Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Is this the true curse? Love and loss? Perpetual grief? It wasn’t supposed to be this way. He was supposed to stay until my dying day.
—Lorinne Leroux’s private journal.
Westley knew better than to force himself on Winter. Earning her trust would take time, patience, and respect. He would never get there by grabbing and demanding.
The fact that she still wanted to shift with him was a little concerning. She should run away instead, leave him alone to languish in her absence.
“Ready,” she called.
He spun around. Winter stood among a sea of white, wrapped in his blanket. She was nude beneath it. No armor. No clothing. Bare. He froze like a deer mid-chew. His jaw never functioned properly around her.
“Aren’t you shifting with me?” she asked, eyeing his clothing.
“I should teach you some things first.”
“Right,” she said, stomping her foot. “Like how to shift back. What the fuck, West? I was stuck like a wolf-centaur for three days.”
“Three days?”
“Yeah, it was … embarrassing.”
He scratched his head. “Shifting into your human form is usually easier, I don’t—”
“I’m a mage, remember?”
He tilted his head. “Are you?”
“Stop speaking.”
“I thought I was teaching you how to shift back?”
Her nostrils flared. “I don’t mean literally!”
Winter didn’t require her alpha voice to compel him, her regular one worked well. “Aside from relaxing your muscles and trying to make space in your joints, you need to envision the change. It’s similar to looking ahead while you’re walking—looking down won’t lead you where you need to go, right?”
She nodded.
“When you shifted the first time, you had to think about what ears, fangs, and all of that would feel and look like. That’s the will of the wolf and it’s inside you. For shifting back, it’s the opposite. You’ll have to remember what it’s like to be human again.”
She hugged herself with the blanket. “But I’m not a human.”
“Not completely, but a small part of you is, and that’s the part that bends. Humans are more resilient than we give them credit for.”
She looked into the forest, as if searching for something, then her eyes wandered back to his. “How do I remember what it’s like to be human?”
It was no wonder it took her days to shift back. He sighed, tapping his chest. “You have to feel something. A good memory, a bad one. Anything. As long as it makes your heart swell.”
“Feel?”
“Yes, Winter. Feel. You can’t always pretend. It’s the same reason shifting into a wolf requires you to believe you are one. You accepted it that night. You cried in my arms. It’s natural to give in and feel things.”
“I—I thought this was a running lesson, not counseling.”
“I didn’t realize how much work we needed to do.”
She glared at him.
His lip twitched. “Alright. Take off your boots, let’s shift.” Dreams weren’t enough, he needed to see her wolf form again. The little devil on his shoulder shouted in his ear. Beg her if you must!
West had said shift like it was an easy thing to do. Wiggling her ears and nose helped, but it took concerted effort. She was tense. Every massage therapist she’d ever been to had always said the same thing: relax.
First she rubbed and tugged her ears. It was way too cold, and they needed good blood flow.
Then she opened and closed her mouth, giving the joints around her ears some space.
She only had a few seconds before she’d start tensing up again, so her shift would have to happen in bursts.
Relaxing was an art form she’d not yet mastered, and it showed.
“When does this get easier?”
“You’ve only shifted twice, right?”
She nodded.
“Like all forms of magic, it requires practice.”
How wise.
She closed her eyes, envisioning her ears migrating towards the top of her head.
Her skin stretched and tingled in response.
The area around her lips tightened, making her want to shake her head to release the tension—like snapping a rope.
She listened to her body and rapidly rocked her head side to side, forward and back.
It might’ve spun around, but then her ears popped out.
The forest’s melody struck her first: the whooshing wind, rattling branches, and chirping birds.
It made her grin. Shifting wasn’t just about relaxing, she realized, it was about letting go and leaning into her wolf side.
It reminded her of tumbling and the power of trusting herself—the best things had happened when she embraced the unknown.
She would have never landed her first back handspring if she’d been afraid to fall.
Lacking faith in herself would have to stop eventually. She was powerful. Strong. Maybe even noble. Had fear been the limiting factor all along?
She stepped to the edge of the lake, dropped the blanket, and kicked it aside. The sun was sure shining, but a full moon rose for West. She glanced back to see his eyes peeled wide. “One last treat.”
No words escaped his parted lips.
The wind blew around her in circles, picking up snow. It formed a shield to give her privacy, then dangled a yellow ribbon in front of her eyes. It looked like one of Prudence’s.
“Have you been pilfering?” she asked.
The wind didn’t reply, it whipped around her hair. Her locks defied gravity as they swirled upward. An airy appendage materialized, looping the ribbon around the crown of her head, and tying it off in a tight bow.
“Thanks,” she murmured, trying not to freak out about the perfect ponytail between her wolf ears.
The wind spun away, but not before blowing her a message. The only thing stopping her from doing this was herself.
Winter slurped some air and ran.
Sun exposure had hardened the top few layers of snow.
This wasn’t a lake anymore, it was her university’s gymnasium.
After a few yards, she lifted her arms and wiggled her fingers.
West probably thought she was performing a witch ritual, but this was more of a mortal thing.
She leapt for momentum, slapped her palms in the snow, and launched her legs to the sky.
She twisted mid-air and landed with her feet together, facing West.
Her eyes landed on him for a heartbeat, noticing he looked rather pale.
Arms forward, she launched her body back, bending like a bridge. When her palms landed behind her, she sprang into a flip. Then another. And another. She’d practiced her roundoff quadruple back handspring for years. The first three went swimmingly, but the fourth felt different.
Power sliced through her.
The pain from her molding joints was overcome by drive.
Her body changed into something foreign yet familiar—a full-fledged werewolf with sharp-ass claws.
Winter landed on all fours, her gigantic paw raking through layers of ice.
She inhaled the woodsy smells surrounding the lake—pine, juniper, and doe blood—then howled.
Winter wasn’t an alien, she was a circus freak.
One moment Westley was in a world blanketed by snow, and the next he was beneath an oversized red-and-white-striped tent.
This particular performance was for an adult-only audience because the acrobat was flipping around in the nude.
Revealing her wolf form in that manner would surely earn her a pretty penny if she decided to tour the country and show off her talents.
Westley had seen many werewolves learn how to shift before. Some struggled, some didn’t. But he’d never witnessed anything like that. Winter had taken her tricks to a different stage today, dizzying him in the process. He’d counted about four or five flips before she transitioned.
Any cloud remaining in the sky had vanished. Her light brown fur demanded all the sun, soaking up every ray. It made her ears, somehow made of gold, sparkle like the flecks in her eyes. It was remarkable how stunning she was. He blinked, seeing stars in the light of day.
Her howl ignited a spark to his dying flame. He yanked his cloak off, not bothering to pile it neatly. His boots and the rest of his clothing quickly followed.
Shifting wasn’t as simple as he’d thought it would be. For weeks, he’d given all the power up to whiskey, forgetting his own. His muscles only had memories to cling to. The pain buzzing along each molding joint was the reminder he needed—he was a wolf.
Change had always been a part of his design. Without it, there’d be no growth. If he needed any help remembering that, all he had to do was look at her—waiting for him. Winter had come so far.
He’d be damned if he took this time for granted.
Seconds later, Westley was coated in fur and sprinting across the lake.