Cold Blooded

I rubbed my arms absentmindedly. “You’re kind of freaking me out,” I admitted. “Should I be scared? And why don’t you have to change very often? I thought shifters needed the release—their bodies had to shift.”

 

 

He leaned down and planted a kiss on my forehead. “I don’t ever need to shift. Once you’re old enough, you gather power to yourself automatically and I’ve perfected it without shifting. I can’t do what you can do—and achieve a full suspended form—but I can reach my beast without a full change. It gives me more power than the average shifter, but it’s not like yours.” I’d seen him channel his beast when we’d fought the wolves, and then again with Selene. He was incredibly controlled. The only thing that had given him away both times had been the golden fur that had sprouted along his arms.

 

“How old is old enough?” I pressed, curiously.

 

He chuckled. “Old.”

 

Naomi’s words filtered through my mind. When we’d been on the road, she’d informed me there had been rumors Rourke was close to acquiring a godhood, which was the ultimate mix of power and immortality for a supernatural. You had to be old enough, powerful enough, and have a god or goddess as your patron. But it wasn’t something I felt comfortable asking yet. We hadn’t even consummated our relationship. Chatting about possible god-ness sounded too over the top, especially since he was shy about telling me what kind of cat he was.

 

I pushed it out of my mind for now. “Okay”—I looked around—“this is as good a spot as any. I’ll change here.” Without waiting, I reached down and grabbed the end of my shirt and pulled it over my head. Rourke stood watching me, and I grinned as I tossed it away. “You better get a move on, Big Boy. You don’t want to risk jumping me once I’m naked. Or I might just jump you, so you better leave while you still can.”

 

Reluctantly he turned and left. I shimmied out of my leggings and lay down completely naked in the cool grass. Summer was moving on and the nights were getting chilly, especially in the mountains. My nipples budded painfully and I forced myself to ignore how much they ached.

 

“Are you ready?” Rourke called from his spot. His voice sounded strained and I knew without a doubt he could see me and it was killing him.

 

I felt a little better. At least I wasn’t the only letch in town.

 

“Ready.” I switched control to my wolf on a thought.

 

The shift was smooth and effortless.

 

My body had become more accustomed to shifting with each change. The first time had been a train wreck. I’d fought it with everything I had, and it had been the worst thing I could’ve done. Now it felt natural and fluid. My back arched as my legs extended. Fur sprouted along my skin like a soft blanket.

 

The change took less than a minute.

 

Once I was finished, I blinked and glanced around. The night was clear. Everything was more detailed and easier to see in this form. We called our animal form our “true form” because it was our body’s most natural form. We hailed from humans, spent most of our time in a human form, but animals were our true nature. It felt unbelievably free to be in this body. This is what all shifters craved.

 

I lifted my muzzle to the sky, resisting the urge to howl. The darkness wasn’t absolute. Instead objects glowed around me in an amber haze, my eyes gathering light from everywhere so I could detect the smallest details. As I stood, I inhaled, raking air in over my sensitive tongue, tasting all the flavors of the night.

 

Then his scent hit me.

 

My wolf barked and our voice carried into the night sky. We were linked so closely in this form that control hung on a blink. My heart began to race as his musk engulfed us. I was in control now, but my wolf was agitated and a low growl escaped.

 

His scent was a thousand times stronger in his true form.

 

Cloves and rich molasses were intertwined with a kind of power that I didn’t understand. It didn’t feel godlike, like Selene’s had, but it was still incredibly strong. His smell calmed us, but his power frightened us. It sent currents of pressure into our body, warning us, urging us to flee. My wolf wanted to run. No, hold still. This is right. She whined and pushed herself into me, making us stagger. I know. I smell it, too, but he’s not going to hurt us. Focus on the signature, not on the power.

 

Rustling came from the bushes.

 

Rourke had finished his change even before we had, but he was letting us get used to him.

 

That may take longer than we had.

 

I opened my mouth and huffed into the air, telling him we were ready.

 

After a second, he stepped into view. One paw at a time until he stood only a few paces from us.

 

Oh, dear gods. What is he?

 

He lifted his tawny head to the sky and roared.

 

 

 

 

 

7

 

 

 

 

 

He took another step closer and stopped. Power surged off him in crisp waves and it was all I could do not to turn tail and run.