The water laps around me gently and I sigh in relaxation. After the bank robbery and getting fired, driving down to the lake was exactly what I needed. No matter what’s going on in my life, the water always calms me.
I close my eyes and submerge myself completely for a few moments. Blackmuck Lake might have a terrible name, but the fresh water and the quiet location are perfect for decompressing. During the day, there’s a nice view of the mountains and the trees to give the perfect amount of privacy, and usually, this place is only known to the locals.
As soon as I break the water again and take in a deep breath, I’m startled out of my thoughts.
“Aren’t you cold in there?”
I turn my head at the sudden voice and see a dark-skinned guy standing at the edge of the lake. I can’t see very well at night, not compared to most shifters, but I can tell from his silhouette that he’s packing some serious muscles.
“Nope,” I answer.
He bends down and flicks his hand in the water and makes a face as he wipes it off on his pant leg. “It’s definitely not warm,” he says, as if the temperature personally offends him.
I snort. “It’s a lake, not a jacuzzi.”
“I have no idea how your teeth aren’t chattering,” he says, and damn, his voice is all low and sexy.
“I guess only the strongest can handle it.”
He chuckles, and the sound sends a thrill through me. I start wading closer to him so that I can get a better look. When I’m within a few feet of him, my nose tells me what I’d already figured. He’s a shifter. He points his own nose up in the air too, obviously picking up that I’m a shifter as well. When he catches the scent, for a moment, I see his eyes flash, even in the dark, and I wonder what kind of animal lives inside of him.
He crouches down on the balls of his feet and lets his hand swipe through the water again, like he’s trying to see how long it’ll take for the temperature to not bother him. Hopefully he’s a good dude. If it turns out he has nefarious plans for me, then I’ll have to go all badass on him and pull him into the lake. Clearly, his type of shifter doesn’t appreciate large bodies of water, so I could probably hop out and make a run for the campsite on the other side of the water.
I swim nearer, and he rests his hands on his bent knees from the spot where he’s positioned. Under the moonlight, I can see his eyes tracking my movement and studying my features. “Most shifters don’t like the water,” he says as my feet hit the rocky sand and I start moving forward.
That’s not exactly true. What he means is, most warm-blooded predator shifters don’t like water. But I’m sure that’s the only kind of shifters he thinks about. I shrug a shoulder and skim the water against my palms. “I’m not like most shifters.”
A slow smile spreads across his face and his perfect teeth practically glow in the dark. “I’m Herrick. You must be in Pack Rockhead,” he wrongly assumes. I don’t correct him.
If he thinks I’m from that pack, then he must not be a part of it. Which means he’s another newcomer, just like Mr. Millionaire Hotshot Coyote, Penn Weiss. My guess is that Herrick is one of the “buddies” that Penn mentioned.
“It’s gonna rain soon,” Herrick says, looking up just as the clouds start to thunder above us.
“You don’t like lakes or rain?” I tease. “Do you hate showers, too? Are you like those miserable cats when they accidentally fall into the bathtub?”
He crosses his arms and flashes a grin. “I have no problem with a wet pussy.”
I snort and swallow a laugh. “After all your anti-wetness talk, I don’t have a lot of confidence in you,” I say wryly.
As I continue wading to shore, I watch as he scoops water up in his palm and then tips his hand over to let it leak back out. Some of the water escapes his palm and slowly drips down his forearm, dripping off his bare elbow. I have no idea why, but watching it trickle down his skin is oddly erotic.
Most shifters are well-defined naturally, but Herrick is ripped with muscles, and I ogle his bicep a bit longer than I probably should. When he dips his