Chapter Five #2
My laugh is thin. “That easy?”
“No.” He wipes his hands on a rag. “But that simple.”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re using my own emotional damage against me.”
“I’m using consistency. Very different.”
“My wolf wants you to come.”
His expression goes still and the bond pulses. There’s no taking the words back now. I don’t even know if I want to.
Daniel’s wolf pushes into his eyes, amber glowing brighter in the kitchen light. His chest expands on a slow breath, and the scent of him deepens. Wilder. Darker.
My body notices. Very enthusiastically.
“Do you want me to come?” he asks.
Damn him! Damn him for asking the one question that matters. I look away, toward the back door, toward the night waiting beyond it.
“Yes,” I whisper. “But no touching. No claiming. No weird wolf dominance nonsense.”
His mouth twitches. “Define weird wolf dominance nonsense.”
“You’ll know it when I stab you.”
“Clear boundaries. I like that.”
“This isn’t funny.”
His smile fades. “I know.”
For a moment, neither of us moves. Then Daniel nods toward the door. “Where do you run?”
“There’s a trail behind the old mill. It leads into the woods.”
“Do you feel safe there?”
“Yes.”
“Then lead the way.”
I change in the storage room because shifting requires nudity, and I’m brave, not suicidal. I fold my clothes with shaking hands, every sound in the bakery too loud. Daniel moves somewhere beyond the door, quiet and respectful and very much not peeking.
Again, rude of him.
My wolf is practically vibrating. When I step out wrapped in my robe, Daniel is by the back door with his back turned. I stop. He’s shirtless. Because apparently the universe has decided I have not suffered enough.
His back is broad, muscles shifting beneath tanned skin as he turns slightly at the sound of my footsteps. Scars mark him here and there, thin pale lines across one shoulder, another near his ribs. His jeans hang low on his hips, unbuttoned, ready to be discarded before the shift.
My mouth goes dry.
He looks over his shoulder, sees my face, and smiles slowly. “Supervising again?”
“I was checking for injuries.”
“With your eyes?”
“I’m very thorough.”
His laugh is low and warm, and I hate how much I like it.
We slip out the back door and head through the alley toward the old mill. The town is quiet now, the air cool against my bare legs beneath the robe. Daniel walks beside me but leaves a careful distance between us. Not too close. Not too far.
My wolf notices, and so do I.
At the tree line, I stop. The woods stretch ahead, dark and silver beneath the rising moon. Pine and damp earth fill the air. Crickets sing in the grass. Somewhere deeper in, an owl calls.
My heart pounds.
Daniel stands a few feet away, his boots already discarded, jeans hanging open. “We don’t have to do this.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
I turn to glare at him, but he only looks back, steady and patient.
I sigh. “Yes, Daniel. I know.”
“Good.”
“You’re bossy in a very quiet way.”
“You’re deflecting in a very loud way.”
“I liked you better when you were only fixing appliances.”
“No, you didn’t.” Unfortunately, he’s right, and I hate that too.
I untie the robe and let it fall. Daniel looks away immediately, and my stomach flips. Not because he does not look but because he wants to. I can smell the lust on him, hot and sharp but restrained. The knowledge slides over my skin, waking every nerve. My wolf preens, deeply pleased.
“Stop being noble,” I mutter.
His voice is rough. “Stop being naked.”
“I need to shift.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then suffer quietly.”
He laughs, but it breaks halfway through when I let my wolf rise, and the shift takes me.
Bones crack. Skin pulls. Heat and pain roll through me in a familiar wave.
I drop to my hands and knees, breath catching as fur pushes through skin and my body reshapes itself.
It hurts, but not badly. Not like it used to after the rejection.
Not like dragging a wounded part of myself back to the surface.
Tonight, my wolf comes willingly. Eagerly.
The world sharpens, and scents explode around me. Pine. Moss. Night air. Daniel. I shake out my silver-brown fur and lift my head to find Daniel staring at me.
Not with pity or possession. But wonder.
“Beautiful,” he says softly.
The word lands differently like this. My wolf hears it. Feels it. Accepts it without the human need to flinch. Then Daniel strips out of his jeans and shifts.
His wolf is magnificent. Dark gold fur ripples over powerful muscle, deepening to brown along his spine. A white blaze cuts across his chest, bright beneath the moon. He’s bigger than me, heavier, built for strength, but his amber eyes remain Daniel’s.
Warm. Patient.
Mine, my wolf whispers, and I don’t correct her this time.
Daniel lowers his head slightly. Not submission but invitation. My wolf bounds forward and nips his ear, and Daniel jerks back, offended.
I dart away. Behind me, he huffs. Then he gives chase. For the first time in years, I run with another wolf and don’t feel watched. I feel free.
The forest blurs around us. Dirt flies beneath my paws. Branches whip past. The moonlight scatters across the trail, silver and broken. Daniel runs behind me, then beside me, then slows when I dart between trees too narrow for his broader body.
Show-off, his look says when he catches up. I bare my teeth in a wolfish grin, and he bumps my shoulder with his. The contact sends the bond humming through both of us, bright and fierce. I stumble, then recover, snapping at him for the indignity.
He sneezes. Actually sneezes. And I stop dead.
Daniel’s wolf blinks. I stare. Then I make a sound suspiciously close to laughter, and he growls at me. I drop my front half low, tail high.
Play.
His ears perk right before he launches at me.
We tumble through leaves, a mess of fur, paws, snapping teeth, and ridiculous growls.
He’s careful with his strength, even in wolf form.
I notice. My animal notices too. He lets me shove him down, lets me nip at his ruff, lets me pin him for one glorious second before he rolls and traps me beneath one massive paw.
I snarl. He looks deeply smug. I bite his paw. He yelps and leaps back, and I bolt.
The run stretches on until my lungs burn and my body sings. By the time we reach the clearing near the creek, I’m panting, exhilarated, and more alive than I have felt in longer than I want to admit.
Daniel slows near the water, and I pad beside him. The moon reflects off the creek in broken silver. The night is cool, wrapping around us. For a while, neither of us shifts back. We simply stand there, shoulder to shoulder, wolves beneath the same moon.
It should scare me, and it does, but not enough to make me leave.
I shift first. The transformation rolls through me, pulling fur back into skin, reshaping paws into hands, muzzle into face. I end up crouched in the grass, naked and breathless, hair falling around me like a dark curtain.
Daniel shifts a few feet away, and I don’t look.
That is a lie. I absolutely look.
He kneels in the grass, head bowed, broad chest rising and falling, moonlight sliding over every hard line of him. When his eyes lift to mine, they are still wolf-bright.
The air changes and the playful warmth of the run becomes something heavier. Hotter.
My skin prickles. My nipples tighten in the cool air, and Daniel’s gaze catches the movement before he drags his eyes back to my face. His control is visible, every muscle locked tight.
I should reach for my robe, but my robe is back at the tree line. A planning flaw, possibly intentional on my wolf’s part.
Daniel clears his throat. “We should head back.”
“Yes,” I say, but neither of us moves.
The creek murmurs beside us while the bond hums between us. My body still vibrates from the run, from freedom, from him. Desire unfurls low in my belly, warm and bold and impossible to blame entirely on fate. Because I know this man now.
Not all of him. Not enough. But enough to know he stops when I need him to. Enough to know he listens. Enough to know his wolf could overpower mine, and instead he lets me bite his paw and win.
A laugh escapes me.
Daniel blinks. “What?”
“You sneezed.”
His mouth falls open slightly. “During a sacred wolf run, this is what you’re focusing on?”
“It was a delicate little sneeze.”
“It was not delicate.”
“It was adorable.”
His eyes narrow. “Take that back.”
“No.”
“Holly.”
“Daniel.”
He moves faster than I expect, closing the distance between us.
I squeal and try to scramble away, but he catches me around the waist and pulls me down into the grass with him. He’s careful even now, twisting so he takes the impact, but I land half across his chest, laughing like I have lost my mind.
His arms come around me, and the laughter fades, just like that.
My naked body presses against his. Breast to chest. Thigh to thigh. His cock is hard against my hip, thick and unmistakable, and heat flashes through me so sharply I gasp.
Daniel goes still beneath me. “Holly,” he says, voice strained. “Tell me to let go.”
I should. I know I should. Instead, I lift my head and look at him. His hair is mussed from the shift. Grass clings to one shoulder. His eyes are dark, hungry, and so careful it makes something inside me ache.
“I don’t want you to let go,” I whisper.
His fingers flex against my back. “Then tell me what you do want.”
My heart slams against my ribs and the old fear rises. Not because of Daniel. Because wanting is dangerous. Wanting gives someone a weapon. Wanting means there’s something to lose.
But Daniel waits. Breathing hard. Hands steady. Wolf quiet, and waiting for me.
I lean down and kiss him.