Shift Happens

by Carrie Pulkinen

  Trace ground his teeth as Jackson jumped onto the back of the couch and rubbed his head against Sophie’s leg. She was right. He did know her, and the Sophie he was falling head over tail for would never do something like this. Even if she would, she didn’t know how.

  Scooping Jax into her arms, she nuzzled him, holding him against her chest as she stroked his fur. If the bastard could have smirked, he would have. Instead, he looked at Trace, let out a garbled meow that sounded way too much like a laugh, and rubbed his face between her breasts. Asshole.

  “You do realize his natural form is a man. He’s about six feet tall, dark hair, muscles. And he’s practically motorboating you.”

  Sophie gasped and dropped him on the couch. “Gross. I’ve been peeing with the door open.”

  Trace laughed as Jackson’s voice sounded in his mind, “Not Sophie.”

  “Thanks, buddy. I figured that out, though you could have saved me the groveling I’m about to do by telling me from the get-go.”

  “Is he talking to you?” Sophie asked.

  “Same way I talked to you last night. I guess he didn’t realize you could hear us, or he might have tried.” He looked at Jackson, who shook his head. “Sophie, I’m sorry. My brain jumped to a conclusion that my heart tried to fight tooth and claw. I know you wouldn’t do something like this, and I don’t know why I accused you. Can you ever forgive me?”

  She pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes as she drummed her fingers against her biceps. “Damn, you’re good at apologies. Fine, I forgive you.”

  He opened his arms, and she stepped right into his embrace like she belonged there. Hell, they belonged together.

  “Crimson doesn’t seem like a wicked witch.” Her breath tickled his neck as she spoke. “I really thought we were becoming friends.”

  “Accident. Not wicked,” Jackson thought-spoke into Trace’s mind.

  “She might not be bad. We need to confront her and find out exactly what’s going on.”

  “She should be home within the hour. We can meet her upstairs.” She glanced at Jax. “He must have recognized you when you came in last night. I wonder why he didn’t say anything then?”

  “Didn’t want. Mess up. Game.”

  Trace chuckled. “This woman isn’t a game. She’s the real deal.” He kissed Sophie’s cheek. “He didn’t want to interrupt us.”

  “How thoughtful of him. I’ll get dressed, and we can go up and wait for Crimson.” Sophie pulled from his embrace, and Jax darted into the bedroom.

  He pawed at the bathroom door, pulling it open before jumping onto the counter and letting out a low meow.

  Trace followed as Sophie stopped at her dresser for some clothes. “I’m not good with cat-speak, man. Can you send me your thoughts?”

  Rising onto his back paws, Jackson swiped at the medicine cabinet, trying to pull it open.

  “You need something from in there?” He tugged on the corner of the mirror, and it swung open. Jackson grabbed a wad of toilet paper in his mouth and set it on the counter, nosing it toward Trace.

  “Are you hiding something in here?” he called through the doorway to Sophie. “Something wrapped up in toilet paper has Jax’s attention.”

  He unrolled the paper as Sophie shouted, “No!” She darted through the door, but it was too late. He’d already seen the contents.

  “This is fur.” His mind scrambled to understand what he was looking at. “Where did you…? Did this come from…? What the hell, Sophie?”

  Chewing her bottom lip, she glanced from Jackson to Trace. “Yes, it’s fur. It came from me.” She lowered her gaze, and the tips of her ears reddened.

  “You? But you said you didn’t—”

  “I lied, okay? It only happened once, so after a while, I didn’t think anything of it. I forgot it was even in there. I don’t know why I kept it.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched, and hope bloomed in his chest. “So, you are showing signs of the mutation. There’s a chance you might become a werewolf at the next full moon.”

  She shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, I guess so. Why are you smiling?”

  “I would love for you to become a werewolf. That’s not why I bit you, of course, but Sophie, I’m falling for you hard. Werewolves are allowed to mate with any species, but there are so many benefits to mating with another were. Especially another red wolf.”

  Her mouth opened, the words seeming to get stuck in her throat. Shit. He spent one night with the woman, and he was already talking about becoming mates. He was seriously off his game. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned the mating bit. It’s way too soon for that.”

  “No. It’s…” She shook her head, a smile lighting on her lips. “I’m glad to know you feel that way. I’m falling for you too.”

  His breath came out in a gush of relief, and he stepped toward her, opening his arms.

  She held up her hands and stepped back. “But you have to understand that I am not going to become a werewolf. The fur thing has only happened once, and I’m not showing any other signs. I’m a witch, Trace, and if Crimson can’t unlock my magic, I’ll find someone else who can. It’s my destiny.”

  He dropped his arms to his sides. Maybe her heightened sense of smell and her above-average hearing had nothing to do with his magic running through her veins. If she really thought this one instance of fur was the only sign she’d shown, maybe she wasn’t going to become a werewolf after all.

  “I understand.” She didn’t want to be like him.

  “Do you still want me, even if I never become a wolf?” For the first time, uncertainty flashed in her eyes.

  “Of course.” The question was, would she still want him when she became a full witch?

  Sophie clutched her grandmother’s grimoire to her chest and led the way up the stairs to Crimson’s apartment. Her instinct had been to carry Jax, but Trace’s reminder that there was a full-grown man inside that little kitty body meant the so-called familiar could walk it.

  What was it with shifters pretending to be house pets around her? Between giving Trace a bath and letting Jax curl up on her chest, she was about ready to be done with animals altogether. Or at least until she could spot magic with her own nose and eyes.

  “Now, before you go accusing her of nefarious acts, let her explain, okay?” She unlocked the door, and Jax darted between her legs into the apartment.

  Trace huffed. “She turned my best friend into a cat; she lied under oath to her coven. She’s got a lot of explaining to do.”

  They stepped into the loft area and found Jax sitting beneath the giant portrait of a man. “That’s Jackson.” Trace stepped toward the painting, rubbing his beard as he admired Crimson’s work. “Did she paint this?”

  Sophie started to answer, but he was looking at the cat. Instead, she sank onto the couch and opened the grimoire to her grandmother’s prophecy.

  “Why didn’t you come to the pack for help? Or to me?” Trace followed Jax into the seating area and sat on the sofa next to Sophie.

  “What did he say?” she asked.

  “Whatever spell he’s under is making it hard for him to communicate. All I got was ‘embarrassed.’”

  “Hmm. I can see why he’d be embarrassed with the way you talk about cats. I wouldn’t want you to know if it happened to me.”

  “Like you didn’t want me to know about the fur incident?”

  “I told you that happened shortly after you bit me. I didn’t trust you yet.”

  “But you trust me now?”

  She placed a hand on his thigh and squeezed. Damn, this man was muscular. “I do.”

  “Will you tell me if anything else like that happens? I want to be prepared. If we can’t get this mess sorted out, I’ll either need to protect you or run away with you somewhere safe.”

  “I’m not running away.” She moved the book in her lap to rest against his leg. “Look, I want to show you something. This is a prophecy my grandmother wrote about me shortly after my dad was born.”r />
  She ran her finger over the four lines of text as Trace read the words. “Jane helped me figure it out, and it makes so much sense. The land where the Spanish reigned is obviously New Orleans. Man turning beast is you, and what’s done will be undone means I’m not going to turn into a werewolf.”

  He made a noncommittal sound in his throat and tapped the page. “I don’t like that last line, ‘All must be lost to find everything.’ It doesn’t sound good.”

  “I think it’s already happened. I was about ready to pack it up and go back to Texas before I found this. It gave me hope, and I’m still here, finding magic.” She took his hand. “And a man to make my dreams come true.”

  “Sophie, I—” He cocked his head. “Footsteps on the stairs. She’s home.” He shot to his feet and strode toward the door.

  “What are you going to do? Ambush her?” She closed the book and set it on the coffee table.

  “If she sees me sitting on the couch when she opens the door, she’s likely to tuck tail and run. There’s a reason she doesn’t want anyone to know what she did to Jackson.” He leaned his back against the wall, and as the door swung open, it concealed him from Crimson’s view.

  Crimson stopped in the entry and set her suitcase on the floor. “Hey, Sophie. You didn’t have to bring Jax home. I would’ve come down and gotten him.”

  Sophie cringed. “We need to talk.”

  “We all need to talk.” Trace kicked the door shut and stood in front of it, crossing his arms and flexing his muscles in an oh so masculine way. If he wasn’t trying to be threatening to her friend, Sophie’s mouth might have watered at his sex appeal.

  Okay, her mouth watered anyway.

  “Umm…” Crimson froze, her gaze darting from Sophie to Jax to Trace and back to Sophie. “See, this is why I told you not to let him around any other supes. With the pack involved, it’s going to screw up everything.”

  “The pack isn’t involved yet.” Sophie scooted to the edge of the couch and patted a cushion. “I convinced Trace to listen to your explanation before he reports you.”

  “How very kind of you.” Crimson gave Trace a once-over before strutting to the sofa and perching on the edge like she was ready to bolt.

  Sophie couldn’t blame her. Trace exuded enough testosterone to make Chuck Norris tremble.

  “Oh, good. You brought your grimoire.” Crimson ran a hand over the cover of the book. “We can fix this together. If my mom hadn’t fallen, we’d have already fixed it. I’m a master at channeling magic.”

  “How is your mom?” Sophie mentally smacked herself upside the head. Even in a crisis, she could show some manners.

  “She’s good. Has my dad waiting on her hand and foot. Now that the worst of the pain has subsided, I think they’re both enjoying it a little.”

  Trace cleared his throat as he dropped into a chair across from them. “Can we focus, ladies? What did you do to Jackson?”

  “I turned him into a familiar, obviously.” Crimson rolled her eyes and smirked at Sophie.

  Biting her bottom lip, Sophie shook her head. She and Trace could talk in circles before getting to the point of a conversation, but she could tell his patience had worn as thin as a sheet of single-ply toilet paper.

  “It was an accident.” Crimson cast her gaze to Jackson, who sat on the arm of an accent chair, flicking his tail. “If Jax could talk, he’d tell you himself.”

  “He did.” Sophie patted her hand. “He told Trace a little with their thought-talking magic, but he’s having a hard time communicating. We need you to fill in the blanks.”

  Crimson nodded and glanced at Trace. “Do you swear you haven’t reported it? My magic is at stake.”

  “I know,” he said. “You lied to your high priestess under oath. They’ll bind your magic permanently for that offense.”

  “They’ll bind my powers regardless if I can’t fix this. I’m on my last strike.” Crimson’s shoulders slumped, her mask of confidence slipping off, raw vulnerability replacing it. “I was hoping to talk to Sophie about this alone. It’s rather embarrassing for us both, isn’t it, Jax?”

  A deep mewl sounded from Jax’s throat, and he hopped onto the sofa next to Crimson, placing a paw on her leg in comfort.

  “I’m sorry, Jax.” She rested her hand on his back. “It was a role-playing thing we were doing. I screwed up a sex game.”

  Trace’s eyebrows shot up, and Sophie bit the inside of her cheek.

  Crimson let out a dry laugh. “It was a fantasy, you know? The wicked witch turns her familiar human and has her way with him.” She paused, cutting her gaze between the two of them. “Oh, like neither of you has ever done anything kinky in the bedroom. Don’t judge.”

  Sophie held up her hands. “I’m not judging.”

  “Anyway, I had to turn him into a familiar first, before I turned him into human form again. Making him a cat was easy. Undoing the spell turned out to be a problem.”

  Sophie scrunched her brow. “Why didn’t you let him shift into wolf form and just pretend you turned him back?”

  “No witch has a wolf as a familiar. Cats, ferrets, Guinea pigs, those are all possible. The closest to a wolf would be a fox, and those are extremely rare.” She shrugged. “We were trying to be realistic.”

  Trace rubbed his beard. “And you agreed to this, Jax?” He nodded, an incredulous look widening his eyes. “He says he did, but why didn’t you come to the pack for help? We could have kept it quiet.”

  “Look at him,” Crimson said. “He’s a cat. If his packmates saw him in this state, they’d never let him live it down. I’m sure he wasn’t thrilled for you to find out either.”

  Trace crossed his arms. “We all make mistakes. Your secret’s safe with me.”

  “I’ve tried turning him back many, many times, but it’s not working. I must’ve done something wrong in the original spell to turn him into a cat, and now I can’t undo it on my own. I need the help of a fauna witch.” She looked at Sophie.

  “Surely there are other fauna witches in the coven, right?”

  “There’s one, but I can’t go to the coven for help. This really is my last strike. I’ve screwed up too many spells, and the high priestess told me, point blank, if I screwed up again, my magic would be bound for life. She’s going to turn me human.”

  “Oh, no. We can’t have that.” Sophie had only known about the existence of magic for less than a year, and she couldn’t imagine having it all taken away from her now. Crimson had been a witch her whole life. She couldn’t let her friend lose her powers. “How can I help?”

  “If I can channel your magic, I’m sure I can do it. Right now, something happens with every transformation spell I try, but it doesn’t affect Jax. My magic is strong, but it’s wild. I can’t seem to focus it into him in the right place.”

  Trace straightened his spine. “How many times have you tried to change him back?”

  Crimson counted on her fingers. “Half a dozen at least.”

  His jaw ticked as his hands curled into fists in his lap. “And how long have you been out of town?”

  She shrugged. “A few days.”

  He looked at Sophie, and the realization hit her square between the eyes. “The force-shifts,” they said in unison.

  “Every time you cast a spell to change him back,” Trace said, “you send out a wave of magic that forces any red wolf within a two-mile radius of you to shift against their will. My pack has been banned from entering the French Quarter while I investigate.”

  Crimson’s jaw fell slack. “I… Damn.”

  “Damn indeed.” Trace stood and paced the length of the coffee table. “We were about to start a war.”

  “Oh, no. We need to fix this,” Crimson said.

  “I need to report this to my Alpha.” Trace pulled his phone from his pocket, and Jackson hissed before darting toward him and swiping a paw at his leg.

  “No, Trace. Please.” Sophie padded to him and grasped his forearm before he could dial the numb
er. “She’ll lose her powers.”

  “That’s not my problem.”

  “What if it were you? What if you could never shift again? How would that make you feel? We can help her. I know we can.”

  His dark honey eyes held hers, and she could almost feel his resolution dissolving. The tension in his muscles eased as he lowered his phone to his pocket and laughed dryly. “The power you have over me is witchcraft.”

  “I promise I’m not doing a thing to force you.”

  “She tames your beast.” Crimson stood and strutted toward them. “Your primal fight or flight instinct is tempered when she’s near, forcing you to think rationally before acting.” She winked at Sophie. “In other words, she’s good for you.”

  “Don’t I know it.” His gaze heated as he swept it over Sophie, lighting her nerves on fire without even the slightest touch. He was good for her too.

  He looked at Crimson. “I assume you have a plan then?”

  “May I?” She gestured to the grimoire.

  “Of course.” Sophie followed her to the sofa and sank down next to her as she flipped through the pages, nodding and making mmm and ahh noises as she understood a hundred times more than Sophie did when she tried to decipher it.

  Trace sat next to Sophie, his thigh pressing into hers, and he took her hand. His touch reassured her, sending the message that he intended to go along with whatever plan Crimson cooked up.

  “Your grandmother was a fauna witch as well, though that’s not surprising.” She closed the book and smiled. “She was powerful too, which means you will be as well…once we unlock your magic.”

  Sophie’s quick intake of air made her cough, and as she tried to speak, the coughing worsened until her eyes watered.

  “Are you okay?” Trace rubbed her back as she gasped for air.

  “Fine.” Two more coughs, and she could breathe again. “Just choking on my own spit. I’m talented like that.” She rested a hand on Trace’s thigh and turned to Crimson. “You can unlock my powers? You can make me a real witch?” Excitement bubbled in her chest, making her giddy. This was it. Her dreams were finally going to come true.