Until today, I haven’t even felt the urge to shift back to man form. I’ve nearly forgotten about this other form I can be. It feels strange, like I need time to adjust after so long. Like my memories are sliding back slowly. Uncle once said if a wolf didn’t shift for a long enough period, he’d forget everything he knew as man, forget how to shift. And if he didn’t shift from man to wolf, his wolf would become a danger to all. He told me there was a balance to maintain. And when he died, I didn’t follow his words. I did what I wanted instead.
I was tired of his words. Of his warnings. Of the times when he made no sense, especially when he smelled like whisky.
Her panic levels are giving me an ache I can’t stand.
“Settle down, Ivy.” I scoop her against my chest and my temperature rises to provide warmth for her.
Her eyes are wild with fear and the predator in me wants to take her to the ground and devour her body, though with mouth, tongue, fingers, and cock instead of tearing at her with my teeth. The stronger part of me wants to calm and settle her.
“The boyfriend?” I smelled five different males. “Is that who you’re calling for?”
I want to rip his throat out. I want to rip all their throats out. I can tell by their scents that they’re weak. None are worthy opponents. None are worthy of her. I also smell the female that was with her earlier. Three of the five have the scent of that female on them. One that was with my Ivy. The other woman reeks of all that seed. There’s nothing appetizing about her scent underneath it.
Ivy doesn’t answer me.
“Forget him,” I say.
The fire and those filthy scents shrink off into the distance as we keep moving.
She slumps in defeat in my arms with a whimper.
Will she miss the boyfriend? Does she love him? This makes a funny sensation poke in my chest cavity. I shake it off. It doesn’t matter; I’m keeping her. He can find another female. I know I’d win her in a fight if some male was stupid enough to challenge me. I don’t smell another male on her, only knew that one was near her when I caught her scent. She hasn’t been touched in a while. I smell no male’s seed on her at all. This pleases me and tells me even more that the boyfriend doesn’t matter. Now that she’s mine, she will always smell like she’s just been fucked.
5
Ivy
I’m in the arms of a naked man who’s running with me, taking me to his home.
I squirm harder and manage to slide halfway out of his arms.
“Ivy Brennan,” he admonishes and secures me better.
And now I’m back over his shoulder like a flour sack while he runs faster. I’m flopping and seeing nothing but the blurry ground. I scream over and over until I’m hoarse, praying someone will come to my aid and it seems to make him run faster. I grab for his waist, and there are no clothes, so my hands just grasp at wet, hot skin and because it’s also naked skin, I let go the minute I touch him.
Blurry ground and bare butt.
God… how does he run this fast in the cold rain like this? Carrying me and my stuff, and… we’re running downhill now and he’s running even faster. Barefoot! I feel like I’m about to barf at the motion.
***
I continue to wrack my brain thinking about how I’ll get away from this guy and make it back to the cabin of ill-repute (can’t even believe that seems like a safe haven right now), but we’ve gone through dense bush and changed directions several times, not to mention I’ve stared at moving ground most of the journey so there’s no way I’ll remember my way back. Finally, he slows and pulls me off his shoulder back into an embrace and I’m dizzy but make out that we’re approaching a darkened building. The way the moon shines over it makes it seem like it’s spotlighting the place, showing it to me. I’m cold. And I’m shivering at the eeriness of all of this. I also shiver at strange sensations inside me as I look around.
It’s got a big front porch and the cabin is covered in a combination of cedar shake tiles and stone. I’m set on my feet while he climbs under the front step and returns a beat later with a key.
It’s again raining, though not as hard, and he is turning the key on the door of the single-story cabin that looks like it comes right out of a storybook. Like Hansel and Gretel would’ve stumbled upon it during their walk in the woods. It doesn’t look like it’s made of candy, really, but with the stonework, the old-fashioned shape, the high-peaked tiled roof bordered with gingerbread trim, it’s almost romantic-looking.