“Yes.” Nick passed the stockings he’d removed to a lodge employee and offered a polite smile. “Thank you. No need to leave my clothes downstairs. I’ll head directly to bed after our run. If you take my things to my room, you can enjoy an early night rather than waiting for me.”
Arit blinked. Tried and failed to remember any capitol shifter exhibiting such deference and courtesy to his staff before.
“Thanks.” The staff member beamed his gratitude.
Naked, Benjic repeated Nick’s kind offer to his own attendant.
“Suck up,” Arit said with a fierce scowl.
“Your pissy attitude won’t ruin this for me. I haven’t set foot or paw on this land in decades, territory that has been in my family for centuries. I gave up my rights to this place for you and your future, but securing your legacy doesn’t mean I haven’t missed home. I’m going to wallow in every minute.” Benjic laughed when Arit’s eyes narrowed on him and he turned to Arit’s dad. “He knew this land and the old tribal headquarters you remodeled into the lodge were mine, right? That I surrendered it to you in trust for him?”
“He chooses to ignore the fact you didn’t leave us destitute and instead provided the means to support our child. But yes, he knows.” Dad shrugged. “Go. Explore the improvements we made. Have fun. Dealing with our stubborn son will be waiting for you after.”
Annoyance spiking, Arit led the others to the French doors spilling from the hall to the rear patio. “This way.” He swung the doors wide, gratified to see his staff had already lit warming fires in platforms dotted around the patio. The gusting wind, frigid and familiar, sliced through him. He shivered as the tour group huddled on the natural stone. Born in the Urals, Arit had acclimated to the bitter winters, but the cold still caught his breath. He didn’t like to imagine how the storm must feel to tourists. “If you’d prefer to shift in privacy…” He waved to several changing closets separating the patio from an inground pool guests enjoyed in the summer season, but he’d ordered drained and covered weeks ago. “Or you can shift in the wild, as our ancestors did.”
“Ancestors?” Though his teeth chattered, Nick chuckled. “Gardens in all the palaces were equipped with changing closets for visitors, but the imperial family didn’t use them. I’ve never seen the inside of one and I don’t intend to start now.” Nick’s smile stretched wide, despite the cold and snowflakes sticking in his hair. He slapped his adopted brother on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”
“Wait!”
The crown prince hesitated, raising an eyebrow at Arit, who rocked his weight from foot to foot. “Your necklace.”
“What of it?”
“You need to take it off.” Arit gulped at the ferocious scowl Nick concentrated on him. “Wearing anything at your throat that could twist and choke you during a shift isn’t wise. It could snag on branches during your run, too.” Arit’s nerves skittered at Nick’s black glower at him. “Keeping jewelry on you during a shift is risky. Reckless.”
“The chain is flimsy and inexpensive. It’ll break before presenting any genuine danger to me and should I lose it during my run, my sense of smell is sharp enough to find and recover it later.” Lip curling to a sneer, Nick covered the locket with his hand. His glare challenged Arit or anyone else to argue. “The necklace stays.” Dropping his hand from the locket he was bizarrely attached to, enough to risk injury, Nick jerked his chin at his brother. “C’mon. The Urals await.”
Rolan shivered but gamely ran from the patio and into the untamed darkness, the crown prince at his side. Benjic frowned but hurried after them. The group split, half stumbling to the changing closets and the others following Nick into the rocky wilderness surrounding the lodge.
Arit didn’t bother waiting to shift. Why? His fur would insulate him from the cold, and he tolerated few insecurities about forcing the transition from man to wolf in front of an audience. He wouldn’t have gone far in his profession if he was shy about shifting. He shut his eyes and reached for his inner beast, welcoming and inviting the wolf forward. He barely felt the flat stones of the patio against him as he dropped to the ground. His bones snapped. Muscle reformed. Fur pushed through his skin to blanket him against the pelting snow. Shifting hurt, but even before Arit had made embracing shifter heritage his avocation, he’d spent a lot of time on four paws hunting and exploring the land his absent sire had deeded to him. Like any other skill, practice helped Arit become better at shifting. Faster. Instead of requiring a prolonged and agonizing period to complete the change from man to wolf like most of his clients, Arit could finish the process in under a minute.
When he rose from the flagstones, he was all wolf. Though his senses were more sensitive in his human form than non-shifters, that couldn’t compare to the wealth of sounds that met his ears nor the clarity of movement he could see with his wolf’s eyes despite the gently falling snow. Fleeing prey animals skittered in loose rocks, and the muted groans of customers still struggling through the transition to wolf echoed in Arit’s ears. A snowy owl high up in a tree that gusts had newly stripped of leaves turned its head to regard him warily. Arit was no stranger to the dark, but as he crept from the patio, familiarity nor his improved sight was necessary to find the guests who had spilled into the grounds. He caught the bountiful riches of their scents in his nostrils before he lifted his muzzle for a deeper sniff, surprise perking his ears when the unmistakable smell of a strange wolf lingered in the crisp air. At least one in the tour group had completed the shift to wolf as readily and rapidly as Arit had.
Perhaps Rolan, the prince’s adopted brother. He had a raw wildness about him Arit couldn’t mistake as anything except the sign of another who had embraced his roots.
He padded from the lodge into the rocky surroundings, resisting the instinct to renew his scent markers to warn these new wolves whose territory they trod. When his chest heaved, frigid air filled his lungs. Not as icy as the winter season would soon become, but he shivered regardless. He would’ve loved a longer run to burn off the energy of his unwelcome mating heat, but city shifters wouldn’t last in the plummeting temperatures as this first snow storm sank its teeth into the Urals. After he finished catering to his guests, Arit resolved to return outdoors. The lodge didn’t need to be resupplied with fresh game yet, but the urge to run and run and run seared through him.