completely finished, he took a few steps and paused. In a world where scent ruled, at first the wolf was confused. These people smelled nothing like Pack or humans, but still their scents enticed.
With what little bit of human self-control he had left, Ruben forced the beast to leave the encampment and travel deep into the forest to hunt.
Filtered through the eyes of his beast, Ruben took great pleasure in the hunt. Since the Sidhe, or at least the Brights, were all apparently vegetarians, the forest was full of plump game. He caught a rabbit and a pheasant and devoured them both, glorying in his power and the renewed strength the meat-based protein brought.
Finally sated, he roamed the woods, thrilling to the feel of the damp and fertile earth under all four of his powerful paws.
He ran, just for the pleasure of it, enjoying the way the lesser animals scattered in blind panic as he approached. Tearing through the forest, heedless of the noise he made, he circled around the encampment, always staying within a mile, just in case anyone needed him.
Finally exhausted, he slowed to a walk, then let his familiar furry body sink to the forest floor, panting. He lay in the undergrowth, loving life, happy for the first time he could remember.
He hadn’t been truly happy—alive, in the moment—since the last time he’d been wolf. Other than, some part of him whispered, when he’d kissed Willow. Immediately, he shoved the thought away.
The human part of him, still sentient, though relegated to only a small part of the wolf’s brain, knew he eventually would have to shift back to human. He knew also that the wolf would fight this and the battle would be tremendous.
But to remain wolf—as his soul longed to do—was to become mad. Feral. He’d heard stories of Ferals flinging themselves from cliffs or dashing in front of semi-trucks, all in a bid to escape madness.
However tempting remaining wolf might seem, the short life of a Feral was not a fate he wished for himself.
Gradually, the moon sank lower, vanishing behind the treetops on its trip toward the horizon. Ruben-as-wolf finally pushed to his feet and Ruben-the-man made the first attempt to force the change.
As expected, the wolf resisted.
Thrashing, biting at an external enemy that only existed within, anyone watching would have guessed the animal mad. In a way, there was a kernel of truth; the wolf’s desire to remain in corporeal shape hovered right at the precipice of insanity.
And the man knew he had to win, at all costs, at any cost.
The horizon flushed pink as the darkness lightened. Still Ruben and the wolf fought its solitary/dual battle, rolling and snapping, growling and biting at an unseen enemy as well as itself.
Any other time he would have sensed her. Any other time, the soft sound of her footsteps on the carpet of leaves wouldn’t have been silent enough. He would have detected her scent, which he’d always recognize as individually hers, long before she reached him.
Instead, preoccupied with the battle to change/not to change, Willow was nearly on top of him before he realized. Apparently unafraid, she reached out to him and stroked his fur.
The wolf’s first impulse was to snap. With a supreme effort of will, Ruben kept the beast from biting her.
Willow, crooning softly, reaching out to gather the crazed animal close to her breast.
Ruben thought his heart would stop beating. Even the wolf, now uncertain, confused, held its breath.
As she caressed his fur, the animal began to relax. Though he didn’t want to shock her, Ruben seized this moment and initiated the change back to human. Taken by surprise, the wolf couldn’t muster enough strength to fight.
Ruben became man again, right there in Willow’s arms.
One thing all Shifters knew was that the moment they changed back to flesh, adrenaline blazed through the veins like lightning. The human body reacted with instant arousal. This would become glaringly obvious the instant the change was finished.
As the animal changed shape with her soft hands still buried in its fur, Willow let out a soft cry. To her credit, she didn’t try to jump up or dislodge the beast rapidly shifting from wolf to man.
“Ruben?” she asked, sounding uncertain but markedly unafraid.
At first he could not speak; still locked within the throes of the change, he could only growl.
As his bones settled back into place and the fur disappeared, he tried again to force words past his still evolving throat.