Chapter 7
T he wet, earthy smell of leaf litter filled his nose. With effort, Buck managed to lift his pounding head out of the dirt far enough to spit out a mouthful of blood.
“Motherf—” he started; and then, remembering that there was a decent chance a kid would be in earshot: “Mother lover .”
The words came out thick and slurred. His tongue throbbed, which was a pain in the—well, literally his mouth, but also his ass.
It was bad enough having to chain himself to his bed every night.
If his transformations were getting so bad that he was at risk of biting off his own tongue, he was going to have to start sleeping in a damn ball gag.
Still, if he was face down in mulch, at least he couldn’t be draped over a cabin roof.
Wincing, Buck pushed himself upright, taking stock.
General feeling of having been ripped cell from cell and stuck haphazardly back together with crazy glue, check.
Blessedly peaceful forest, surprised check.
Lack of a circle of goggling children, relieved check.
“Well,” he said out loud. “That’s an improvement.”
This feeling of warm, pleased accomplishment lasted precisely seven seconds, which was how long it took him to get to his feet, brush himself off, and turn around to find Honey.
She stood frozen, face white as milk, mouth open. She looked as though he’d just plummeted from the sky in a crash of thunder. This, he supposed, was fair enough, given that it was no doubt exactly what he’d done.
“Y-you,” she stammered. “You… you’re…”
He followed the direction of her horrified stare. Downward.
What he was—of course—was stark, balls-out naked.
With a strangled yelp, he dove for the nearest cover. This, naturally, turned out to be a bramble bush. Fuck his life.
“Everything is fine!” he yelled, crouching as low as he could get. Thorns jabbed his junk. “Nothing to see here. All totally normal.”
“Nothing to see?” Honey’s voice rose an octave, getting louder. “Totally normal?! ”
Buck bit back a swear word. Grabbing a handful of brambles, he dragged them down in a futile effort to provide more cover. “Look, I am really not in a fit state for this conversation. Will you please go back to camp?”
“No, I will not go back to camp!”
Her footsteps stomped closer, with the force of a woman whose patience was well and truly shredded. A mere thorn bush was clearly not about to dissuade her.
Looking around wildly, Buck spotted a sign roped to a nearby tree.
He lunged for it, for the first time grateful for his newfound speed and strength.
Tearing the sign free, he whipped it in front of his midsection.
This meant that when Honey stormed into view a second later, his genitals were safely labeled: PRIVATE PROPERTY - KEEP OUT.
“What is happening?” Honey looked on the verge of either screaming or throwing a punch. “Why—how—Buck, what the hell is going on here?”
He kept his sign strategically positioned. “I should think that’s obvious.”
“No, it is not!”
Okay, now he was getting annoyed. Buck wasn’t clear on shifter etiquette, but surely if you encountered unexpected nakedness, it was basic common decency to tactfully withdraw without asking questions.
So he had a minor personal problem. There was no call for her to demand all the embarrassing details.
“Woman, I don’t make a habit of going hiking in my birthday suit,” he snapped. “Do I really have to spell it out?”
“Yes!” she cried. “Please spell it out! That would be very helpful, thank you! Buck, a moment ago you were a giant glowing wolf! With wings!”
He grimaced. “I know. The wings are a bit much.”
Honey stared at him for a second.
“Buck,” she said after a moment, sounding like she was only connected to her sanity by a single, rapidly thinning thread.
“The wings are not the issue. Or rather, I have very definite questions about the wings, but they are not my foremost concern. Forget the wings. At this precise moment, I am most interested in the question of whether I am losing my mind.”
“What?” Now it was his turn to stare at her. “Why?”
“Because apparently, you turn into a… a…” Words seemed to fail her. “A giant glowing wolf!”
“Will you please stop calling me that?”
“Well, what are you then?”
“A man,” he said firmly. “Who has a slight issue. That’s all.”
“A slight issue?” Honey pinched the bridge of her nose. “You call that a—right. Okay, let’s start again. Why do you turn into a gia—a, a big shiny canine?”
“Believe me, it wasn’t my idea.” He turned a little, showing her the scar circling his upper arm like the devil’s own cattle brand. “Come on, you must have recognized the signs. I thought everyone knew about hellhounds.”
“No, I do not know about hellhounds! And what do you mean, everyone ?” Honey sucked in a breath, her eyes widening. “Wait, when Moira said she’d warned Ragvald about your problem—is this what she meant?”
“Well, I wasn’t there, but I assume so. It’s not like I have another problem.”
This was not precisely true, given that his other problem was currently standing in front of him, inexplicably hyperventilating. A cold feeling trickled down his spine, not entirely due to his lack of pants.
“Look, sit down before you pass out,” he said, now worried in several directions at once. “Why are you being so damn odd about this?”
Honey did not give any sign of having heard him. She seemed to have shut down, like she simply couldn’t process any more input.
“Moira knows?” she said, sounding more like she was talking to herself than him. “And Ragvald… and then there was Leonie, she didn’t seem surprised… does everyone except me know that you’re a—an actual werewolf ?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said over the growing alarm bells ringing in his mind. “I’m not a motherloving werewolf.”
“Oh, no, of course you aren’t!” Honey’s voice took on a shrill, sarcastic edge one step short from a full-blown meltdown. “How silly of me! You just turn into a giant wolf! That’s not at all the literal definition of being a werewolf!”
“Damn it, woman!” The alarm bells had turned into full on sirens, and were getting louder by the second. “Why are you acting as though you’ve never seen anyone shift before?”
Honey flung her hands in the air. Buck was pretty sure that if he’d been wearing a shirt, she would have grabbed him by it and shaken him until his teeth rattled. He took a prudent step back.
“Because no, I’ve never seen anyone shift before!” she yelled. “If that’s what you just did! Buck, what is going on? ”
And looking into those wide, panicked, utterly baffled eyes—those eyes that still didn’t recognize him, when every beat of his heart echoed hers—he finally understood.
“Oh fuck,” Buck breathed. “You aren’t a shifter.”