Fated Magic (Claimed by Wolves #1) - Callie Rose Page 0,58

water is probably runoff from higher up in the mountains, so it’s just this side of freezing despite the warmth in the early spring air. It’s crystal clear and has that crisp scent I love though, so I hold out as long as I can before my numb toes force me back onto land.

The men seem to take their cue from me, and as soon as I leave the water, they follow after me.

Dare gives a mighty shake, sending water spraying in all directions as his damp fur puffs out from his body. I laugh, holding up a hand to shield myself as the others all shake off too. When magic shimmers over their bodies, I suddenly take a great interest in the birds flitting among the branches above us—although I’d be lying if I said my gaze didn’t slip back downward once or twice, catching on broad shoulders, thick thighs, and perfectly sculpted muscles.

After the men are all dressed again, we walk a little farther around the pond.

I find myself hiking next to Dare, and I can’t stop myself from shooting little glances his way. I’m so curious about him, and I have dozens of questions I’m dying to ask. But even though I told the men my sad life story this morning, I’m hesitant to ask him about his.

I know the basics already—witches attacked his entire pack and sent the survivors scattering to the wind. Asking for more details feels a little like slowing down and gawking at the scene of an accident or something. I don’t want to make him dredge up horrible memories just to satisfy my own morbid curiosity.

So when he catches me glancing at him for the third time, I blurt out the first question I can think of that doesn’t have to do with the decimation of his pack.

“Does it hurt?”

His brows furrow. “What?”

God, Sable. Be more awkward. Please.

I take a breath, then speak at a more normal speed. “The shift. When you turn from a man into a wolf or back. Does it hurt?”

His dark brown eyes focus on me, and I remember what they looked like last night in the moonlight, deep and mysterious. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to look at him and not think of that moment. It feels like it’s still imprinted on my skin, on my soul.

“Nah, it doesn’t hurt.” His gruff voice drags me from my thoughts. “Most of us start shifting when we’re just cubs, so it might be a bit different for you. But it’s not like being ripped apart and reformed. The magic washes through you and then it’s done. It feels good in a way, like meeting your other half. Your better half.”

His expression softens a little, and I wonder if he thinks his wolf is his better half. Do all shifters feel that way?

“That sounds… nice,” I admit.

And it does. I was terrified by the idea that I might not be entirely human at first, but the idea isn’t nearly as frightening as it once was.

What would I be like as a wolf? Would I be stronger than I am as a human? More confident? Would I trust my instincts more?

Maybe Dare can see the wistfulness in my eyes, because he gives a soft snort. “I said better, not perfect. Wolves have good instincts, but we can make mistakes just like anyone.”

For a second, I think maybe he’s talking about the mate bond, and how four different shifters have somehow claimed that bond with me. But when I look up at him again, his features are hard, his gaze unfocused—and I realize he’s thinking of something else entirely.

He’s thinking of the thing I promised myself I wouldn’t ask about.

“I’m sorry. About your pack.”

The words come out before I can stop them. I press my lips together like that’ll keep me from blurting out anything else as Dare’s body goes stiff beside mine. We’re walking close enough to each other that I can feel the change in him immediately, and my own body reacts to the tension in his.

“Thank you.”

His voice is low and rough, and he doesn’t meet my eyes as he speaks. I can’t tell if I made anything better or just made everything worse. The overwhelming urge to reach out to him rises up in me, making my fingers itch to thread through his. I want to hold his hand or wrap my arms around his waist, and this impulse has nothing to do with the scorching