Shay sighed. “Enough insults. I’m a wolf, not a damned pet.”
“A werewolf? Like you bite people?”
“Fucking human movies.” Zeb scowled. “No. We don’t.”
Her pretty blue eyes focused on Zeb like cop car spotlights. “You’re a werewolf too?”
“Yes.”
“And you think I’m a werewolf?”
Damn, she was calm. Shay smiled before he saw how her hands had wrapped, white-knuckled around the can. Not calm. Controlled. He said gently, “We know you’re a shifter because our kind of healing doesn’t work on humans. So yes, you should be able to change into an animal—cat, bear, or wolf.”
“Werecat?” She blinked. “Like a Persian or Siamese?”
Zeb choked on his beer.
“More like a mountain lion.” Shay added, “Calum, Alec, and Vicki are werecats.”
Her eyes widened. “Vicki? No. No way. You gave me drugs.” Bree tried to rise, but failed. “That’s why I’m so weak. You gave me drugs and I dreamed—”
Firm knocking silenced Bree. She closed her eyes, trying not to scream or go into real hysterics. Vicki? Some sort of cat? Either Bree was going crazy or they’d drugged her. I want a better set of drugs.
Zeb answered the door. His deep voice rasped, “Cosantir.”
Coatless, in a long-sleeved black shirt and black jeans, Calum stepped in. She scowled as he walked—no, prowled—across the room, like a cat or something.
She shook her head. Last chance to hang on to reality, Bree. Next stop, a locked facility. Then again, even nuthouses needed good chefs.
“Did you come to help explain?” she asked Calum.
“Not exactly.” He assessed her with steel gray eyes. “I came to assign Seamus and Zebulon to act as your mentors.” He glanced at the two men. “She needs to trawsfur without delay.”
“Why the rush?” Shay asked.
“We restock our magic stores when we shift. Her healing depleted the scant magic she possessed. Donal thinks if she doesn’t shift soon, she won’t survive.” He frowned at Bree. “Actually, he was shocked you’re alive at all.”
“Oh.” Rather than terror, she felt relief. Was this why she’d grown weaker each month? But she could think about that later. Right now… What kind of weird stuff was Calum talking about?
Zeb and Shay watched her, as if she were a shook-up soda ready to explode.
“Listen, whatever a mentor does, I want a woman, like Vicki. Who are you to ‘assign’ me anything anyway?” She tried again to rise. Her legs failed. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself.
“Vicki has been a shifter less than a year, not long enough to mentor anyone. The only Daonain you’ve spent time with are Seamus and Zebulon.” Calum’s lips turned up in a faint smile. “I’m the one who will try to push you into your first trawsfur.”
Zeb’s head turned quickly. “She can’t shift on her own?”
“Donal doesn’t think so or she would have by now. Once the door is opened, she should be able to return. Opening it the first time might be difficult.” Calum’s eyes darkened ominously. “Shay, explain what will happen. Now. She’s weakening as we talk.”
“Am not—” Bree protested.
Ignoring her objections, Shay picked her up like a doll and sat with her in his lap. Even as her mind jittered, her body relaxed. He was warm, and she was so very cold.
“Listen.” Shay pulled her closer until she heard his voice rumbling in his chest. “When a shifter hits puberty, the door to the wild—that’s the way to becoming an animal—appears in our mind. Small door off in the back.”
“You’re being weird.” Door in my head. Next he’ll tell me there’s this big bridge in Seattle for sale…
“Close your eyes and imagine yourself turning in circles. Look for it.”
She lifted her head to give him an incredulous look, but he simply waited. Fine. She shut her eyes, imagined spinning like a blender blade.No, Bree, they’re not joking. Take this seriously. She really looked and felt goosebumps creep up her arms. “There’s something. I’m not sure it’s a door—it’s awfully dark.” She opened her eyes in time to see Zeb’s mouth flatten. “What?”
He glanced at Calum. “The Cosantir will help you open it.”
His tight voice scared her. “I don’t think I want—”
“The alternative is death.” Shay shook her slightly to emphasize his words. “Now, once you’re through—and the first time is a hell of a shock—you turn and locate that door in your head. You’ve got to come back through it to be human again. Calum can’t do that for you, right, Cosantir?”
“I cannot. To push you into a shift is risky. If I intervene and draw you back before you’ve made a connection to the door, you might lose the way entirely. A shifter must trawsfur to stay alive.”
“So once you’re on four legs, you find your door. Then we’ll go run in the forest.” Shay squeezed her shoulder. “Breanne, being your animal is a wondrous thing. There’s nothing as beautiful.” His words were convincing, the look in his eyes more so.
Zeb’s gaze met hers to say the same.
Her breathing wasn’t under her control anymore, and her brain felt fuzzy. Worse, Calum was right. She could feel herself sagging, like a doll with the stuffing leaking out.
Calum opened the back door and waited.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Zeb plucked her from Shay’s arms and carried her outside. When he set her on her trembling legs, his iron-hard arm around her waist kept her upright. The cold wet ground chilled her bare feet. “I need shoes. A jacket.”
“No, you don’t. First lesson.” Shay faced her. “Take off your clothes. Animals don’t have fingers, and you’ll rip your clothes trying to get them off.” He demonstrated with a shocking lack of modesty and stood before her completely naked. God, he was gorgeous. The hard planes of his chest muscles rippled when he moved.
Then her eyes seemed to cross. To blur. He disappeared, and a fluffy dog—no, a wolf—took his place.
“Elvis?”
He padded over to sit at her feet.
“That’s amazing.” Stalling for time, she bent to stroke his soft fur. Terrifying.
When she straightened, Zeb said, “Strip, little female.” Without waiting, he one-handedly tugged her sweater over her head.
She gasped and tried to cover her naked breasts. His arm held her steady as he unzipped her jeans. Paused. “Everything, Bree.”
Shay had said that, but… Me? Naked in front of Calum and Zeb.
He waited. Calum did the same, obviously content to let her so-called mentors handle her.
Whining, Shay pawed at her bare feet so carefully she barely felt the scrape of his claws.
“Okay, fine.” Her fingers shook as she pushed her jeans off her hips and let them fall around her ankles. Zeb held her up as she stepped out of them. She tried to pretend it was nothing. But the last time she’d been naked in front of a man, the monster had… A chill ran through her.
“Bree.” Zeb lifted her chin and forced her to meet his black gaze. “Stay here. This is a shifting lesson, nothing else.”
His piercing stare drew her back into the present. “Right.” She endeavored a smile and whispered, “Thanks.”
A crease appeared in his cheek although his lips stayed straight. “Cosantir. Now would be good.”
Silently, Calum appeared at her other side. Zeb didn’t move away, and his closeness was a comfort. Calum curved his hand around her nape, gripping firmly. “Look at me.”
She stared at the buttons of his shirt.
“Now, Breanne.” The order couldn’t be refused. She lifted her gaze and was trapped as his eyes turned from gray to an unfathomable black. She trembled, frozen in place.
“Trawsfur,” he said, his voice cold and deep. In a wide-open stream of electricity, energy poured into her, lifting every hair on her body. The dark door in her mind quaked, and pain seared her veins as it slammed open.
She felt h
erself shoved through that space, tingling all over. Falling. She landed on her hands and knees, yelled in outrage, and heard a yelp. She was—her fingers were gone. She stared down at thin fur-covered legs and paws. Her paws. In the dirt. Oh. My. God.
A glowing warmth rose through her, brushing away the uncomfortable tingling, and filling her with soft energy. The feeling was like Thanksgiving when she’d cooked for friends. Rain poured down outside, but her home was filled with fragrant scents and laughter. Here on the edge of the wilderness forest, she felt that again. Love. Belonging.
As it faded, she shook her head and felt her ears flap. Like a dog.
“A werewolf, then,” Calum said.
Panting with nervousness, she looked up. Zeb towered over her, and she tried to back up. Her way-too-many legs tangled, and she staggered sideways.
“Easy, little female.” Zeb squatted and rubbed his hand along her cheek. As everything inside her hummed with pleasure, she edged closer, sniffing. He smelled really, really good.
“Bree,” he said.
At the base of her spine, something quivered. Moved. A tail. She had a tail. Amazing. If she concentrated, it actually—
“Bree.”
She looked at him, and wow, her tail moved back and forth all on its own.
“Find the fucking door.” Zeb’s dark eyes crackled with intensity.
With an effort, she blocked out everything and looked into her own mind. Well, hey. The door was all big and shiny and even glowed a little.
“You find it?”
She wagged her tail.
“Good girl.” His voice was a shivery, growly sound. “When it’s time, open the door and step through. You clear on that, little female?”
She wagged her tail and looked around again. So much to see.
Zeb was undressing.
Shay, still a dog—no, a wolf—paced forward. His muzzle touched hers, then he stalked around her, sniffing, before standing in front of her again.
God, he smelled wonderful too, like power and mountains with a musky elusive scent. She trembled, and her tongue flicked out to lick his muzzle. Like it was something she should do.
He licked her back, making her tail wag uncontrollably.
She’d missed seeing Zeb without clothes—and wasn’t that an interesting regret?—but he’d already turned into a wolf. With almost black fur, he was taller, yet more streamlined than Shay. If it were possible, Zeb looked even more deadly as a wolf.
He, too, walked around her, sniffing. His shoulder bumped against hers, giving her a feel for how much heavier and more powerful he was, and making something quiver deep inside her.
She whined.
Shay’s head turned toward Calum.
Although the darkness was gone from his eyes, the air around Calum rippled like waves rising from an overheated oven. He smiled at her. “You did well, Breanne. Listen to your mentors and enjoy your first trawsfur.”
Even on four legs, Shay loomed over her. He licked her muzzle, and her attention snapped to him. With a low bark, he bounded away, heading into the forest. Zeb followed to the edge of the trees and looked back.
With a sharp yip she couldn’t contain, Bree leaped after them, trying not to look down. Four legs…I have four legs.
Chapter Fourteen
Ack! Bree yelped as her shoes fell off her hind paws. Her sweater bunched up, tangling her front legs.
She whined, trying not to panic as her own clothes trapped her. Shivering, she held still. The scents of the house—wood smoke, hazelnut coffee, herbal soap from the shower—washed over her. The breeze coming in the windows brought the fragrance of pine and snow. The mountains were calling her. She took a step in that direction and halted as her jeans slid off her haunches.
Door, door, where’s the darned door? Time expanded to eternity before she found it and mentally opened it. She stepped through…and was on her hands and knees in the middle of her cabin. As the magical tingles danced over her skin, she bowed her head. Sweat chilled her forehead. Well, wasn’t that fun?
After a couple of deep breaths, she pushed to her feet and wiggled her jeans up. Werewolf am I? Not a very competent one. How come the movies made it look so easy? With a resigned laugh, she adjusted the bra that had bunched under her arms. Maybe she should go without underwear until she got the hang of this stuff. She’d already popped into wolfy form twice today.
She glanced wistfully at the back door, but Shay and Zeb said she couldn’t run the forest without one of them along. Not yet.
“Babysitters. At my age.” She brushed her hands off and combed her hair back. “Huge babysitters, no less.” After dropping onto the couch, she put her feet on the hand-hewn coffee table.
Shocking revelations or not, she physically felt great. How long had it been since she was healthy? Truly alive? Would she have slowly faded away to death in Seattle? She bit her lip. Apparently. But now, she was going to live, only…she was a werewolf. I don’t munch on people though. Ew. And she hadn’t trawsfurred into something grotesque like in the movies.
Last night in the cabin, Shay had called her over to the bathroom door mirror. Zeb had padded in to stand beside her. She’d looked so delicate next to him. Her fur was glimmery and pale as moonlight on her sides and legs. A darker gray streak ran down her back and marked her ears. Her cheek and neck fur was pure white. Really, she made a prettier wolf than a woman.
A wolf. Jeez. I’m accepting this really well, aren’t I?
Now if she could only figure out what came next. Last night, the men had started to answer her questions, but she’d fallen asleep right there on the couch. One of them must have carried her to the bed and tucked her in. They sure held her a lot. The memory of Zeb’s hard arms and his rumbling voice made her melt inside. And with Shay, so big he almost engulfed her, she felt small and fragile, and so, so safe. Did they see her as a woman or just another chore?
How did she want them to see her?
She shook her head. One thing at a time. Meantime, she had to learn to manage this wolfy shape. How to differentiate all the kazillion scents. Keep the legs moving in an organized manner—which she could mostly do, if she didn’t think about it. Manage the weird maneuver of turning one ear forward and one back. She grinned. That was so cool.
How long would she be in Cold Creek? Should she, maybe, stay? The momentary hope startled her, then terrified her. This isn’t my place. Not at all. I have to go back to Seattle. That’s my home. But how did a shifter survive in a city? She frowned. What would the joggers in Discovery Park say if a wolf joined them…?
* * *
The sun was high overhead when Zeb turned and headed back down the mountain at a trot. Bree had kept up well; her endurance had improved over the last four days.
She was a damned fast little wolf—as long as she didn’t overthink and get her legs tangled up. He tipped an ear to the rear, listening to the rhythm of her paws on the trail. She stayed close. The icy wind off the glaciers whipped through his fur, a welcome coolness after the hard run they’d finished, but wafting her scent to him. She’d had an appealing scent before; now, with the wild tang of a shifter added in, it was almost irresistible.
The wind veered and brought him the scent of a rat in the tangle of dead branches ahead. He let Bree catch up, then lifted his muzzle and sniffed.
She needed to learn to deal with prey, and a rodent was a good place to start.As she caught the scent, he stepped back to let her handle it.
She waited for the tiny betraying rustle, then pounced. She had the rat in her jaws. A crunch and whipping motion broke its neck. Good. She’d completed her first hunt, no matter how short. Her first taste of warm blood.
Instincts took over, and she had the rodent half-eaten before her brain caught up. And then she backed away from the carcass as if a bee had stung her nose. A second later, she was human. On her knees, she stared at the mess and scrubbed her hands over her face. She looked at the streaks of blood on her palms and her nose wrinkled.
Fuck, was she going to panic? Worried, he trawsfurred.
“Oh jeez, I ate a rat.” She looked at him with horrified eyes. “I killed it and ate it. Ewww.”
Something inside him tickled, increased to uncontrollable, and then he burst into laughter. She glared at him, making it worse, until he put his hands on his knees and just roared.
Her lips curved up reluctantly. “I’ve never heard you laugh like that. But it’s not funny.”
“It’s just lunch.” He considered and added, “I’d rather have field mice though. Crunchier—like popcorn.”
She gave him a revolted look and swallowed hard.
Zeb tried to suppress another wave of laughter. By the God, he hadn’t laughed that hard in…ever. He leaned against a tree and watched her. Pretty little female, her hair shining gold in the sunlight and tiny nose wrinkled in disgust. Usually she was pink from embarrassment, but now her skin was an even creamy color. Her breasts were beautifully large with nipples the same color as her lips. His hands twitched with the need to touch. “You still hungry?”
Her gaze averted from the bloody mess, she shook her head. “I may never eat again.”
He nodded and shifted to a wolf, pausing long enough to finish off the rat. Nice appetizer—although from the way the little wolf’s ears flattened, she probably wouldn’t invite him to lunch now.
* * *
Bree followed Zeb across the small creek toward her cabin. Her muscles felt warm and happy from the run. Lifting her nose, she checked the air. Wood smoke from the lodge, the lingering fragrance of oatmeal from breakfast, a rodent-something from the corner bush. Even as her ears pricked forward, she told herself, no more rats. Ever. Ew.
As she shifted to human, the wind whipped around her body, making her far too aware of her lack of clothes. Apparently, shifters didn’t worry about the nakedness stuff. But she did. She put a hand on the doorknob, intent on getting into the jeans and shirt she’d left right inside.
“Wait, Bree.”
She turned.
Still naked, Zeb walked over, close enough that his heat radiated to her through the chilling afternoon air. His skin held a dark fragrance, overwhelmingly masculine.
Winter of the Wolf (Hunt 2) Page 13