I willed the change to come, but this time, I deliberately slowed the whole process down. There was no point in offering a demonstration if he missed the whole transformation by blinking.
My hands went first, followed by my arms, legs. The change then spread through the rest of my body and I moved on to all fours. My view changed. I was almost eye level with Thatch. With my eyes in shifter form, I noticed the green of his even more. They shone bright and brilliant as they raked over me, the sensation caressing my skin. His scent was more pronounced and headier. I would have cleared my throat and shaken my head over my reaction had I been in human form; instead, I controlled my breathing and made sure I didn’t purr at the man. Legit, in wolf-shifter form, I could purr as effectively as a damn tabby.
My large head bobbed at him. He then looked away, and the ripple in the air surrounding his form rolled in my direction. I took in every movement, my gaze wandering the length of him to make sure he was okay. And then he screamed. He bucked. He cried out. And damn if my heart didn’t constrict. Thatch’s anguish rent the air. My hackles rose, my ears perking. I wanted to go to him, lick him, press my heat against him, do… something, anything to take the pain away. But I couldn’t. He had to go through this himself.
Thatch’s distress grew as his limbs finally began their transformation. They followed the same pattern mine had. His suffering twisted my gut. Unsure if I could take it anymore, my senses too sharp and alert, I turned human with a simple thought. The change centred me, reminded me that before long, he’d be able to do the same—a blink and a thought and he’d be golden.
I sat close beside him as a whimper escaped his newly formed mouth. The change was almost complete. One last push and he’d be finished. I wanted to cheer and encourage him, remind him of who he was. While I’d known the guy for all of five minutes, to be the head of some supersecret elite task force meant that he must be pretty badass. But I clamped down my words of encouragement. I couldn’t distract him.
With one final whimper—this one high-pitched and filled with exhaustion—Thatch’s wolf form collapsed. Unconscious, fully formed, and freaking perfect.
Now we just had to wait.
CHAPTER THREE
EVERYTHING APPEARED to be going according to plan. Thatch hadn’t wolfed out. He hadn’t tried to mount me. He was also breathing. I counted each of these things as a successful change.
He’d woken about thirty minutes earlier. Exhaustion had swirled through his eyes as he’d looked up at me, still in wolf form. I’d taken a few minutes away from him to rustle him up something to eat. The energy to change took its toll at the best of times, especially the first few shifts.
He’d all but inhaled the plate of meat I’d set out for him. He was now ready to go. Changing back would be easier. While the discomfort would still be present, he shouldn’t be as wrecked. The pain of the transformation would be nowhere near as intense. For that, I was grateful. Selfishly, I didn’t think I could handle such turmoil from him again so soon.
I transformed quickly before him, just so I could remind him of the process of how to pull the human form back. Shifters could manipulate the order of their change once they were fully in control. To keep it simple, I pulled my wolf back, encouraging my human form out in reverse order. Slow and steady was my aim, ensuring he could see the movements.
Once in my human form, I smiled. “Okay, Thatch. You’ve got this. Easy as that. Same process. Visualise your human self, encourage your body to find its human shape. You know your body. Know how you feel in it. Now embrace it.”
Riveted, I watched the transformation. In wolf form, he’d been dark and surprisingly sleek. Yeah, huge, which I’d expected, but from the muscle definition in his flank, I could tell he’d be unbelievably fast on four paws. It took two minutes for Thatch to be fully human. While I’d appreciated him as a wolf, his beauty and strength, it was nothing compared to the man before me.
Everything about his physical form screamed perfection. Every toned muscle shaped his skin like a marble statue. He was taut and smooth, and holy mother of God, he was uncut and so big that I almost swallowed my tongue looking my fill.
I had to look away. Had to stop ogling his monstrous cock. My eyes widened. Monstrous. It was accurate as hell, but there was nothing ugly about it.
A groan finally dragged my gaze away. Heat spread across my chest and up my neck. Grimacing, I looked his way, hoping he wasn’t going to kick my arse. Relief flashed through me when my gaze landed on him. Bent over, hands on knees, he was breathing raggedly. I was an idiot. While the poor guy was struggling through this life-changing moment, I’d been focussing on the size of him and wondering if I could take it or not.
It was time to pull my head out of the gutter and step up to do my job. At the moment, that included helping Thatch and then working through the memories that would start anytime soon.
I handed him a bathrobe, sure it would take him a while to get over any modesty he still may have from his human life. When he didn’t take it immediately, I draped it over
