And then, his voice sneaks inside my head, playfully threatening. “Noah, you’d better run faster. Because I’m about to catch you. And when I do…”
I bolt before he can finish his thought, my muscles bunching and releasing as excitement zings down my spine all the way to the tip of my tail. Pulling ahead, probably because he lets me, I widen the gap as I laugh again and embrace a profound sense of release.
It’s as though all my problems—all the worry, fear, and uncertainty I’ve been feeling for so long—slip from my shoulders and fall completely off.
Shifting is the best feeling in the universe. Because I don’t think about my existence. I just exist.
Snow starts to drift lazily down from the clouds, big fat flakes floating through the air and landing on the leaf-splattered ground, speckling my vision. There’s an aggression to the cold front that’s quickly moving in. It carries a distinct warning, one that’s building in the air and whipping around in the wind. I welcome it. My new shifter body is running feverishly hot from all of this exertion, and the slowly dropping temperature is more a soothing balm and less a deterrent.
The thrill of the chase practically sings in my blood, and I push this body to new heights, leaving Perth even farther behind.
Take that!
I start to consider ways I could circle back and surprise attack him when I hear the distinct burble of a small stream.
Water, my mind clamors to satisfy a sudden overwhelming need. I change directions, heading toward it. Rushing, I do my best to keep my lead. If I’m fast, I could still try to stalk Perth. I quickly tamp down my thoughts, not wanting to accidentally mindspeak or project my plan and give myself away.
I spot the gleaming little creek ahead. It’s no bigger than the width of a car and no more than half a foot deep. I could easily clear it in half a leap. There are a few large boulders that have rolled into its path, but the stream just happily flows around them. The water is clean, clear, and cold as I sample a few laps.
Damn. This is messy.
My entire muzzle gets soaked. I hurry to clean up the mess with my tongue as I search for the perfect hiding spot. Perth can’t be too far off, and this could prove to be a perfect place to ambush him.
There.
I rush to an overhang where a bush with bright waxy leaves can serve as my cover. I crouch down beside it, surprised to see that a small blanket of snow is already coating the ground. The flakes are falling faster and thicker than I expected they would, almost like they’re in a hurry to help me cover my tracks.
When I glance up at the sky, all I can see is fluttering bits of white. But my attention is drawn back to my plan when Perth’s playful voice sneaks into my head.
“Where are you, Noah? Come out, come out wherever you are. I’m going to catch you…”
Anticipation curls my claws, because I sort of want him to, but not quite yet. I have this note of need humming through me to push him, to see what he’s made of, to test his worth on some shifter scale I don’t logically understand but seems important to my wolf side.
I think this is what the Hunt is supposed to feel like. Ellery tried to explain that to me, but I didn’t get it until now, and I’m not sure what to make of that.
How different would the Hunt have been if I was eager for the chase instead of terrified? If I’d known I was a shifter, would I be mated already? Would I have chosen this den as quickly as they chose me?
Maybe.
Movement catches my eye and I turn my head, abandoning my confusing thoughts. There’s a familiar figure traipsing through the woods, walking slowly, nose to the ground. He’s the wolf that bit me. The wolf that trotted out of the woods the other night, shifting into a man who kissed me so thoroughly I almost forgot what a tool he is. Gannon. I’d recognize his beast anywhere. He moves lightly, carefully, eyes scanning.
I pull in his scent as he moves closer to the stream, and it’s as though my nose calls up a contact list and all of Gannon’s information is immediately registered with one quick sniff. There’s a nuance to his scent right now, something I wouldn’t have been able to identify on two legs like I can on four. The aroma plays in my mind like a low, lonely piano note.
He’s uncertain, hesitant.
He sniffs at the air, stopping at the exact point by the stream where I took a quick drink, and looks around.
Is he tracking me? I thought he was running the perimeter.
I watch him search the soft veil of snow on the ground for paw prints, and I can’t decide if I want to hide from him or do something to make him stop reeking of doubt.
Things between us have been strained since I didn’t scoop up his snow globe. He’s been quieter. Present, but nearly silent. It’s like he wants to get in on the fun, he wants to engage, but he’s not sure if he should. Or maybe the angst wafting off of him is because he’s not sure if he’d be welcome.
Fuck.
I watch him a little longer. The more I do, the more certain I am that I’m right. My wolfed-out bits really dislike the odor of apprehension overpowering his otherwise clean and slightly spicy scent.
Before I know it, I’m uncurling from my attack position and leaping for Gannon, my plan for Perth forgotten. Barreling straight into Gannon’s chest, I cause the pair of us to roll across the snowy ground and fall into an unseemly heap with me on top.
He blinks up at me.
I sense his hesitation, and I dislike it even more than his disquiet. It feels wrong.
Without questioning what the hell I’m doing, I nip playfully at his nose, wanting to snap him out of it. I’m not in the mood for any of the human complications that envelop our relationship.
Gannon and I need to have it out. He’s in desperate need of a lesson on manners and boundaries, but not right now. I’m not ready or willing to abandon the happiness and freedom of my first shift to make room for anyone’s baggage—especially not his.
I just want to play.
I vault off of him and prance around in the snow, leaving paw print impressions in the soft covering as I jump from side to side, waiting to see what the sable grump will do.
Will he meet me where I’m at in this flurry of excitement and instinct, or will he drag me down and ruin it?
Gannon doesn’t speak to me or project the debate I see flash inside his bright gray eyes. Snow falls on his face, dappling the doubt that collects there for a moment before a snort erupts from his muzzle. He leaps to his feet faster than I can track. Then he snaps his teeth at me like he’s testing the playful waters.
It’s my signal to run.
I don’t know how I know that, but I do, and I give in to the driving need until I’m once again a flash of fur amidst the trees.
Gannon’s bounding steps are loud and determined behind me, and I hear Perth not far behind him. My instincts and excitement push me even faster. I can feel their eager tenacity through the thin bond connecting us, a bond that felt overwhelming and daunting just days ago.
Today, everything feels…different.