A strangled chuckle barked out of him. “That went so well last time. No, I can deal with Iasan, just not today, Em.” Unclenching his fists at his side, he didn’t remark on Emory’s father. Roque Fae, everywhere he went he oozed of authority and structure. Of might and discipline. He was severe, a ruler in every right. He was a desolate and one of the most influential people in Kiero. He thought highly of his instructors and of his government, and Brokk clearly remembered last time Emory had gone to him about Iasan.
“He is the best in his field, the best throughout the country. Brokk should be willing to challenge himself instead of limiting himself due to his heart.” Emory had relayed his message mockingly, but the words had cut through Brokk. This was their leader, the person everyone praised. The man everyone looked up to. The man he never went to with his concerns again after that. Doubt clawed at his mind. They climbed in comfortable silence, the melody of the forest creatures floating out to them. Heard, but unseen. It was soothing and melancholic, the soft music dripping with life and isolation. He knew those melodies fell on deaf ears, but he was always listening, his personal orchestra overlapping in beautiful harmonies, and it ignited him.
They reminded him of the woods, the only place he could be free. The treelines blurring as he ran, the moon’s light mapping his way. Feeling the earth under his paws, Brokk lost himself in his animal instinct. Those heartbreaking laments of the fellow creatures that could be found in the darkness tugged at him. Calling him to come back, to come home. To him, being a shapeshifter was a gift. That part of himself, his ability, was part of his very core. The yearning for wildness, for freedom, for power. People had been afraid at first, thinking that he couldn’t control himself. That he would hurt someone. The wolf and man were one, each skin he wore was him. That part of himself he was always in control of. It was his other ability. The one he kept tucked close to his heart, locked in the darkest corners of his soul. That scared him. That he didn’t understand. It was waiting, growing and expanding, for that trigger moment where it would explode from him, emblazed and uncontrolled. The ability he had told no one about.
Swallowing hard, he brought himself back, back to Emory’s crystal laugh, to her smile, the gentle brushes of their fingers. He was drowning in the stormy seas of his fears, and she was his anchor. Had always been his anchor. Would always be.
Raising a delicate dark brow at him, she said, “It would seem we have a visitor.”
Snapping his attention forward, he stalled, murmuring to his friend, “Do you want me to take care of this?”
She rolled her eyes. “Brokk, I have known him since I was a little kid. He doesn’t scare me. You shouldn’t be scared either.”
Stopping, he shoved his hands in his pockets, staring at Adair Stratton stalking toward them. He was gangly, tall and thin. His dark gaze held only one person, boring into Emory as though it could physically pierce her. His body bowed toward her. It commanded one thing—longing. The Faes and the Strattons were best friends and that extended toward their children.
Reaching them, Adair took him in with a sneer as he drawled, “Emory, we are to go see our parents. Immediately.” His voice was smooth and deep like still water.
A sly smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. “To discuss important matters, I’m sure?”
Adair nodded, tilting his head as his eyes ravished her. The hair on the back of Brokk’s neck stood on end, and he wanted to snarl, to protect his friend from the spell. Not a single bone in Brokk’s body trusted him. Not. One.
Adair offered his arm to Emory, which she took with an apologetic look toward Brokk. “See you later. Duty calls.”
Feebly waving goodbye, he glared into Adair’s back as they walked away, light and dark, oil and water mixing. Brokk caught snippets of Adair’s voice back toward him. “Emory, honestly, what do you see in him?”
This time a snarl did break through his lips, and Brokk shut his eyes, taking in deep breaths. Adair always got under his skin, preaching to Emory that she was above her friendship with Memphis and him. Emory, of course, had always done what she wanted, ignoring his poisonous words. Ones he thought were lost to them. Yet she always let Adair in, always answered his beck and call. Brokk couldn’t help but see past her façade, that a part of her was spellbound by Adair and would bend to his will wholly. He tolerated that friendship for her, but he hated it. Soon they were nothing but distant figures on the horizion, and Brokk continued his way up the path alone.
His next class was almost as painful as the first.
“On my command... Now!” Professors Lien’s voice sliced through the tense excitement of the room. The auditorium was cavernous and filled with natural light, making every detail clear to the students. The obstacle course was grueling and complicated, laid out before him, the challenges plain to see. Various tunnels, scaling walls, and other teachers strategically placed for hand-to-hand combat before you could reach your partner. Looking to Memphis stationed across from him at the opposite end of the room, he sighed.
With a casual shrug, he waggled his eyebrows at his friend and then chaos exploded. Every time he shapeshifted, it was like falling into piercing icy water. His muscles tensed as he ran forward, and then in an explosion of cracking bones, he bore his second skin, his golden fur rippling, defined muscles propelling him forward like a comet streaking across the night sky. Full of flaring life, burning and
