Chapter 16 #4
“We’ll be back,” he promised, his voice barely recognizable through the growl that underscored it. “Wait for us.”
Then he was gone too, following his brothers onto the wide balcony that overlooked the beach. Curiosity overcame my better judgment, and I wrapped Cade’s discarded shirt around myself before padding after them.
I reached the balcony doors just in time to witness their transformation. It had been months since I’d seen them shift. I’d forgotten how beautiful it was, how primal and awe-inspiring.
One moment they were men, the next they were dropping to all fours as fur rippled across their skin, bones cracking and reforming with practiced ease.
The change was swift, efficient, their bodies flowing seamlessly from human to wolf with predatory grace.
The transformation complete, three magnificent beasts stood where my brothers had been—Cade’s golden brown, Logan’s deep mahogany, and Keir’s pale blond.
They were magnificent—massive beasts that stood nearly as tall as my chest, their supernatural nature evident in their sheer size and the intelligence that gleamed in their eyes.
Cade’s sun- streaked golden-brown fur caught the morning light, the darker markings along his spine emphasizing his powerful frame.
Logan’s rich mahogany coat was almost crimson where the sun touched it, his muscular build making him appear even larger than his brothers.
Keir’s pale-blond fur, almost platinum in the brightness, seemed to shimmer with each movement, his sleeker form no less imposing for its elegance.
They moved with a fluid grace that belied their bulk, powerful muscles rippling beneath thick fur as they circled the balcony restlessly, each easily the size of a small horse.
Cade approached me first, his massive head level with my chest, those silver-blue eyes—still unmistakably his despite the wolf form—studying me intently.
I reached out hesitantly, my fingers sinking into the thick ruff around his neck, the luxurious coat adapted for the harsh Scottish highlands of his ancestors.
His fur was softer than I remembered, warm and alive beneath my touch, with a distinctive masklike marking on his face that gave him a regal appearance even in this form.
He leaned into my hand, a low rumble of contentment vibrating through him, the sound deeper and more powerful than any natural wolf could produce.
Logan and Keir joined him, pressing against me, their bodies warm and solid against mine.
For a moment, we stood like that—me surrounded by three massive wolves, their heat enveloping me, their scents mingling with mine.
It felt right in a way I couldn’t articulate, like pieces of a puzzle finally clicking into place.
Then Cade stepped back, his head turning toward the beach below.
The need to run, to hunt, to burn off the energy that threatened their control was evident in every tense line of his body.
Logan moved to the edge of the balcony, leaping down with effortless grace despite the fifteen-foot drop.
Keir followed, his pale fur gleaming in the morning light.
Cade hesitated, his eyes—still wolf-blue even in this form—fixed on mine. There was a question there, an invitation I couldn’t accept. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“Go,” I whispered, my throat tight with emotions I couldn’t name. “I’ll be here.”
He held my gaze for a moment longer, then turned and leaped from the balcony, joining his brothers on the beach below. The three wolves raced toward the tree line, their powerful forms quickly disappearing into the shadows of the forest.
I stood there long after they’d vanished from sight, my hand still warm from Cade’s fur, my heart aching with a longing so profound it felt physical.
I wanted to follow them. Wanted to shift and run alongside them, to feel the earth beneath my paws, the wind in my fur.
Wanted to be part of their world completely, not just this halfway existence where I could touch but not join, could taste but not consume.
My father had been a wolf, like them. The knowledge had always been there, a footnote in my complicated heritage.
But I’d never felt the pull of that side of me until now, watching them run with a freedom I couldn’t share.
I was more fox than wolf—had always been drawn to the sly, clever nature of my mother’s people rather than the pack-oriented power of my father’s.
But in that moment, I felt the wolf in me howling to be free, to join its kin in the hunt.
With a sigh, I turned back to the bedroom, the emptiness of it striking after the intensity of the morning.
The sheets were a disaster—torn in places from their claws, stained with the evidence of our activities.
I stripped them off methodically, bundling them into a corner before heading to the shower.
The hot water helped clear my head, washing away the physical evidence of the morning while doing nothing for the emotional aftermath.
By the time I emerged, wrapped in one of Cade’s ridiculously plush towels, I’d managed to rebuild some of my defenses.
This was temporary. A fantasy. A brief interlude before reality reasserted itself.
I borrowed clothes from Cade’s closet—a t-shirt that hung to mid-thigh on me and a pair of sweatpants I had to roll up six times at the waist and ankles. The effect was ridiculous, but it was better than putting on yesterday’s clothes or parading around naked.
The house was quiet as I made my way downstairs, the brothers’ absence leaving a tangible emptiness in the air. I was halfway to the kitchen when voices from the living room caught my attention. Drew’s voice, accompanied by the deeper tones of Jake and Tyler.
“—saw them running last night too,” Drew was saying as I approached. “All three of them, full wolf form, tearing across the beach like something was chasing them.”
“Territorial patrol?” Jake suggested, sounding doubtful.
“Nah,” Tyler countered. “That was pure frustration running. Trust me, I know the look.”
Drew snorted. “Yeah, because you’re such an expert on sexual frustration.”
“Hey, I’ll have you know—” Tyler broke off as I entered the room, his eyes widening slightly at my appearance. “Uh, morning, Finn.”
Drew’s head whipped around, his expression shifting from surprise to understanding to amusement in the span of seconds. “Well, well, well,” he drawled, taking in my borrowed clothes and undoubtedly disheveled appearance. “Look what the cat dragged in. Or should I say, what the wolves dragged in?”
“Shut up,” I muttered, feeling heat creep up my neck. “It’s not?—”
“Not what it looks like?” Drew finished for me, his eyebrows raised in mock disbelief. “Because it looks like you spent the night with our brothers and borrowed their clothes, which is exactly what happened, isn’t it?”
I opened my mouth to deny it, then closed it again. What was the point? The evidence was written all over me, from the clothes I wore to the marks I could feel on my neck.
Drew’s expression softened with understanding. “Must be… intense.”
The implication was clear, and I felt my face heat further. “Is there coffee?” I asked, desperate to change the subject. “Or am I going to have to function without caffeine after nearly drowning yesterday?”
“Elena made a fresh pot before she left for town,” Drew said, taking pity on me. “Kitchen’s all yours. We already ate, but there’s stuff for pancakes if you want.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, escaping to the kitchen before they could ask any more questions or make any more knowing comments.
I fixed myself coffee and a simple breakfast, not having the energy or inclination for anything elaborate.
As I ate, I thought about what Drew had said.
The brothers had been running last night too, after I’d fallen asleep.
Their control was even more tenuous than I’d realized, their wolves constantly pushing against the restraints they’d imposed.
Because of me. Because of what I did to them. Because of what I couldn’t give them.
After breakfast, I wandered toward my studio. The space welcomed me like an old friend, the familiar scents of paint and turpentine wrapping around me like a comforting blanket.
I set up a fresh canvas without conscious thought, my hands moving through the familiar motions while my mind drifted. The first stroke of charcoal was tentative, searching, but soon I was lost in the rhythm of creation, the outside world fading away as the image took shape beneath my hands.
Three wolves emerged on the canvas—running through the moonlit forest, powerful and free.
I captured them as I’d seen them this morning—Cade in the lead, his golden-brown fur catching the light; Logan slightly behind and to the right, his mahogany coat darker, more shadowed; Keir bringing up the rear, his pale-blond fur almost silver in the moonlight.
They were magnificent in their power, their unity, their wild grace.
And they were leaving.
I hadn’t consciously decided to portray them running away from the viewer, but that’s what had emerged—three wolves racing toward the horizon, disappearing into the shadows of the forest. Leaving me behind.
I stared at the nearly completed painting, my throat tight with emotions I couldn’t name.
It was good—one of my best works, actually.
The technical skill was there in every line, every shadow, every suggestion of movement.
But it was the emotion that made it powerful—the longing, the loss, the acceptance of something that could never be.
“It’s beautiful.”
I startled at the voice, nearly dropping my brush. Drew stood in the doorway, his expression uncharacteristically serious as he studied the painting.
“Thanks,” I managed, setting down my brush before I could ruin the canvas with an unsteady hand. “It’s just a sketch, really.”