Nick and I talked for hours, until my throat was dry and my tongue felt swollen. It was hard, editing myself. I wanted to tell him everything. I wanted to tell him what it was like growing up in what was more of a wrestling league than a family. I wanted to tell him that I’d never reacted to anyone the way I reacted to him. I wanted to tell him about the mating urge and how it made me crazy for him, how I was expected to marry another wolf.
But every time I was on the verge of telling him, I’d get quiet and let him talk for a while about the places he’d grown up. Florida, Arizona, Texas, Georgia, California. I couldn’t imagine seeing so many places—the desert, the mountains, the beach. I envied him that, but at the same time, it broke my heart that he’d never had a real home. I couldn’t imagine living without a place to run back to, without people who—as much as they annoyed and needled me—loved me and accepted me for what I was. How did he live like that?
“China is like a hundred different countries in one. Crowded cities, sweeping mountains, huge, vast open plains, Scotland, India. India is so hot that you can actually taste the air, like spicy cotton candy,” he said. “Scotland was nice; the people were friendly. I’m pretty sure that’s where I ended up getting the tattoo, which just goes to show you that you shouldn’t get into drinking contests with people who have their own class of whiskey named after them.” He turned his back and pulled up the hem of his shirt to reveal a red lion on his shoulder, the kind you might see on some old English battle flag.
I thought maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to see those places. I wouldn’t ever want to live anywhere but the valley. But it might be interesting to go where Nick had gone, to see what he’d seen. But my opinion was probably being swayed by the fact that he was practically shirtless.
Long after the sun set and the rain stopped, Nick finally decided that I could fall asleep without danger. I stirred in the middle of the night, feeling pleasantly warm. My fingers were curled around his collar. His skin smelled like sleep and spice. I brushed my lips along his throat. He mumbled, still asleep, and swiped his fingers across his chin. I snickered. I kissed the little divot in his chin, edging toward his mouth. I pressed my lips against his, soft and deliberate, so I wouldn’t forget what it felt like. He moaned. I did it again, then raked my teeth against his plump bottom lip. His hands slipped under my chin, keeping my face against his. His thumbs grazed my cheekbones to my hairline.
I fell asleep again, content.
I woke up hours later, Nick’s face hovering in front of mine. His eyes fluttered open, and I could see the morning sun reflected in them. He grinned down at me. His eyes went wide. He scrambled back, whacking his head against the window.
I looked down to where my arms should have been and saw paws covered in black fur.
I was a wolf.
Shit and double shit.
“MAGGIE?” HE ASKED, REACHING out to touch me and then pulling his hand back, remembering the bite mark on his butt cheek.
Werewolves rarely phase during sleep, but sometimes it happens after a serious injury. We heal faster in our wolf state, and sometimes our bodies want to give us a little push toward running at full speed. I must have hit my head a little harder than I’d thought, I mused as I forced myself back into my human shape. I quirked my face into an awkward sort of cringe. “Hi.”
“It’s all real?” he choked out. “Werewolves? Ghosts? Vampires?”
I nodded. “Well, I don’t know about vampires, but werewolves definitely. And ghosts, probably. I thought you knew all this.”
“Yeah, but there’s a difference between knowing and knowing. I feel so stupid,” he said. “You’re a werewolf, like me?”
“Well, Mo’s not, but I am. And Cooper and Samson and my mom and most of my family. Do you see now why I don’t want you investigating the wolf stories?”
“You bit me on the ass?”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I was a little upset.”
“Upset?” he repeated. “Upset!”
“Stop repeating that.”
“I’m—I’m sorry! I have so many questions for you,” he said, patting his pockets for his notebook. “How often do you change? Obviously, your cycle isn’t tied to the moon. Does it hurt? Is the transition painful? I mean, there was a sort of glow, and then you were just there in your human form. I always thought I would see your bones stretch around and change shape, but it’s just like a trick of light, isn’t it? What about your diet? Your sleep patterns? Can everyone in your family change? Is it passed on the mother’s side or the father’s side? Or both?”
I stared at him, my eyebrows raised. “I see you’re over the scarred-ass-cheek thing.”
“Temporarily. “ He chuckled at his own goofiness. “I just can’t believe you’re real.” He sort of dove for me, clasped my face between his hands, and closed his lips over mine. I moaned into his mouth, threading my fingers through his hair.
I pulled back, surprised.
“Is that not OK? I mean, this isn’t because of the wolf thing. Obviously, it’s an added bonus. But I’ve wanted to do that since the minute I met you, and now I can’t seem to stop.”
I basically tackled him and pressed myself against his body. He rolled me onto my back. My clothes were torn from the transition, and I felt my breasts pressing against the rough fabric of his jacket. My nipples puckered, tingling from this strange new sensation. This was so much farther than I’d been before. Sure, I’d been naked around men; it sort of came with the territory. But I’d never been touched like this, never touched someone to seek out this kind of pleasure.
He traced the lines of my thighs with his fingertips to bring my legs over his hips. He ground into me, his denim-covered—oh, my God!—pressing into my hot, uncovered . . . lady business.
I really had to start using grown-up words.
Every cord of muscle in my body felt as taut as a bow string. I was full, plump, ripe, warm, wet. My body sang with want and needs soon to be fulfilled.
I hooked an ankle around his calf, arching into him. He moaned, gripping my hips and leading me into a slow, steady rhythm against him. He gently ripped the remains of my shirt and peeled it away, tossing it aside. I pulled his T-shirt over his head. A heavy silver medallion, threaded on a rawhide strip, bounced against my collarbone as he pushed my hair back from my face. It felt as if every part of him was reaching out for me, taking me in. I ran my thumb along his lower lip. He playfully bit down on the tip of my thumb as I tried to unbuckle his belt with the other hand. It was a trickier maneuver than you’d think.
I whispered kisses across the hollow of his throat. He splayed his hand across my stomach, rubbing slow, tentative circles down until he reached the nest of curls covering my waitingDamn it.
Outside, I heard paws thumping against the damp ground, jarring me out of whatever spell we’d woven in that warm little space. My brothers had tracked me down.
My eyes widened as I looked down at my own naked skin, Nick’s half-undone pants. I’d almost—we’d almost—I shrank back from him. He frowned as I eased out from under him.
“Stay here,” I told him. He leaned forward to kiss me, but I ducked, reaching into the bag to pull the extra, extra sweatpants out. I climbed out over the tailgate.
The rain had stopped, leaving the woods with that cold, smoky-clean smell. The horse-sized russet-colored male was Samson. Cooper was the large black specimen. I tossed the sweatpants at them. “Hey, guys. Took you long enough to find me.”
They phased simultaneously. Cooper looked furious. Samson looked as if his head was about to explode.
Awesome.
“What were you thinking?” Cooper demanded. “Mom’s worried sick. She called last night freaking out because you hadn’t shown up. Samson and I have searched every run path between here and the valley. Why didn’t we think of looking in ditches for some improvised truck treehouse? And I just realized you couldn’t call because you had a wreck. Sorry, it’s taking me a little bit to work through the mind-numbing terror.” Cooper threw his arms around me. “Are you OK?”
Samson joined the group hug by nearly knocking us both over.
