His tongue took a tour of her navel before his hands reached up to cup both breasts. He stroked her nipples until they popped. “I think I’ve got the fire started up here, but maybe I should go down and stoke the furnace. What do you think?”
Sophie’s fire was lit as soon as his beard began sanding her belly. Her need was urgent by the time he headed south. She’d been surprised his tongue wasn’t scorched when he licked her burning clit and that his sword didn’t melt at least a little when he plunged in.
It had been a memorable, wonderful, lovely encounter. No wolves in sight.
A very nice homecoming. So far, so good.
After turning on the bathroom light, she hesitates before looking in the mirror. She steels herself, then steps before it. Just as it had last night, the mirror reflects her every-day face. She stretches her bare arms out before her, smooth, flawless. She turns sidewise and stretches her neck to view as much of her back as possible. Fine. Just fine. Her legs too give nothing away.
After downing her first cup of joe of the day and dressing, she returns to the bathroom to brush her teeth. As she squeezes out the toothpaste, curiosity strikes. She’s done nothing to test her wolf powers since she left Isabelle. This may be her only chance all day to experiment. She locks the bathroom door. Better safe than sorry. She grabs both sides of the sink, looks into the mirror, and wills her wolf incisors to descend. Nearly simultaneously with the thought, and without pain, she has fangs.
She tentatively explores them with her tongue. Sharp. Very sharp. Hmmmm. Somebody’d have to be pretty stupid to mess with her now. Okay, time to end the experiment. They disappear.
****
As she effortlessly speeds through Central Park on her way to school, watching for icy patches, she realizes with some surprise that she’s not in a terrible mood. Not as emotionally tortured as she was in the days before her transition. Certainly, she should be more worried about giving Nora, her best friend and fellow teacher, a reasonable excuse for missing two days of school and being out of contact for four? She’d called in sick to work, but a normal illness would never have kept her from answering Nora’s texts and calls. She must be wondering why the hell Sophie had avoided her for days. She must be as pissed as she is mystified.
If roles were reversed, that’s how Sophie would react. She and Nora tell each other everything, right down to favorite sexual positions. As much as Sophie loves Will, Nora is her true soulmate. When she’s with Nora, she hides nothing and can say anything. They trust in each other’s goodness, so a bitchy off-hand comment on another teacher’s poor fashion choice isn’t character defining. They both value honesty, but permit lies to protect others’ feelings or to get out of boring or unpleasant situations. They push each other to take risks, like when Nora made her ski a black diamond trail. They rely on each other to let the other know when she’s full of shit. Just as Sophie’s always planned to grow old with Will--in about sixty years--she’s anticipated aging gracefully alongside Nora.
She’ll be seeing Nora in mere minutes, so she desperately needs an explanation for why she was AWOL over the weekend. But, her mind won’t cooperate. It’s stuck on the question of whether she can or should share the big news. If any person in her life can roll with this, it’s Nora. Yet, maybe she wouldn’t be doing Nora any favors by cluing her in. It’d be like telling her I have a fatal illness, but she can’t tell anyone.
And, would Nora look at her in the same way? Could they remain as close as they are now? It’d been a little awkward back when she’d moved out of the apartment they’d shared and in with Will. Nora had eventually admitted she felt a bit abandoned, but they’d adjusted.
That adjustment, though, was nothing compared to this one. At least they’d remained members of the same species.
When Sophie enters her classroom, Nora is already there, sitting behind her desk. Glowering. Okay, Sophie thinks, she’s angry, but she still brought me coffee. Sophie greets her and hangs up her coat. Nora just sits there, waiting.
Uh oh. Sophie knows her excuse can’t include anything that Will might unknowingly contradict. It would be awful if he said something about the “conference” in front of Nora. If the truth weren’t such a big deal, she’d spill it, but she’s not ready. Think, Sophie, think.
“I’m sorry,” she gets out. “Ever since the attack, I just had this burning desire to get away by myself to the country. I told the school I was sick, and I told Will I was at a conference. I was afraid if I told either one of you, you’d worry or you’d want to come. So, I’m telling you now. Please believe how sorry I am.”
Nora squinches her face and studies Sophie’s. “This doesn’t add up. Why would you want to be alone in the country after being attacked by a wolf in the middle of civilization? Unless you weren’t alone. Are you having an affair? If you’re fooling around and not telling me, that would be so unforgivable.”
Sophie can tell from Nora’s expression that she’s just teasing. “Yes, you’re right. I cannot tell a lie. Mike and I have been seeing each other secretly for years and we’re madly in love. Happy?”
“Very funny,” Nora replies. Michael Gardner is Nora’s long-time long-distance beau who works in D.C. They try to see each other most weekends.
“You haven’t noticed the way he looks at me?” Sophie says, continuing the diversion.
“Very funny. Okay. But, it’s so weird that you went away without telling me. I was worried.”
It pains Sophie to lie to Nora, but she has to. “I wanted to prove to myself that I’m capable of being on my own. That I haven’t become a big fat coward. To show I still have spunk.”
“Whoever told you that you were spunky? You’re a barrel of monkeys, but spunky is for people who want to put on a show or organize a pep rally. Is that how you see you yourself?”
“Well, no. I just wanted to prove that I’m not too chicken for a solo adventure. To be away from all the nice people who constantly ask me how I am. Forgiven?”
“I guess so,” Nora says, pushing a coffee towards Sophie. “Where’d you go?”
Sophie had hoped to get away with the generic “country,” which merely implies something north of Manhattan. If she says Vermont or the Berkshires, Nora will certainly ask her where she stayed. It takes her a moment to come up with a specific place.
“To the Sagamore up on Lake George. I couldn’t afford it in season, but the rates are great this time of year. It’s pretty isolated,” Sophie lies.
“Oh, you brave girl you. So, you went to a luxury resort to prove what a pioneer you are. Give me a break.”
“I said I wanted to be alone, not uncomfortable.”
Nora rises from Sophie’s chair and tosses her empty paper cup into the wastebasket. Just before she’s out the door, Sophie calls her back.
“Nora, do you think my weekend away has changed me in any way? Do I seem different?”
“In what way?”
“In any way.”
Nora sees she’s serious, comes closer, and takes her hand. “Well, your face looks great. Did you summon your courage and get a facial or a salt scrub?”
“Well, I did have a very nice massage,” Sophie says, grateful for the opportunity to be honest.
CHAPTER TWO
“Isabelle, you know how grateful I am for all you’ve done for me. But, I have no desire to learn how to shift into my wolf. None. But, if you can teach me how to never become a wolf again, bring it on.”
Sophie and Isabelle sit facing each other in the snug library of the Perez family’s Fifth Avenue penthouse. It’s where they spent most of their time together the previous weekend when Isabelle “hosted” Sophie’s transition. Tonight’s lesson, Shapeshifter 101, is off to a tense start.
“I wish I could promise that you can just decide never to shift again,” Isabelle explains, ignoring Sophie’s hostile tone. “But, that’s not possible. You may be fortunate always, but there is no guarantee. Let us say, you feel threatened for some reason. your wolf may be like
a reflex. It will be automatic.”
Sophie sips her wine, wiggles further down into-cushioned seat, and studies the fire. She knows she shouldn’t be pissed at Isabelle, who’s just the gracious messenger. Why did she just sound so angry? She’s been in a fine mood all day.
“If your shift is an accident, you have to know how to shift back. Not that it’s difficult,” Isabelle continues. “Of course, it is not so easy to shift back with all your clothes intact. That takes more practice.”
Clothes. She quickly remembers that when Isabelle first shifted in front of her, she had gone from wolf back to well-dressed woman in a single stroke. An important talent. “How much danger would there have to be for my wolf to, you know, just come out?”
“Darling, I have no idea. It is different for everyone. Do not expect statistics.”
“It’s not like I encounter danger on a daily basis,” Sophie reasons. “Guillermo was the first and only person in my whole life to physically attack me, and he wasn’t even a person then.”
Isabelle frowns and puts her wine down. “Do you remember our talk about each shifter having a unique scent?”
Sophie squirms. The whole scent thing makes her uncomfortable, too easy to equate scent with smell, odor, or worse, stink. She shudders. “Of course, although I’d like to forget about it.”
“Your scent might possibly bring unwanted attention from others of our kind. You must be aware and prepared.”
Sophie remembers her encounter on the subway, just a few days before her transition, with a stranger who turned out to be a shifter. At first she’d noticed him just because he was hot, but when he’d flashed his wolf fangs at her, she’d panicked. Her terror had grown when he’d followed her out of the subway and cornered her on an empty street. He’d followed her, he quickly explained, because he thought she’d purposely lured him with her scent. When her heart resumed its normal beat, she’d told him to get his nose fixed and he’d quietly gone away.
Isabelle is right. She has to be prepared.
“I’m sorry for giving you a hard time,” she tells Isabelle. “You’ve been so good to me. I’m just having a hard time accepting all this, deciding what to do, how to cope.”
“Your experience is far more difficult than mine,” Isabelle responds. “When I made the decision to marry Enrique and become half wolf, his world became mine. While we are part of all society, most time is spent with family and friends who live as we do. I miss my parents and old friends, but they are my past “
Feeling restless, Sophie gets up and walks over to the fading fire. “Well, teacher. What’s my next step? How do I learn to make like a wolf?”
“Sophie, this is not something you just study with a book. You must go into training.”
****
On Saturday morning, despite now being half wolf, Sophie’s nose, toes, and fingers are already burning by the time Isabelle shows up for their eight a.m. Central Park rendezvous. It’s cloudy, windy, and nearly zero degrees. So far, training is a real pain. Isabelle laughs when she sees Sophie’s pained expression,
“Do not worry. We will not be here for long,” she comforts Sophie. “I just want to give you an idea of what it will take to match the strength and speed of others of our kind.”
After pausing to think how much she dislikes it when Isabelle uses the phrase “our kind,” Sophie must run hard to catch up with her as she enters the park at what appears to be an easy trot.
Sophie is breathing hard when she catches up to Isabelle. The deserted area--most of the park is empty because of time and temperature--offers a stand of tall firs on one side and, several yards away, a mini-range of charcoal-hued boulders.
Isabelle gives Sophie a minute to catch her breath. “Ah, I am sorry if I go too fast.”
Sophie isn’t used to being left in somebody’s else’s dust, snow in this case. She knows she’s not an Olympian, but she’s unpleasantly surprised by how easily Isabelle outran her. But, she thinks, she shouldn’t be.
“It’s okay. The air is so cold, I couldn’t breathe properly.” She’s aware that Isabelle is breathing the same air she is, but …. The run warmed up her toes, but her fingers still ache. Isabelle shows no sign of discomfort.
Isabelle walks over to the trees, looks them over, and selects a pine with limbs that start far over their heads. She summons Sophie over. After taking off her gloves, Isabelle easily leaps and catches a branch about eight feet up. Hanging on, she does at least ten chin-ups before easily swinging one leg over the branch so that she’s sitting sideways looking down at Sophie.
She points to an adjacent branch and tells Sophie to go for it. Fairly confident she can make it--Isabelle certainly made it look easy--Sophie bends her knees and jumps. Her hands hook the branch, but slip and she falls clumsily to the hard, icy ground.
After Isabelle tells her to take off her gloves and try again, Sophie reluctantly stuffs her mittens into her jacket pockets and prepares to try again. One, two, three and go. This time her numb fingers manage to grab hold of the scaly bark. Proud of her accomplishment, she’s content to just hang there.
“Wonderful, Sophie,” Isabelle praises, letting go of her branch to clap. “Now try to pull yourself up.”
Come on wolf, Sophie thinks. Straining, she pulls herself up so her head is even with the branch once, twice, and then again. On her fourth try, her arms give out and once again she lands butt first on the frozen ground.
Isabelle gracefully swings down, landing on her toes like a prima ballerina. “That was a wonderful beginning,” she says, enveloping Sophie in a crushing hug. “Now we go over there.” She takes Sophie’s arm and pulls her toward the rocks.
“I know you have not tried to shift,” Isabelle says, placing an arm around Sophie’s shoulders. “But, have you attempted any smaller abilities?”
Isabelle is pleased when Sophie admits to her fang experiment. “That is good. And you saw there was no pain?”
No, Sophie reluctantly admits, wondering where all this is leading.
“Now, please again take off your gloves.” Sophie obliges. “Very well. Now, just as you did with your mouth, concentrate on having your claws come from just your fingers. You don’t want to destroy your shoes.”
Sophie bends her arms at the elbow, like she’s doing a bicep curl, and watches as her fingernails are replaced by curved, pristine white claws. She’s fine with the claws, but hates the fur that comes down to her wrists. Gross. Unsure of what to do, she looks to Isabelle for direction.
“You see,” Isabelle says, “your claws are clean and very white like a baby’s fingernails. But, they are very strong. Come, you’ll see.”
She heads toward the largest boulder with the steepest face. In the seconds it takes her to reach it, her hands and feet sprout claws that enable her to gain traction and easily ascend to the top. Sophie marvels that Isabelle’s feet, which look so good in Louboutin spikes, can make such an adjustment.
“Sophie, since you must keep your shoes, go to where the hill is smaller and begin your climb.”
Sophie hesitates, because even the boulders at the lower side of the formation look slick with ice. But, an urge--is it her wolf-- takes over and she begins scrambling up the gentlest side of the smallest boulder. From the beginning, to move forward and upward, she must use her claws to dig into the stony porous surface. Her Nike-clad feet slip and slide, slowing her down. She finds that spreading out her claws so her grip is wider and stronger helps her move faster.
“Brava, Sophie, you are nearly here. Come, I will welcome you.”
Just as Sophie moves into Isabelle’s embrace, the wind picks up and snow whips at her face. She doesn’t care. She is victorious.
Acknowledgements
My thanks go to my early readers for their input and edits: Sarah Landsberg, Martha Montgomery, Judy Moore and Stephanie Madden.
Sophie's First Shift: There’s No Turning Back (Shifters Take Manhattan Book 1) Page 7