Fated Magic (Claimed by Wolves 1)

We stare at one another for so long that I feel like I’m going to drown in his eyes. When his gaze drops to my lips, my stomach flutters, and the warmth inside me unfurls further.

He brushes his thumb over the line of my jaw, making every nerve ending in my body sing. A sound escapes me, and I sway toward him a fraction of an inch, lost in him.

Entranced by him.

Drowning in the strange connection I can neither understand nor deny.

“I’m so glad I found you that night, Sable,” Ridge murmurs. “I wish I’d found you long before then.”

I think I know what he means, even without him saying it. He wishes he’d known me long enough to keep the bad things in my life from hurting me. To keep me safe.

I could tell him that he would’ve had to have met me when I was a child for that to be possible, but I don’t want to ruin the sweetness of this moment. I don’t want him to stop looking at me the way he is, with hunger and tenderness all rolled into one.

My body shifts toward him a little more, and Ridge mirrors the movement, closing the space between us…

The front door bangs open.

I jolt, leaping nearly half a foot off the couch as I flash back to the day Lawson and his cronies burst into this same room. Luckily, no raging bullies enter. Just Trystan and Archer, who I think aren’t bullies. At least, I hope they don’t turn out to be, though I guess right now anything is possible.

Trystan pauses just inside the door, his gaze hardening as he surveys the scene they just walked in on—Ridge and me sitting so close together we’re sharing the same air, with his hand still touching my face.

“Are we interrupting?” Trystan drawls, his voice dark. Archer peers over his shoulder at us, and a muscle tenses in his jaw.

I quickly scoot away from Ridge before this turns into a dog fight. I’ve built a kind of… friendship, I guess, with Ridge. But I can’t forget that these other two shifters are absolutely certain I’m their mate. I really don’t want to have to referee three territorial men. I’m not equipped for that level of violence.

Ridge unfolds from the couch, turning back into the imposing shifter I’ve come to recognize.

“No. You aren’t interrupting.” He snatches a pack off the floor near Trystan’s feet. “Grab a bag,” he adds, then shoves past the two wolves on his way out the front door.

Trystan glares after him while Archer grabs the other bag. Then they both turn to me and wait, watching as I pick up the smaller pack with my hand-me-downs from Ridge’s maybe girlfriend. I hike it higher on my shoulder and skirt past them out the door, giving myself a wide berth from their imposing presences.

Ridge is in the front yard waiting in just his boxer shorts, jamming his shirt and pants into his satchel as I appear. My steps falter on the front walk as my gaze roams over the play of muscles across his back.

He glances over his shoulder, giving me a view of his profile in the evening sunlight. “It’s a hike to the cabin. We’ll have to shift and run to make it by nightfall. Since you can’t shift yet, you’re going to have to ride me.”

“R-ride you?” I gape at him. Surely that’s not what he just said.

Ridge grins wolfishly and turns around to face me. His front is even more delicious than his back, and my mouth goes dry as I try to swallow. “Don’t worry. It’s like riding a bike.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

He laughs, seeming amused by my sassy reply. I blink, caught off guard a little. Uncle Clint never found it the least bit amusing when I talked back to him.

As Trystan and Archer join us, shedding their own clothes, Ridge’s body begins to shudder and change. I see it now that Archer has told me—how the shift is powered by magic. For a moment, Ridge’s body seems to be swallowed up by blackness, and then in the next moment, he’s standing on four furry legs with his boxer shorts in pieces at his feet.

The change steals over my other two companions next. I clutch the strap of my satchel, gripping the leather tightly as I try to resist the urge to rub my eyes in cartoonish disbelief. I’ve seen this once before, in Ridge’s living room, but I was caught so off-guard then that I barely processed it. Observing the change when I’m in a more coherent state of mind leaves me nearly breathless with wonder.

The shift only lasts a few seconds before I’m facing three of the largest creatures I’ve ever seen.

Ridge’s fur is a light brown, almost auburn in the dying sunlight, with his belly and legs a lighter tan. His eyes are still the same honey color, and I recognize a sharp, human intelligence behind them—which means they don’t fully lose themselves in the transformation. Trystan is slightly taller than Ridge with deep chocolate brown fur all over and turquoise eyes, while Archer’s wolf has golden fur on his back and a white underside. Like the others, his green eyes are still the same, and they even look compassionate as he cocks his head at me, sensing my roiling emotions.

As Trystan and Archer nudge through the straps on their packs and manipulate the bags onto their backs, I cross to Ridge and try not to give in to my fear.

When I stand before him, his head reaches past my shoulders, even with him on four legs and me on two. He’s the size of a small pony, powerfully built and rippling with muscle beneath his thick fur. I put a hand on his side and trail my fingers over him, surprised by how wiry and scruffy his fur is, when he looks so soft.

It takes a couple tries, and some kneeling on his part, for me to scramble onto his broad shoulders. My own bag on my back throws me off until I get it settled directly behind me and find my balance on Ridge’s body. He snuffs at me, tossing me a gaze over his shoulder. Apparently, we won’t be able to talk while he’s in wolf form.

“I’m ready,” I tell him, my heart thudding hard in my chest.