“Wow.” The word was as much an exhalation as statement to express my awe. In fact, I had a hard time breathing, so I concentrated on the expanding pile of fuzz. “Keen has nothing on you. Wulfan must keep vacuum companies in business.”
One corner of Chris’s mouth quirked up. “The hair is the visible end product of the change, and when we shift back to human, the finer human hair pushes the animal fibres out.” The lips straightened and he made a point of catching my eye. “One other thing about changing: it’s hard work. Cells are being built to make the wulf and also destroyed to make the human. Your body uses energy at an incredible rate. That’s why you don’t see many overweight wulfan. Too many changes in too short a time can put you in a world of hurt. So, lesson one: fuel your body. If you’re in a weakened state, you might not be able to complete the shift, and wulfleng have died that way.”
He grimaced at me, which was when I noticed his canines were still in place. I took a step back.
The grimace became a grin. “Some features can be controlled with practice.” The teeth made him terrifying, but without any apparent effort, they pulled up into his gums with a gush of blood. Chris licked his lips. “Let’s go get something to eat before we move on.”
* * *
We found Chris’s partner, Josh, in the kitchen, feeding Keen. My greedy dog had a knack for spotting the soft touch in any room, and as she wiggled at his feet, it was obvious she’d done it again.
“I already fed her breakfast,” I protested, but I had to smile at the obvious enjoyment on Josh’s face.
Josh looked younger than Chris, but considering the recent revelations about age, I wasn’t sure what that meant. Not tall, but well proportioned, he had the long muscles of a runner, like me. Only he had more upper-body development, and he moved with the languid grace of a cat. But he had an intensity to him that made you think he didn’t miss much. His eyes—an unusual pale hazel, which was striking against his dark skin—reflected a deep-rooted, thoughtful intelligence. He had tightly kinked black hair hanging almost to his waist, currently tied back in a ponytail. Would I be the only blond wulf around? If I make it to becoming a wulf.
Keen trotted over to us, but one whiff of Chris and she backed away again, growling. I had to entice her to him for a closer sniff.
“She smells the wulf on me, from the change,” Chris explained. “She’ll have to make the connection between me and my hairier self and learn to trust that smell.” Keen returned to her second breakfast with enthusiasm but continued to send wary glances at Chris whenever he moved.
Josh turned his attention from my dog to Chris and me. “How’d it go?”
“Great. Not even a flinch. Kid’s got a strong stomach.”
It’d been a long time since anyone had called me kid, and I had to smile. I guess, when you were a hundred years old, thirty-three seemed young.
Josh smiled at me, but I caught the worry in his eyes. When they slid to his partner and then away, I wondered if the sentiment was for me or for Chris. Why would he worry for Chris? Is there something I don’t know? I shook my head, making Josh glance my way. There was a lot I didn’t know. I remembered Chris’s comment about wulfan mating for life and thought of all the scars on his body. It couldn’t be easy loving someone who risked everything for the greater good.
Chris directed me to the table, and I sat while they bustled around the spacious kitchen. I contemplated the exotic orchid that graced the center of the table and noticed more in an elaborate plant stand in the corner. Every nook and cranny of the house had plants, and they all grew with an enthusiasm only the well tended can manage. I figured more than Josh’s thumb was green. Maybe his toes, too. Chris and Josh conjured up French toast with so much whipped cream and maple syrup I thought I’d be bouncing on a sugar high for hours. They also cooked bacon and eggs, and I groaned as they forced me to clean up another heaped plate.
Afterward, I waddled after Chris into a library with a huge area equipped with two computers and a copier/printer that looked like a robot. I collapsed into a chair in front of the long central table, wondering what was next. Keen, equally stuffed, lay on my feet.
“Okay, while we digest the goodies, we’ll work on your visualization wall.”
My what?
“Control is mind over matter,” Chris explained. I blinked and stifled a yawn. So much for the sugar high.
“Hey, wake up. This is important. Your body wants to sleep off that meal, but your mind will deny it.”
Well, your mind will deny it, I thought, as the yawn won the battle. Chris walked to a wall where a bulletin board leaned against a bookcase. “I want you to cover this with images that evoke an emotional response in you. Put the positive ones on one half and the negative ones on the other.” He waved at the printer. “You can print them off there.” He turned and headed for the door. “The Wi-Fi password is werewolf.” He fixed me with a stern stare. “Don’t make a huge mess—this is Josh’s office. He does his writing here.”
“He writes?”
“Yep. Sci-fi and some fantasy. He’s good,
