I glanced at the images on my laptop. Nearly two dozen werewolves,
none of whom had woken after last night. Things were fucked.
The elevator binged in the hallway, and moments later, claws scratched
on my door.
I swung it open, revealing a beautiful wolf with silken fur and pale blue
eyes that sparkled with laughter like sun on a mountain lake.
My muscles stiffened as I caught the aroma of her body wafting through
the air. I scented the subtle spark of lust that rose from her, hidden as it was
beneath a storm of confusion, fear, and dread.
My own wolf surged in my chest, demanding to be free, to go to her, but I
forced him down. I had to stay in control.
“Why the hell are you a wolf?” I snapped.
She raised her tail and trotted in, broadcasting, Being a wolf is way more
fun.
“We need to talk. As humans. Did you bring…clothes?”
She shook her fur. Don’t need them.
My skin itched as frustration took hold. As Savannah sniffed around my
apartment, I texted Sam: Savannah’s here. Bring clothes. Urgent.
I stalked into the bathroom and grabbed a towel.
If it had been any other wolfborn, I wouldn’t have cared. We respected
each other’s natural form, which was part of who and what we were. But
Savannah was still new to this, and I knew she wasn’t comfortable in the
same way.
Moreover, while I was used to seeing other wolves naked, I already knew
there was no way I could see my mate standing nude before me and keep my
thoughts straight. And with shit hitting the fan, I needed my mind sharp.
I thrust the towel forward and turned my head. “Shift. We have to talk.”
She hopped up on the couch. Her lips pulled back to show her fangs, and
the hair on her back bristled as she growled. No. I am never shifting back.
Ever.