by C. Larsen
"Emerson!" Gray calls, frantic as he catches sight of the destruction inside. "Where are you? EMERSON!"
I whine again, terrified to move toward him after what I did to the room, but wanting his comfort, needing his steady presence to help me through whatever is happening to me.
His head whips toward me, his sensitive ears picking up my small sound of distress. His eyes glow gold in the dark room, locking in on my hiding spot. Lips part and he bares his teeth, a growl rumbling deep in his chest. Then he takes a step closer, sniffing the air. With furrowed brows, he steps closer.
"Emerson?" He takes another slow step and I scramble backwards, hitting the wall with a thud.
*No! Don't! I might hurt you!* I duck my head down, tremors wracking my body. A low keening fills the room.
He needs to leave, it isn't safe. He isn't safe near me. No one is.
"It's okay Em, calm down. Everything will be alright." His low, hypnotic crooning calms my shivering, casting a lull over my body. "Come on now, volchonok, everything's fine. Come on out."
My body begins obeying his words before my mind catches up. I freeze mid-step, panic overtaking me once more.
*I can't, Gray! I don’t want to hurt you!* I try to scramble backward once again, but he covers the distance between us in half a second and reaches out, his large hand settling on my head.
At his touch my body stills, the comforting weight of his hand in my fur soothing me. I can't bring myself to pull away, desperate as I am for comfort, but I can't completely leave my haven behind the sofa chair either. What if I lose control again?
"You won't hurt me, luna, don't worry. You're gonna be just fine. Come on." He runs his hand down the ruff of my neck, tangling his fingers in my thick pelt. "'Atta girl," he croons as I take a tentative step forward. "Come on out now, no need to hide. Let me get a look at you."
His hypnotic words and gentle caresses calm my fear enough for me to scoot out from my safe little nook, allowing him to get his first real look at me.
The novelty of walking on four legs instead of two is bizarre enough to almost force me to flee back into the nook, but Gray's hand on my flank stops me.
"Good girl, that's it." He whistles low, his eyes taking in my new form, starting at my head and traveling slowly down my body, all the way down to my fluffy tail and back.
"You are gorgeous, volchonok. All white, huh? Beautiful." His hand strokes my fur as he gently coaxes me further into the room.
*Gray, I'm scared,* I admit. His touch calms me enough to allow my brain to begin functioning again rather than simply reacting in blind terror. *What's happening?*
"It looks like there's more to you than we thought," he says, studying my new wolf body. "I wonder where you get the werewolf blood from? Can't be Elizabeth. Hmmm, maybe..." Gray trails off, leaving the sentence dangling, but I'm more concerned about how to control this than figuring out where it comes from.
*You shouldn't be here,* I say. *I could hurt you.*
"It's alright, Em. You won't hurt me."
*Look what I did to the room! I can't control this. I'm dangerous!*
"You aren't dangerous, at least not to me. And you can control this, you just need a dominant wolf to show you how. It's a good thing I just happened to be driving around the neighborhood.”
*Spying again?* I try to joke despite the fear coursing through me.
“Something like that,” he says with a wink. He kicks off his shoes and yanks his shirt up over his head.
*What are you doing?* Even through my shock and terror, I'm not able to completely ignore his perfectly sculpted pecs and abs.
"I can't show you anything in this form," he says, now unbuckling his belt. I spin around, turning my back to him as he yanks off his jeans.
"Don't tell me you’re squeamish about nudity," he teases. "You seemed to enjoy ogling my chest well enough. What's wrong, don't want to watch the whole show?"
Despite everything that has happened, I almost smile. *Dream on, Gray.*
"Alright, your loss." I hear him moving behind me and I peek over my shoulder.
He's down on all fours now, head bent over, his short black hair hanging down and obscuring his eyes. I turn my head a little more to get a better view, now that I'm sure he can't see me watching.
His back muscles ripple and he lets out a slow breath, as if preparing himself. Then his shoulders jerk and I turn around even more, both horrified and entranced.
I've never seen a werewolf shift before, and I wasn't exactly in the most cognizant frame of mind during my own transformation.
His back arches. Sickening pops fill the room. He groans deep in his chest, but releases another slow breath. His shoulder joints seem to shift, realigning. The next time his back arches, his legs jerk, snapping and popping, then shortening, the joints shifting into different positions. Another snap, another low moan.
I stand frozen to the spot, watching as his body slowly, painfully, transforms from human to canine. Black fur sprouts all over his body, as dark as the hair on his head. He keeps his face averted, occasionally gasping or grunting at a particularly sharp crack.
After several minutes of painful torture, Gray raises his head, bright gold eyes staring out at me from a wolf's head. As I watch, his pupils darken, the golden glow fading to familiar silver.
Gray's wolf form is huge; as tall as a Great Dane, but more heavily muscled. If it wasn't for the pointed ears and bushy tail, he would almost look more like a bear than a wolf, especially with his pitch black fur rather than the gray and white more commonly seen in wolves. What was it he said about my fur? All white? I didn't even know wolves could be pure white.
*Are we going or what?* Gray asks, his voice in my mind. It feels similar to the telepathy I use, but not quite the same. It's effortless. I don't have to concentrate to hear him. His voice is just there, inside my head.
Wolf bond whispers a voice deep inside. It's not Gray's voice this time that I hear. It seems to be a part of myself, but different.
*Go where?* I ask. Again, the communication is effortless. I just think it and Gray hears it.
*For a run!* He lowers the front half of his body in a play stance, forelegs outstretched, rear end sticking up in the air, tail wagging. He gives an excited yip and darts forward to nip at my neck before prancing away, inviting me to chase him.
All my fear and anxiety seems to melt away in the face of Gray's playfulness.
Stop thinking. Time to run! the voice inside me says, and something inside me perks up, some instinct newly discovered.
I shake off my worries and fears as that nameless wildness from earlier builds inside me again, but this time in excitement rather than anger. I'll have plenty of time to worry later. For now, I push it aside and accept Gray's invitation to play.
Adopting the same stance he used, I shift my weight onto my front legs and wag my tail, letting out a yip of my own.
Gray's jaws part, tongue lolling out in a wolfy grin before he turns tail and sprints out the busted front door.
With a powerful burst of my hind legs, I'm after him, bounding off into the night. He heads straight for the forest bordering my yard and I follow without question. It seems natural to run through the underbrush on all fours, dodging trees, leaping over overgrown roots and small bushes, hot on Gray's trail.
Hearing me close behind, he puts on a burst of speed and disappears into the trees. Even though I can't see him any longer, I can smell him. A woodsy, earthy musk that has me inhaling more often than necessary, just to draw his scent deeper into my lungs.
I follow his trail without having to think about it, his scent leading me unerringly through the tangle of roots and underbrush.
As I enter a small clearing, a low growl is all the warning I have before something large crashes into my left flank, knocking me to the ground.
Twisting immediately, I snap my teeth at the attacker, deep snarls ripping up my throat. In a split second, I realize who it is, and my snarls change to playful yip
s. I manage to get a hold of Gray behind his neck, my teeth closing over his ruff just enough to grab him, but not hard enough to hurt.
He gets away easily, but comes right back, using his large head to knock me off balance, tackling me to the ground once more.
We continue to play until I'm exhausted and out of breath. He chuffs and nuzzles my neck, letting me know without words that I did well in our mock battle. I know he could have easily overpowered me, but he kept backing away, giving me a chance to get in a nip or two.
I lower my body to the ground, yawning wide, and stretch out in the small meadow. Gray rubs his face against my neck before settling down to my left, his head resting on my back near my shoulder blades. I yawn again, feeling at peace for the first time in weeks. Gray nuzzles me again, pressing his body even closer against mine. I close my eyes, muscles relaxing. I fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat and the wind in the trees.
A cool breeze runs down my back and I wake with a start. Lifting my head from the dirt, I stare around blearily. The stars shine overhead, dried leaves rustling in the branches. How did I get outside?
Shivering from the cool night air, I pull my knees up into my chest and try to sit up, but a heavy arm lying across my back stops me. I glance over my shoulder and gasp, clamping my hands to my bare chest.
Gray's eyes crinkle at the corners when he sees my outraged expression. He rolls onto his back and stretches. His belly pulls taut, pecs flexing in the weak starlight. With his arms raised over his head, I can see every inch of him. I spin around, turning my back on him as heat engulfs my cheeks.
A low chuckle sounds behind me, and the heat intensifies.
"So shy." He tsks. "You're gonna have to get over that pretty soon—there's no privacy when you're shifting with an entire pack."
"Since I'm not in a pack, I don't have to worry about that," I snap. "Where are my clothes? How did I get out here? What am I doing with you?"
"You don't remember?"
For one horrible moment, I fear that I got wasted and blacked out. I remember grabbing the Gray Goose off the shelf... but then the rest of the night crashes over me, and I almost wish it had been a drunken mistake.
I turned into a wolf? How? Why? I pull my knees tight to my chest.
My anxiety must register to Gray, because his warm hand lands on my shoulder and begins massaging the tight knots.
"Calm down, Em. It'll be fine. The first shift is always a shock, even when you're expecting it. Changing on your own the way you did, without any warning? It must have been terrifying. But it'll be better the next time."
"Next time?" I gape at him over my shoulder. "You mean that's gonna happen again?"
"Of course; you're a werewolf."
"No. No, no, no. I'm not a werewolf. I can't be. That was just a mistake. I was possessed or something. I can't turn into that THING again. I just can't." I bury my face in my knees, squeezing my eyes shut. This is a nightmare. It has to be.
"That thing? You mean a werewolf?" For the first time, there's a hint of actual hurt in his voice. "You make it sound like we're monsters."
"No, not you," I hurry to say. "I don't care that you're a werewolf. But I can't be. I just can't. You don't understand. I almost killed someone, and that was before the fangs and razor-sharp claws. I'll lose control. I'll hurt people. You saw what I did to my house..."
I'm babbling, words tripping over one another, struggling to burst from my chest and strangle me. This can't be happening. It just can't.
Deep, gasping breaths begin thundering from my lungs. Black spots appear in front of me and the world narrows to a tiny pinprick.
The next thing I know, Gray has me wrapped in his strong arms, one hand stroking my hair, petting me like he did when I was in wolf form. "Calm down, lyubimaya, shhh. It's alright, sweetheart. It's gonna be fine."
Through my panic, I am vaguely aware of my bare chest flush against his. The warmth from his skin penetrates my own, sinking deep, helping to calm me. With my cheek pressed against the base of his throat I can feel a rumble vibrating through his chest. It's a soothing sound, almost like a purr, and I relax in his hold, the scent of earth and musk enveloping me, relaxing me.
A werewolf. Can it be true? Am I really going to turn into that thing for the rest of my life? Why hasn't it ever happened before? And how on earth is it possible? My mom was a witch, my dad a regular human. Or is he...
"Is it my dad?" I keep my cheek pressed against his steady chest, even though I know I should pull away. I just can't seem to make myself move right now. "Can he really be a werewolf?"
"No way," he says. "I would have sensed it. Jack is as human as they come."
"But wouldn't you have sensed it about me too, then?"
He hesitates a moment before answering. "Well, there was something in your scent that made me wonder, but it wasn't there all the time. Just sometimes, usually when you were angry or upset, but once you were calm it would disappear again. I just assumed the scent had rubbed off on you from Olivia or Sebastian, so I never gave it much thought..."
"But how, Gray?" This time I do pull away, looking up into his eyes. "How on earth is this possible? If it isn't from my dad, then how am I like this?"
"Maybe it is from your dad," he says, looking out into the trees in thought.
"But you just said he's human."
"I said Jack is human." He meets my wide-eyed gaze with a cautious look of his own.
"What are you saying?" I ask.
"Maybe Jack isn't your real father."
Chapter 11
I sit in stunned silence, absorbing the implications. Gray looks up at the sky, then in the direction of my house. How I know my house is that way, I don't know. Instinct, I guess.
"We need to go," he says, staring into the darkness. "The sun will be rising soon and we don't want to get caught out here naked. People might come to the wrong conclusion," he says with a wink.
"Wait!" I jump up and grab his arm to stop him from leaving, my free hand wrapped protectively around my chest. I've never been naked outside like this, except for the occasional skinny-dipping trip of course, but then the water covers most of you. This is an entirely different situation. But what he just said trumps any embarrassment I might feel over my current state.
"What do you mean Jack isn't my real dad? Of course he is! That doesn't make any sense! You said yourself that my mom left the coven for him—they were married! They would have told me if he wasn't my dad."
His gaze settles on mine, communicating sympathy, but also an urgency to get back before the dawn. "We can talk about this later. Ever since Lydia, hunters have been swarming these woods looking for a mountain lion. Right now, we need to get back before we're seen. And before any of your neighbors notice your busted door and trashed living room." Gone is the playful banter and tender words. He turns away from me and lopes through the trees.
I barely have a second to admire the view before I chase after him, moving easily through the still dark forest, my eyesight able to pick out every leaf and twig. Though Gray is too far ahead for me to catch more than a glimpse here and there, I effortlessly follow the scent trail he leaves behind.
Strange that I've never noticed it before. It's like now that I've shifted for the first time, all my senses are heightened. My smell, my eyesight, even my hearing and sense of touch. I can actually sense when I get too close to a tree or bush, even before I feel it brush against my skin. It's like I've grown an extra-sensory magnetic field extending an extra few inches out from my skin.
Within minutes we're back at the edge of my yard. After a careful glance around the area, Gray darts forward, out of the trees, up the porch stairs and through the door. I follow silently behind.
It's a good thing I destroyed all the lights, I think as I look around at the devastation. If I hadn't, the Mitchell’s next door might have noticed the broken door and come to investigate. If they had walked in on this, I have no doubt they would have called the police. With the whole town on
high alert over the animal attacks, the bloody paw prints on the carpet would have been a catastrophe.
I close the door as best I can in its broken state. In the middle of the living room, Gray spins in a slow circle, letting out a whistle. "You really did a number on this place, Ems."
His gaze falls to the shattered liquor cabinet on the ground, then to the bottle of Gray Goose smashed against the wall. I wonder if he can tell that I destroyed that before I shifted, right after my blowout with Caiden.
Just thinking about Caiden has my temper rising again. I fight to control it, blocking him from my mind for the time being. Gray studies my stiff posture and looks back at the cabinet, but thankfully doesn't comment.
Turning away, he bends down to pick up a shredded pillow, and suddenly I remember that we're both stark naked. I can't say I didn’t sneak glances at him when we were in the woods, but somehow out there, in the wild, it seemed less embarrassing to run around without any clothes. In here though, inside the civilized confines of the house, I'm overcome with shyness.
I turn and dart up the stairs, calling "be right back" over my shoulder as I go. In the safety of my room, I turn on the overhead light, more for the comfort it provides than any actual need of it. I can see just as well in the dark.
I grab up a t-shirt, shoving it over my head as quickly as I can before jamming my legs into a worn pair of jeans. No sense dressing up just to clean that wreck downstairs. Catching a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror above my dresser, I pause to pick a few twigs and leaves out of my hair.
Damn, I’m a mess. My hair is wild, sticking up here and there, dirt smeared across my cheek and the bridge of my nose.
Rushing into my bathroom, I wash my face and snatch up a brush and begin painstakingly teasing out the snarls and knots from my hair, finding even more sticks and bits of debris from my wild run through the woods. As I'm busy pulling leaves from my hair, Gray's voice rumbles from downstairs. It sounds like he's talking to Vasily. I hear the words ‘Emerson’ and ‘werewolf’ and immediately turn on the faucet to block out his voice. I focus on the mess in my hair instead. If I stop to think about what just happened last night, I’ll have another panic attack, maybe even shift again. I can’t let that happen. Not again. I need to stay calm right now.