15. Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Fifteen
EMILY
The wind howls outside my window. I stare out at the snow-covered grounds, watching the flurries as they coat the redwood trees.
Frost etches delicate patterns along the edge of the window, but I don’t feel the cold.
Not tonight. Tonight, I’m burning up from the inside out.
Something prowls beneath my skin, agitated and anxious and wild.
It wants out. It wants to be free.
My skin itches and ripples as the moon peeks out from behind the clouds for a split second, and a howl pierces my ears. Not a howl from the unfortunate warriors running patrols in the snow, but one from within—from my mind.
My wolf.
I don’t think. I don’t plan. My feet carry me out of my apartment before I can consider if it’s even safe to go out in this weather. Because my wolf doesn’t care. She’s in charge of my actions right now, and she wants out.
Outside. Free. No longer weak, but strong.
Before I know it, I’m at the forest’s edge, leaving a trail of footsteps behind me for anyone to follow.
They’re deeper than they normally would be, as if my wolf is ensuring they’ll stay visible longer. As if she wants someone to follow.
I don’t dwell on that, on her desire for him to be with us.
Ever since that day I finally saw her in my mind, she’s pushed forward more and more, especially when he has been around.
Her growing attachment to him will only hurt us both in the long run.
He’ll find his mate, and my wolf and I will be left grieving and broken as he makes her his luna—his world.
I can’t let my wolf’s attachment feed into my own.
The forest is dark—darker than normal. It’s the type of darkness that absorbs everything around it, where you can’t tell where it ends, where it feels like you’re part of the vast nothing.
There are no stars, no light, no warmth.
But I don’t need heat. I’m sweating, blood boiling as it pulses through me with every cacophonous beat of my heart.
My wolf guides me to the clearing, the one I failed to shift in a year ago, the same clearing I go to when I need to be alone so I can visualize her with no distractions.
Not that it matters. Harrison is always on my mind, distracting me even when he’s busy with his future alpha duties and doesn’t know I’m thinking about him.
Hopefully, he never finds out how often I think of him.
It doesn’t help that he’s always so kind to me, going out of his way to say hello and checking in with me whenever we spend time with Brad and Stephanie.
I’d avoid him more often if I could, but his best friend is in love with my best friend, and that coincidence brings us into proximity frequently.
The snow in the clearing’s center is unmarred by prints. I stay at the edge, afraid to ruin the pristine surface with my clumsy traipsing. Instead, I circle the space, keeping the trees to my right and the clearing to my left as I tread the circumference.
My pace is frantic and sporadic. Inconsistent.
Fast for a few steps, then normal, then as slow as someone trudging through thick mud.
Nothing hurts, but everything is uncomfortable.
The heightened senses I’ve acclimated to in the two years since switching packs sharpen further under the moonlight, my wolf lingering at the edge of my mind.
Cracking twigs. Crunching snow. Howls and growls. The sounds of the patrolling wolves filter through the forest from all the borders, loud enough that they seem to be right next to me despite being miles away.
My spine snaps and realigns. I lean against a tree, palm scraping against the bark as I grit my teeth. The pain is sharp, brief, and once it ends, another snap follows in its wake. Over and over, my bones crack and reassemble, bringing me to my knees.
My fingers curl into the snow, the freezing temperature a relief from my heated blood and the pain.
It shocks my system, making me gasp. My tense muscles release as I fall into the snow with a sigh, letting it cushion my body.
The scent of the woods—fresh-cut pine—grows stronger, and I latch on to it.
It weaves around and through me, entwining with my wolf’s spirit and deepening my relaxation.
Another exhale leaves me, my eyelids fluttering as I curl onto my side.
And that’s when I see him. Harrison, standing tall in his dark-brown lycan form, watching me intently from the trees, barely hidden by the branches. Admiration and pride shine in his eyes, and as I revel in it, the pain recedes.
“Harrison,” I say, but instead of my voice, instead of words, a soft yip soars across the clearing.
I don’t move a muscle, eyes wide, equal parts tempted and terrified to look down at myself. But Harrison’s lycan nods, and I lower my chin.
Pitch-black paws rest against the snow at the end of long, graceful legs. Flakes already dot my thick fur, like a dusting of powdered sugar on a dark chocolate brownie.
I rise to all fours on surprisingly steady paws and meet Harrison’s brown eyes once more before letting out a triumphant howl. He answers me, our chorus of excitement echoing across the pack grounds. The patrols answer back, concerned at first until Harrison mindlinks the pack.
“Emily finally shifted. I’ll be running through the eastern forest with her wolf.”
Before anyone can respond to him or congratulate me, I spin like a top and dart into the trees. Harrison chuckles deeply through mindlink—just to me—but he stays in the clearing.
I know what he’s doing. He’s giving me a head start. And I intend to take full advantage of it. He may be stronger and faster, but I’m small. I can fit into spaces he can’t.
I sprint, my wolf’s tongue hanging out the side of her mouth as she flattens her ears and lowers her neck to streamline herself. The urge to howl and yip with excitement and pleasure is overwhelming, but I hold it in for now. I don’t want Harrison to find me too easily.
His heavy footsteps thunder through the forest behind me. I duck through a juniper bush and head uphill until I come to a forked path. I veer to the left, deeper into the trees, instead of to the right where the path ends on an outcrop overlooking the lake.
But Harrison is already there, blocking the path. I yelp and whirl around, heading back the way we came. Back to the clearing.
Harrison stays close behind me the whole way back, a protective sentinel of my wolf.
His nearness calms me, like it always does.
My wolf peeks at him several times, and every time she does, he picks up speed a smidgen, showing off for her.
Perhaps unintentionally, but my wolf likes it, putting on her own burst of speed to match his.
When we near the clearing, I have a brief moment of panicked clarity. My clothes ripped during my shift, which means I have nothing to change into. I could stay in my wolf form, but if I do that, then I can’t properly thank Harrison for his help over the last two years.
Luckily, my concern is for nothing. There, atop my tattered pajamas, is Harrison’s shirt, left there by his lycan before he followed me on our run through the forest. I check to make sure he’s not looking—his back is turned to me—and then I shift and throw his shirt on over my bare skin.
The fabric is still warm somehow, and his scent is embedded into the fibers, making my wolf wag her tail in my head.
As soon as the garment hides my body, I sprint across the clearing. Harrison is yanking his sweats on, and I leap at him before he’s fully facing me. He catches me with a laugh, stumbling backwards a step as I throw my arms around his neck.
His body is even warmer than his shirt. His clean, masculine scent intoxicates me, filling my lungs with a power that’s as strong as his protective aura and rippling muscles.
We’re so close. Nose to nose. Breaths mixing. He doesn’t move away from me. He holds me against his chest, one arm around my shoulders and the other around my waist. My feet hover inches off the ground, and my heart thunders as, inch by inch, I bring my face closer to his.
And then my lips are on his. Harrison freezes at first, then growls, returning my kiss with an excitement I didn’t expect.
My toes meet the forest floor as he lowers me, his palm pressing into the small of my back.
I lean into Harrison, clinging to his neck for balance and giving him full control of the kiss.
His tongue swipes across my lips. Heat floods through me. I’m about to open my mouth for him when I realize—I’m kissing Harrison. The future alpha of Crescent Lake. The man who will take over this pack someday, with his luna at his side.
And the chances of that luna being me? Slim. Zero, even. I’m nothing. Nobody. I’m barely a proper werewolf. I’m someone who, until two years ago, believed I didn’t have a wolf and would never shift. I’ll never be his equal like a luna should be.
I tear myself away from him. “I am… I am so sorry.” And before he can say or do anything else, I run from the clearing and back to the packhouse.