Chapter 27
F inally, an evening off.
Honey breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped out of the shower.
Being a summer camp counselor was even more exhausting than teaching—though also infinitely more rewarding.
Much as she loved the kids, she was looking forward to some time to herself.
After another long, busy week at camp, all she wanted was to retreat to her room and fall into bed.
Be honest, Honey. That’s not all you want.
She grimaced at her reflection in the mirror as she towel-dried her hair. Maintaining her constant pretense was like having to balance a towering stack of plates. She couldn’t add any more lies to the teetering pile—not even to herself.
It was getting harder and harder to act like she was Buck’s mate. Not because it was difficult to hold his hand or gaze at him over the kids’ heads like a love-struck idiot. That was easy.
The hard part was remembering to stop.
It felt like the most natural thing in the world to lean against his shoulder during a rest break.
To let herself watch the movement of his muscles as he chopped wood for the campfire, or the gleam of sunlight on his skin.
To tease him until he growled and shot her that look; the one that promised some later, private retribution, and always made her toes curl.
But of course that later moment never came.
After the sports shed incident, he hadn’t pulled her into the woods or into an empty cabin again.
Apparently, once had been enough, just as one kiss had been enough.
He stuck religiously to their agreement—just enough public displays of affection to maintain the charade, and nothing more.
God, how she wanted more.
But that wasn’t going to happen. She wasn’t really his mate, after all. It was all just pretend.
And I have to remember that.
Maybe an evening away from him would help. Filled with renewed determination, Honey pulled on sweatpants and a fresh t-shirt—not a camp staff shirt, but a pink one from home, emblazoned with the Chicago skyline. It was about time she reminded herself where she really belonged.
Slinging her towel over her arm, she left the shower block, heading back to her cabin. The front light was on, attracting a flurry of longing moths. Estelle, Flora, Beth and Claire sat across the steps like a small, mismatched barricade, completely blocking the way.
“Hi girls,” Honey said as she came up to them. “Could you move over, please? I can’t get to the door.”
None of them budged. They all wore matching serious expressions, like a tiny board of directors. Honey felt her chances of a nice, relaxing evening slip away.
“Honey,” Estelle said, “How come you never go out to shift with the other counselors?”
… I should really be used to this by now.
At least this time she had enough presence of mind to prevent herself from blurting out something stupid. Keeping her expression carefully neutral, Honey draped her towel over the porch railing to dry, buying herself a moment to think.
“That’s a strange question.” She sat down on the step below the girls. “Why do you ask?”
The girls exchanged looks, as though hoping someone else would answer.
“Well…Director Zephyr always says that it’s important to be ourselves,” Beth said. “Our whole selves, not just the human part or the animal part. He says it’s not healthy to stay in one shape for too long.”
“If I don’t shift at least once a day, I get wangry,” Flora chipped in. “That’s what my moms call it. Like hangry, only with a wombat.”
“Well, not everyone is like that,” Honey said. “Different people have different needs.”
And you kids can’t find out how different I am.
“Yeah, but everyone knows it’s not healthy to never shift,” Estelle said. She heaved a tragic sigh. “That’s why I’m so little. Not being able to shift is stunting my growth.”
“It is not ,” Beth said. “I’ve seen your baby pictures. You were about the size of a kitten. You’re just naturally tiny.”
“Well, my unicorn won’t be,” Estelle retorted. “When I can shift, I’m gonna be way bigger than your pegasus, so there.”
“Guys,” Flora muttered. “Come on. We practiced this.”
“Oh, right.” Estelle reassembled her expression of grave concern. “The point is, we’re worried that you’re not letting your animal out enough. I mean, even Claire shifts more often than you.”
This was news to Honey. “Really? I didn’t think you shifted at all, Claire.”
“Sometimes,” Claire whispered. “In private. Where no one can see.”
“But we know you don’t, because you’re always either with us or in your room or with Buck,” Flora said, which was unfortunately true. “And obviously you can’t be shifting with him , because he can’t. I mean, not deliberately.”
“Even Buck shifts at night and flies around,” Beth said earnestly. “He doesn’t want to, but his animal makes him do it anyway, no matter how hard he fights it. And we all know that’s his real problem. If he didn’t resist the shift so much, he’d be able to control it.”
“He’s wangry too.” Flora frowned. “Though he’s not a wombat, so I guess he’s zangry.”
“You mean thangry,” Estelle corrected.
“We are still not doing either zapdog or thunderhound,” Beth hissed at them both. She turned back to Honey. “The point is, shifters need to shift. So we’re worried about you.”
“I appreciate your concern, girls, but there’s no need to worry.” Honey rose, gathering up her things. “I promise you, I’m fine.”
None of the girls moved.
“That’s what Buck says too,” Estelle said. “And look what he’s like.”
“We do not need two Bucks,” Flora said fervently. “Like, ever .”
“You need to let your wolf do wolf things, or you’ll lose touch with her.” Beth looked genuinely worried about this. “Please, alpha. You do so much for us, we just want to make sure you take care of yourself, too. Promise that you will, okay?”
Honey hesitated. She hated having to deceive the kids. She couldn’t lie right to those innocent, trusting faces.
But if she kept evading the issue, they’d start to become suspicious. She’d already come perilously close to a fatal mis-step with Ignatius. She couldn’t afford to make another.
“Well… all right,” she said reluctantly, trying to convince herself that it wasn’t really a lie. “If it’ll set your minds at rest, I promise that I’ll take time to relax and meet my own needs.”
Estelle held out a crooked finger. “Pinky promise?”
Honey obediently hooked her smallest finger around Estelle’s tiny one. “Pinky promise. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
The girls stayed parked on the step, looking up at her expectantly.
“Uh.” Honey’s heart sank. “You… want me to go… now?”
“It is a nice night,” Flora pointed out.
“Lovely full moon,” Estelle said encouragingly. “Perfect for howling at.”
“Estelle,” Beth said out of the corner of her mouth. “It’s waning gibbous. Don’t you pay any attention in stargazing session?”
“Well, that’s even better than full,” Estelle said. She seemed to flounder for a second. “Because it’s, uh…”
“More private?” Claire offered.
Estelle seized on this. “Right. Private. Like, if it was a full moon, every other wolf shifter would be out in those woods. But tonight you should have it all to yourself.”
“Mostly,” Flora added, shooting the other girls a sly grin.
Beth elbowed the wombat shifter in the ribs. “The important thing is that you go out into the woods and have a proper run.”
“Feel the wind in your fur,” Claire suggested. “Get away from the camp for a bit.”
“You could go up to that place Buck showed us,” Estelle said a touch too innocently. “You know, the pretty one, with the waterfall and the cool view? That would be the perfect place to really let your wolf out.”
Flora nodded so vigorously her curls bounced like springs. “If you howled at the moon up there, I bet it would carry for miles.”
Honey was definitely starting to smell a rat, and not the fictitious one that lived under her bed. “You seem to have given this a lot of thought, girls. Do I need to get you to pinky promise not to sneak out after me?”
“No!” Beth exclaimed. “We would never break the rules by going out after dark without a counselor. Would we , Estelle?”
“Nope,” Estelle agreed cheerfully. “At least, not this time. The whole point is for you to be alone out there with—ow! Beth!”
The form of the rat was starting to become apparent. It was wolf-shaped, with wings.
Still, at least that meant the girls didn’t suspect the real reason she never shifted. And if she played this right, she could keep it that way.
Honey narrowed her eyes at the girls. “You swear that you’ll all stay right here? And that the boys will be in their own cabin too?”
“We swear.” Flora traced an X over the center of her chest. “Cross our hearts and hope to die.”
“We really aren’t trying to trick you, Honey,” Beth said, her young face filled with touching sincerity. “We just want you to be happy.”
Honey sighed, surrendering. “All right then. But I’m going to ask Leonie to check in on you, understand?”
“No problem.” Estelle exchanged triumphant smirks with the other girls. “Have a good night.”
As Honey walked away, she heard whispered giggles behind her back, along with what sounded awfully like a high five.
Well, that’s not ominous at all.
She still had misgivings about this whole business, but she had pinky promised.
Not that she had any intention of actually going for a midnight hike—which, without shifter senses and stamina, seemed like an excellent way to break a leg—but the girls didn’t have to know that.
She’d only promised to relax, after all.
She would get away from camp, like the girls had suggested, she decided.
Take her car out for a drive, maybe find a fast food place.
A little taste of normality would be good for her.
No matter how much the camp had started to feel like home, it was time to remind herself that there was a bigger world out there.
A world where kids were just kids, and nobody turned into animals.
A world that didn’t include a certain grumpy, ridiculous man with shoulders for days and dark, wolfish eyes.
She was halfway to the parking lot when a four-legged form leaped out of the shadows. Feathered wings spread wide, barring her way.
A few weeks ago, I would have screamed, she reflected wryly.
“Hello, Rufus,” she said. “Is everything all right?”
The young griffin’s tufted, leonine tail lashed from side to side. His hooked beak opened to let out a hiss.
Clearly something was not all right. Honey looked around for Finley, but for once Rufus was without his loyal shadow.
“Rufus?” she said, starting to get more concerned. She crouched so that she could stroke his soft, feathered head. “Don’t worry. Whatever it is, I’m here to help. Let’s go find Finley, okay? That way you’ll be able to tell me what’s wrong.”
The griffin hissed again. His golden flanks shimmered, shifting. Rufus shook his head, his cheek against her palm.
“Not Finley? One of the others, then?”
Rufus shook his head again, even more vehemently. He pulled a crumpled note out of his pocket, thrusting it into her hand.
IT’S A TRAP
IGNATIUS SUSPECTS
HE’S FOLLOWING YOU
Honey stared at the wobbling block capitals, then at Rufus.
“You know,” she breathed.
Rufus nodded.
“Does anyone else? Finley, or Archie, or the girls?”
Firm, certain head shake.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
He blinked at her, as though that should be obvious. Turning, he looked at the woodshed where they’d first met, then back at her.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “And I’m sorry. I know how hard it is, having to keep a secret.”
Rufus’s expressions were always hard to read, but she thought he looked a little wry at that. He shrugged, as if it had been no big deal. She wondered how many other secrets might be locked away behind his observant golden eyes and still tongue.
She opened her mouth to say that she’d never wanted to burden him with her problems, but Rufus shook his head again. He tapped the note he’d given her. His meaning was clear: Focus on the most important issue.
She glanced down at the last line, and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Is he watching now?”
Rufus shook his head, though not quite as emphatically as before. His mouth pursed, struggling to form words. After a moment, he gave up. Instead, he made a vague, circling gesture, indicating the camp in general.
That meant Ignatius was somewhere nearby, she guessed. Watching to see if she headed for the woods, like she’d promised. He must have manipulated the other kids into asking her to shift, to see what she’d do.
“Thanks, Rufus,” she said, and got a slight, shy smile in reply. She handed him back the note. “You should go back to your cabin. Don’t worry about me.”
Rufus padded off, as silent on two feet as he was on four. Honey headed in the opposite direction, heart pounding at how close she’d come to disaster. If she’d left the camp as she’d planned, it would have been as good as a confession.
There were no lamps beyond the cabins, but the moon was bright enough to light her way.
She strained her ears as she walked, listening for any hint of movement behind her, but the camp lay still and silent.
Most of the other staff were on duty tonight, and she’d seen the few who weren’t heading down to the waterfront after dinner for some kind of party.
She could only hope that they decided to stay there.
The woods looked a lot less welcoming in the dark. Honey gulped, wishing that she had shifter eyesight. Still, she knew the area around the camp by now, thanks to Buck. Surely she couldn’t get that lost.
It’ll be fine, she tried to tell herself . I just have to head down one of the trails, and go far enough to lose Ignatius. He’ll never know that I didn’t actually shift.
Except he would, she realized with a lurch. There was a flaw in her plan. One thing that would be a dead giveaway…
Her gaze fell on a nearby building, right next to the trail head. There were a few of them scattered around the camp; simple, open-fronted sheds partitioned into individual private cubicles, with curtains across the front. Counselors jokingly called them the changing rooms.
Not all the counselors needed to use them, of course. Mythic shifters like Rufus or Beth didn’t. But she’d let the kids think that she was a wolf. Just a plain, ordinary wolf.
Honey hesitated, but there was no way around it. With a grimace, she went into a cubicle, drawing the curtain behind her.
Well, she thought as she pulled her t-shirt over her head. At least it’s a warm night.