that took in his shirtless state had me fighting a war against my own body as every reflex in me fought to pull my gaze down to his naked crotch. My gaze got as far as the well-defined ridges of his abs before I wrestled my rampant hormones back under control and raised my eyes to meet his.

Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look...

“Ah... fine. I’m fine,” I squeaked in reply, my eyes sliding south despite my best efforts. They’d made it as far as his belly button, surrounded by a light dusting of dark gold hairs, before his purring voice drew my attention back up to his face again.

“So... you going to shift like that?” he asked, eyeing my shirt.

“Um... no.”

Feeling as though my face might burst into flames at any moment, I peeled off my t-shirt, scrunching it up into a ball before shoving it into the gym bag Hank held out to me. Casting my gaze around the group, all of whom were busy talking amongst themselves rather than watching me, I popped the button on my jeans. That was when I made the mistake of looking up into Hank’s eyes.

The instant our eyes connected, I felt the earth drop out from under my feet as the world melted away. His eyes still shone ice blue, but I could feel the heat of his wolf lurking just behind their gleaming surface. The wolf studied me with interest, measuring me up and gauging my worthiness, and I felt my own wolf rise from the depths to answer the unspoken call. Gritting my teeth, I barely managed to stop myself from shifting on the spot, though the effort left me trembling.

Silence fell on the group as the spicy scent of my wolf perfumed the air, and all eyes turned in my direction, Brandon’s already bleeding over to the shining gold of the wolf. One unpredictable wolf was bad enough, but two of us losing control at the same time was sure to be a disaster.

Hank’s voice was rougher than I had ever heard it when he issued a command to his sister. “Juliet, take everyone into the woods. Go start the run without us. Riley and I will be along soon.”

I half expected her to argue, and was relieved when she simply nodded and ushered the group toward the trees. For a moment Brandon didn’t look like he would cooperate, his narrow shoulders trembling with the effort of maintaining control over the wolf, but after a few tense moments his dad was able to draw him away with a hand on his shoulder. As they disappeared into the deep shadows of the forest I turned my gaze back to Hank and found him studying me with a curious expression.

“What the hell was that?” I asked, my voice thick and rough.

“I’m not sure,” Hank replied, continuing to watch me closely. “Can you shift?”

The wolf was so close to the surface that I almost snapped at him that it was the dumbest question I’d ever heard, but settled for just nodding instead. Toeing off my sneakers, I slipped out of my jeans, no longer embarrassed at the thought of him seeing me naked. My thoughts were wholly focused on the need to shift, the desire to be that other self burning like an itch in my skin.

“Okay, go ahead. I’ll wait until you’re done,” Hank said, stepping back to give me ample space.

Swallowing the lump of nervousness that had formed in the back of my throat, I nodded, and closing my eyes, reached out towards the wolf. The faintest whisper of my desire to shift brought her bursting forth in a howling rush, the force of the change wrenching a strangled scream from my throat. I felt my body split apart, skin and tendons tearing and bones breaking as she emerged.

Once upon a time, the change had been a slow, languorous thing full of tingling pleasure and thrilling pain, but in recent months it had become a thing of pain and speed—over before it had begun. She had been growing stronger, lingering closer to the surface after each shift, always ready for the chance to come out and play. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the connection that had been severed between Samson and me, or if it had something to do with Holbrook and his crackling energy that caressed my skin every time we touched. Whatever the reason, the wolf’s increasing strength both thrilled and terrified me.

Before I could drop down to my hands and knees to make the shift easier, I was staring down at a pair of massive tawny paws, panting in rapid, wheezing breaths. My sight had shifted to the wolf’s sharper clarity, but was speckled with pulsing black sparkles as I fought to maintain my tenuous grip on consciousness. Tremors prickled along my flanks and made my legs shake, leaving me unsteady on my feet.

“You okay?” a deep voice asked, and for a terrifying moment I didn’t recognize its owner. My ears lay flat against my skull as my lips pulled back from my teeth in a reflexive snarl. The intruder was a threat, and there was only one way to deal someone who would do us harm.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

AFTER A FEW tense moments during which I wavered between ripping Hank’s throat out and turning to hide under the car, I convinced the wolf that he wasn’t a threat. Dipping my head into a slow nod to let him know I was okay, and in control, I watched with amazement as he shifted.

Giving me one last look as if to make sure that I wasn’t going to go berserk, he closed his eyes and turned his face up toward the sky. At first I thought it was a trick of the moonlight on the carved angles of his cheeks, but as I continued to watch him I became certain that his expression had melted into one of absolute calm. It seemed impossible that he could welcome the shift with such serenity, yet when the change started to flow over him it became obvious why he possessed none of the tension and fear I felt.

I’d had few opportunities to watch the change take place. Seeing Hank change was like watching the rolling waves of the ocean—a fluid dance of give and take. The transition from one form to another was smooth, almost graceful, as bones moved and changed shape beneath bronze skin that sprouted a thick coat of dappled brown and cream fur. While my own transition had begun to feel like a barely contained explosion, Hank’s was a thing of beauty.

When his shift was complete, I stood face to face with one of the world’s most dangerous creatures. Everyone knows weres are bigger than our animal counterparts; I’d witnessed the difference myself when I ran on four legs, but I’d never seen a wolf as large as Hank.

A typical timber wolf ranges in weight from 80lbs to 100lbs; the average were, however, can clock in much higher, resulting in an animal far closer to the size of a Great Dane than a wolf. Hank was easily pushing 270lbs, if not more, and looked to be almost four and a half feet tall. A thick ruff of black tipped fur surrounded his neck like a collar and extended in a line down his spine. He was a powerful, healthy alpha, and would have been prime mate material if the wolf had had even the slightest interest in him. As it was, it seemed that my attraction to the pack master stemmed from my human half alone. The wolf appreciated his perceived strength, but that was all. She had chosen Holbrook as her mate, and not even Hank could change her mind.

Just as Hank’s shift was the opposite of mine, so too was his recovery period. Almost immediately, he was padding towards me on massive, silent paws, while I was still reeling from the violence of the change. Moonlight rippled along his mottled flanks, highlighting the movements of the powerful muscles beneath. Stopping a few feet away he regarded me with eyes the color of a blazing summer sunset, and waited.

The wolf instinctively knew that the proper way to greet a dominant member of the pack was to crouch close to the ground and turn our muzzle upwards in supplication. It was, no doubt, what Hank expected me to do, and what any other were with half a brain would have done. But then, I’ve never been known to play by the rules. Having no inclinations to submit to the pack master, I remained standing with wide-set legs. When it became obvious that I wasn’t going to cower like a scared pup or roll over to expose my belly in submission, he slid forward another step or two, accentuating our disparity in size. It was an obvious ploy to intimidate me, but I was used to being smaller than most people, and simply twitched my tail in the canine version of a shrug.

The minute flick of his ears was the only indication of irritation he gave before resorting to more traditional methods of testing my strength.

Just as it had during our first meeting at The Vine, Hank’s energy smacked into me with the force of a dump truck trying to bowl me over, and, just as I had then, I stood my ground. The fact that I was expecting it helped a little in fighting off the instinctual urge to bow to him, but that didn’t mean it was a walk in the park, either. Every muscle in my body was wound tight with the strain of fighting against him until I was sure that my bones would snap into splinters. I wanted to snarl at him that I’d never surrender to him or any other wolf, but opted instead for staring him down while trying to telegraph my thoughts through his thick skull.

I will not bow to you
.

A long, silent moment stretched out as Hank sized me up, and, I imagine, decided whether or not to punish me for such a blatant display of insolence. I didn’t doubt that an alpha like Yakov had killed wolves for lesser infractions, but luckily for me, Hank wasn’t the ruthless Czech.

At least I hope not,
I thought as the seconds continued to slip by and Hank showed no sign of backing off
.

Finally, as if coming to some kind of decision, he let out a short huff, and closed the distance between us, sliding the length of his body along mine in greeting, and as a sign of equal footing. Tossing his head towards the trees, he turned and loped across the grass in long, rolling strides. As soon as he turned his back, I let out the breath I’d been holding and counted myself lucky that he hadn’t demanded the obedience he undoubtedly thought was his due.

I’d never visited Deer Creek Canyon on four legs, but the similarity of the landscape to that around my cabin helped me slip further into the wolf’s awareness. Following the shape of Hank’s bushy tail weaving through the shadows and undergrowth, I entered a small clearing where the others had gathered to wait for us. Juliet was easy to spot, her pale coat appearing as fine as spider silk in the moonlight, and her golden eyes retaining the child-like excitement of her human form. I assumed that the lithe, dark wolf playfully nipping at Juliet’s flank was the brunette Sam, and the two silver muzzled wolves nuzzling each other were Derek and Gayle. I didn’t see Brandon with the others, but could sense him lingering in the trees close by.

A chorus of yips and woofs filled the air as we approached, and in quick order they took turns greeting their alpha with licks to his muzzle. Even Brandon, a gangly wolf with mottled brown and fawn colored markings, emerged from the shadows to greet Hank. Once everyone had taken their turn prostrating themselves before the alpha, six pairs of gleaming golden eyes studied me with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. Resisting the urge to shuffle my feet, I lifted my head high in defiance of the anxiety clawing at my gut.

Juliet, of course, was the first to approach me, moving forward on long, cream colored legs to nuzzle my cheek. It was a foreign exchange, and yet it felt natural to lean into her and return the gesture. The familiarity of her sweet cinnamon scent erased the last of my nervousness, and before I knew it, I was bounding after her, barking in exuberance.