Micah explodes in a frenzy of fur and muscle.
My panicked brain can’t come up with any other way to describe it. One second she’s looking at me, the next her body has completely transformed. Feral gold eyes pierce mine, the horrible snap of bone and cartilage outpacing the screaming thunder of my heart. The body I know is now twice as huge, every inch is covered with thick white fur, with a muzzle full of bloodstained fangs bared with the curl of her lips.
She’s not a wolf, four-legged and familiar, but a massive hybrid of animal and human, towering over me as a guttural snarl escapes her throat. Her entire body is tensed to lunge, the anger in that bright gaze directed right at me.
Oh God, oh God—
I freeze in place. It’s all I can think to do when my legs feel rooted to the ground, when all I can picture the second I run is that huge maw snapping around me and biting deep. Looking up at her, I wait for the inevitable.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I whisper.
The threatening rumble in her throat quiets. Micah tilts her head, slow and deliberate. She’s staring at me, although I’m not quite sure what she’s searching for. Her broad chest rises with each breath, but except for quietly panting, there’s no other movement.
“Micah, are you in there?” I ask softly, careful to keep my distance. “Are you okay?”
There isn’t a verbal response—growl or otherwise—but as the eruption of violence in her eyes fades, she glances down at one of her clawed hands. It flexes slowly, then falls back to her side. She’s sluggish, dazed, like something just stopped her in her tracks.
Now that the shock is starting to wear off, I take a closer look at her. Micah’s eyes are nearly the same, holding a golden glow, but the heavy fur covering her body is much thicker than her hair, something I could bury my hands in and watch them disappear. It makes her already substantial silhouette even wider, but softer too, and so warm to the touch.
Wait, how would I know that?
Once the thought occurs, curiosity swiftly follows, and I reach out one of my hands toward her, slow as I can. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”
Micah lowers her wolfish head to meet my fingertips. My hand skims through the fur between pointed ears, and heat leaps to my skin, intense but soothing. It’s a little like petting an extremely large dog, but I delete that idea fast as a three a.m. text. She’s still a person, just in a very different shape.
Why did Vera’s fix stop working? I’m glad Micah isn’t raging out on me like she feared, but this doesn’t make any sense. We’d been talking like always, and no matter how sick she looked, there was no sign of the change, even with the cops chasing us around.
How could it happen now, when we’re hidden safely out of sight?
Something behind us whimpers. Micah tenses, and one furred arm wraps tight and protective around my stomach, pulling me against her massive body.
Okay, then. I thought she was strong in human form, but the sheer power coiled in one limb shakes me of that notion. Even with no force in the touch, it’s like I weigh nothing to her, surrounded by lush fur and an overpowering frame. My heart thumps hard in my chest, but it has nothing to do with fear.
I turn my head to look for the sound, and find the German shepherd that had been tracking us earlier.
The dog crouches down low, tail flat down against his legs and teeth bared. His entire body trembles with tension, caught on the harsh edge of fight-or-flight. I can’t even imagine what Micah looks like to the average canine, but I also don’t want Micah to beat up a dog on my behalf. I’d feel guilty forever.
“Get out of here,” I keep my voice soft, trying to attract his attention. “It’s okay, little guy. Just go find the person who holds your leash, yeah? Go. Go on.”
He whines again, tail flickering nervously, and Micah lets out a low, hostile rumble. The shepherd bolts, off like a shot and darting deep into the trees, running as fast as he can. After a few seconds, I can’t hear him anymore.
Well, that works too.
Micah relaxes, her arm slipping away from my body, but I miss the heat as a lash of cold night wind spills across my skin. The lake is completely calm beside us, as if nature didn’t get the memo about how fucked up everything is right now.
A man shouts, and three flashlights cut through the trees mere inches in front of us. I hear the dog bark, and bite back a curse. Of course he went and ran back to the cops and made it clear something was wrong: it’s what he’s trained to do.
I gasp as Micah takes a swipe at me, but the pain I expect from those claws never comes. They wrap around my wrist instead, gripping as lightly as possible while engulfing most of my forearm. She stares at me, then sharply jerks her head to the right—toward the other part of the forest. Then Micah tugs my arm in the same direction and lets go.
Run. The word echoes in my mind, written in her golden eyes.
But why isn’t she coming with me?
The cops are getting closer, trampling over branches and pine needles, and when one of the lights sweeps across me, I take off in a sprint, following Micah’s direction. She isn’t following—the only footsteps are closing in on the lake—and I fight the urge to squeeze my eyes shut, tears threatening to spill forth.
I didn’t want her to sacrifice herself for me! What have I done to deserve this? Why is she willing to give up so much?
Every way I come up with to stop the search puts both of us at risk—I don’t have another way out. There’s no choice but to put my faith in Micah, to trust she’s figured a way out of this. Driving one foot in front of the other, I use the moonlight overhead to guide my way. Maybe I don’t know this part of the park, but that’s fine—Micah said unpredictable paths were better.
It’s kind of like choreography. If I find the right steps, I can do this.
Over the split pine, under the branches. Pushing off a rock to cross a gap in the earth. I draw in deep breaths, trying to keep them slow and even. My lungs and legs both ache, but the pain is something to focus on, aware of my body as I can be. I used to wake up every morning before class and run laps around campus. This is nothing.
A bright white light shines directly in my face.
I trip. My elbow hits the ground first, scraping hard earth, and I roll to the side to keep the rest of the impact from shooting up my arm. It really, really hurts, but a sharp and shallow sting is a lot better than a bone snapping in half. Pine needles stick to my hair and clothes as I wobble to my feet, panting hard, and come face-to-face with Andrew.
The tactical flashlight in his hand burns like a trapped sun, casting harsh shadows over his pale face. He’s in full uniform, clad head to toe in beige with a bright red-and-yellow Arizona patch tacked on one shoulder, and somehow, ridiculously, wearing his Montana Peak hat like he’s waiting for inspection.
Green eyes narrow, cold with disdain. “Christiana. You’ve made me come a long way.”
Fuck.
“I didn’t make you do anything.” My voice shakes, which I hate, but talking buys me time. “Get away from me.”
Andrew tilts the flashlight right up into my eyes. I flinch, body reacting before I can stop it, but anger displaces the fear eating at my stomach. How dare he do this? Stalking me across half the state because he couldn’t get over being a trash-tier boyfriend.
“You’ve gotten mouthy. Pick that up from your biker buddy?” he drawls. “What did you do, throw your tips at the first punk you saw and expect a bodyguard?”
Even with him so close, it’s hard not to laugh. Andrew couldn’t be more oblivious about Micah if he tried. “Why do you care? My life isn’t your business anymore.”
“Don’t you hear how unreasonable you’re being right now?” He frowns. “Most girls like it when a guy chases after them. You went nuts.”
I wish I had anything—a rock, a knife, I’d even try holding Micah’s pistol—to make him back down and wrangle any sort of leverage. We’re surrounded by needle-like pines and rough stone, and I don’t trust myself to get enough of a running start before Andrew makes a move.
What can I say to get him to leave? Or catch him off guard. A few seconds is all I need.
“This trouble goes away when you come with me,” Andrew says. “Simple as that. It works out perfectly.”
He’s gripping the flashlight so tight, there’s no chance I could steal it out of his hands. Damn. “How exactly does that work out?”
“No need to fix that old apartment of yours if you stay with me.” Revulsion makes me shudder, and rage flashes in his eyes. “I’m done tolerating your little tantrum.”
The radio on his chest crackles with static. “Brooks, fall back to the trail. Something’s coming your way. It’s huge, like a bear or—”
Micah lunges through the trees and lands between Andrew and me, rising up to her full height and letting out a blood-chilling roar. Andrew’s hand freezes near the radio, eyes bulging wide and white before he drops the flashlight and scrambles for his gun. Under the falling arc of light, Micah’s massive hand shoots forward and shoves Andrew hard enough to send him flying off his feet.
He hits a tree with a horrible thud, hat knocked off his head. Both eyes roll back and flicker before he recovers, fumbling to slap the button at the top of his radio.
“Units, converge on me.” Andrew coughs, a film of blood sticking to his teeth. “Shoot any animal you see on sight.”
No, no, no—
The next thing I know, I’m off my feet too. Micah has me in the protective circle of her arms, moving in a blur through the park. Her claws barely make a sound, supernatural grace leaving even the most fragile branches intact. I throw my arms around her neck, clinging tight, and bury my face against the thick fur of Micah’s shoulder. The scent is heavy and familiar, identical to the inside of her vest when I woke up with it under me.
She runs until we’re in a part of the forest I’ve never seen before, climbing up toward a short cliff of red rock. Micah’s pace slows until she halts at the base of the cliff, suddenly wavering on her feet.
“Micah,” I gasp, untangling myself from her embrace before she falls, collapsing on one side against the ground.
The change ripples away from her skin, fur shed and whisked away into the air. Once it’s gone, Micah is curled up on the earth in human shape, eyes closed and body still. If not for the slow rise and fall of her ribs, I’d think the worst had happened.
Oh God, she passed out.
Before panic gets the better of me, I stop for a second to listen for anything coming our way. My ears aren’t like Micah’s, but there’s no approaching footsteps, no shouts or barks. Andrew and the rest of the cops have to be looking for us, but they don’t seem to be anywhere close by—yet.
Where are we? Where was Micah trying to take me?
I spin on my heel, and past a narrow veil of trees, I spy a cabin at the top of the little cliff. Making out the details isn’t easy by moonlight, but a set of stairs are carved into the rock, completely concealed if you’re staring at the cliff dead-on. It would be easy enough to run up there and hide, but I can’t leave Micah like this.
Kneeling by her side, I cradle her face between my hands. “Micah, wake up. Please.”
She doesn’t respond, not even a twitch. Unconscious like this, Micah’s entire body is slumped with exhaustion, muscles slack and a cold sweat breaking out across pale skin. I lift up one of her arms, but it falls back as dead weight.
No, not dead. She isn’t dead, and I’m not going to let her get ambushed by cops while completely defenseless. I used to lift people in dance all the time, even people who weighed more than me, like it was nothing.
Getting started is ten times harder without any help, but desperation is one hell of a fuel. I pull Micah’s arm up and around my neck, holding on tight while driving my hips into a sharp tug. The initial momentum gives me enough strength to bring her body up, closer to my back, and I turn into the weight, breathing in through my nose and keeping my core tight.
She’s so goddamn heavy. My brain screams the words on loop as I fight the sensation of being crushed, trying to get my legs out from under me. I push through my heels with every ounce of force I can, gasping as I manage to stand. Any dance instructor worth their salt would weep at the sloppy carry, but it’s the best I can do, dragging with every step toward the cabin.
Unfortunately, step is literal. Every time I go up one of the stone stairs, my balance threatens to waver. I find a rhythm, one step with every full breath, and keep my eyes on the cabin, refusing to focus on anything else. The whole experience is slow and horrible and I want to curse through every second of it, but that would waste the air I need in my lungs.
My knees wobble dangerously the second I reach the top, and I barely drop back down without hurting myself. Micah slides off my back like a stone, but my entire body throbs with an echo of her weight. Tears stream down my face as I breathe against the burning in my ribs and shoulders, trying to find the energy to start again and open the damn door.
It opens for me.
Vera stands in the threshold, curiosity doing a swift one-eighty to alarm. “It was her I heard howling. Why did—it doesn’t matter. Get inside, now.”
The sudden command gives me one last burst of strength, and I stumble past her into the cabin. It’s mercifully warm, the scent of woodsmoke so soothing that I could fall asleep on my feet. Except I can’t let my eyes close until I know Micah’s okay.
Vera carries her inside with substantially more ease than I did, laying Micah down on the wooden frame of her bed in a nest of blankets and furs. Micah hasn’t woken up yet, but she hasn’t stopped breathing either. I come to her side and tug a blanket over her body. Werewolves might not care about modesty, but she’s totally naked and passed out—it only seems right.
“Keep your eyes on her for a moment,” Vera says from behind me. “I need to seal the door.”
I have the distinct feeling I don’t have the first clue what that means, but she’s saving both of us right now, so I can’t care. “Okay.”
Running my fingers through Micah’s hair is a momentary distraction before Vera puts a light hand on my shoulder. “Let’s go sit down.”
“But she’s—”
“Everyone here is safe now.” The confidence in Vera’s every word reminds me of Micah, a force of nature not to be refused. “Micah’s not sick or hurt. She’s worn out from an extremely exhausting change. Right now, you can worry about you. And you should.”
She’s proven correct the second I collapse in a chair. My entire body sinks, grateful to have the weight off my feet, shoulders leaden with fatigue. I have no idea when I’m going to be able to stand up again. Oof.
“Would you like some tea?” she asks.
“Tea sounds great.”
Her woodstove sparks to life without a hitch, heating a copper kettle that looks decades old. Vera moves with the reflexive ease of someone who knows where every single thing is in her space, hands shifting from cabinet to shelf in the blink of an eye.
“I’m sorry for crashing your place like this,” I say. “Micah ran us here, but I didn’t think it was someone’s house.”
“She ran here because she knew I could keep anyone from coming through that door, and that’s not an easy thing to promise.” Vera hands me a steaming mug of tea. I don’t recognize the herb at the bottom, but it smells nice. “My question is, why did she change? What happened right before then?”
“I don’t know.” No matter how far I think back, there’s no obvious sign. We were talking, hiding, running, but there was nothing outside the ordinary. “It seemed like the stuff you gave her was working. Micah looked kind of ill, but then she shifted, totally out of the blue.”
Vera frowns, then takes a small sip from her own mug. “All right. I suppose the answer will have to wait until she wakes up. The two of you can stay here until sunrise.”
“Thank you so much.” The tea is hot, but very good, with a hint of smoke and pine. “How do I even start to repay you?”
“Don’t worry about that. Micah and I have an arrangement that covers many kinds of emergencies.” She pauses, mouth pulled into a thoughtful moue. “Although I am curious about you, I admit. Most humans don’t adapt to werewolf life so well.”
I mean, the first day or so, I didn’t know I was adapting to werewolf life. The full moon aside, the pack isn’t that much different than a tight-knit group of friends. “It was pretty easy. Not to mention I lost my car and my apartment was trashed in the same day, so it’s not like I had somewhere to go back to.”
“Plus you met Micah,” Vera adds.
The simple mention of her name shouldn’t make me react, but heat rushes up the back of my neck anyway. “Well, yeah. It’s that obvious, huh?”
“The two of you are—” Vera pauses, then shakes her head. “Yes. But don’t take that as an insult. It’s very sweet.”
“I’m still trying to put the whole future thing together, I guess.” Another sip of the tea goes down. My body hasn’t given up protesting, but it’s downgraded to a dull ache. “Unfortunately, I need my ex to stop telling everyone that I’ve been kidnapped first.”
God, what if my parents hear? They would be scared half to death, and it would be just like Andrew to use that fear so they’ll help him find me. I’m half-tempted to text Mom and Dad a warning, but if my only child sent me a “don’t worry, I’m not kidnapped” message, I’d be on the phone with everyone in a hundred-mile radius to find them.
Guilt twists through my stomach. When was the last time I even saw my parents? Andrew never wanted to come with me, and gave me hell if I tried to go alone. At some point, I kind of gave up. It was the same way with his dad. I saw him once before Andrew said it wasn’t a good idea for us to come over anymore. Apparently after his divorce Andrew’s father had women at his house constantly, and didn’t want his son cramping his style.
Louis Vuitton couldn’t make a bag big enough to hold all those issues.
“Christiana.” Vera’s gentle voice pulls me back to the present. “Think past right this second. What are you really looking for?”
The question in and of itself isn’t weird, but this is only the second time we’ve met. It’s serious, and personal, and she means it. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because if you’re with Micah, that means being here. This is the land I watch after, and I have to watch over everyone here too. That relationship can be damaged by a lot of things.” Vera sets her cup down, then smiles. “Which I don’t intend to be intimidating. It’s only the truth, and it’s better to learn it now.”
“It’s not intimidating. Honesty is super refreshing, trust me.” Which is why it takes me a few minutes come up with an actual answer. “Freedom, I guess. I feel like my life was on rails for years, and being knocked off the path made me realize that I don’t have that much that makes me happy.”
Work—Mary and Charlie—have really pulled through, but I don’t intend on serving locals beer until I hit retirement age. There was supposed to be something else, some nebulous proof of success that I never got a hold on.
“I went to college, which I loved, but couldn’t find a job for my major. Then I ended up dating the first guy who seemed nice enough, and he’s some stalker asshole. But I met Micah and the pack and just...realized there’s a whole different way to live.”
“The secrecy doesn’t bother you?” Vera asks.
“Her having to hide what she is, you mean?” She nods. “Not particularly. But I’ve met a lot of people who have to hide who they are. Just for different reasons than being a werewolf.”
That makes her crack a smile. “Fair enough. So happiness and freedom, and it seems like you’ll find it here.”
A pretty good summary, even if I don’t get points for specificity. “What about you, Vera? What do you want?”
Her answer is instant. “Peace. It’s the hardest thing to earn, and the easiest thing to lose. Every day, there’s countless sparks of conflict between our kind and wolfkind, waiting to ignite. Maybe into war or extermination. And there’s not as many Wardens around as you might think. Our hands hold ten thousand fires while we pray not to burn.”
My eyes widen. “I don’t understand. How do you even keep track of all that?”
“Well, Wardens are made, not born. It took a decade of training before I was allowed to put the title in front of my name. I’m human, just like you.”
“That’s what’s tripping me up,” I admit. “Werewolves are supposed to be this big hidden thing, but the people hiding them are human too?”
“For good reason.” Vera frowns. “What would happen if you locked me in a room for a month?”
The question catches me completely off guard. “Uh, I’d be a terrible person?”
That earns a soft laugh, but she shakes her head. “Let me turn it around. What would happen if you put Micah in a room for a month, and the full moon came?”
Oh. “She would change. Everyone would see.”
“Exactly. I can’t be vulnerable to the same secrets that I’m keeping. Such was the deal made between our kinds, a very, very long time ago. A select few to mind the peace, gifted with the power to demand it if necessary. It has some extra benefits.”
“Benefits like what?” I ask.
Vera smiles. “Well, I got to see Mexican grizzly bears before they went extinct. The Cascade wolves. Merriam’s elks. They might never be part of this world again, but I still remember.”
I blink, staring at her. “El oso plateado? A silver bear?”
“The very same.”
My mom took me to see one of the skeletons in a museum when I was a kid. “Those were extinct in, like, the 1920s.” Vera looks mid-thirties at best.
“As I said, there are benefits.” She shrugs. “My point is more that my duty is worth the tradeoff, worth bearing so many secrets and so much pain. You’ll have to do the same, if you’re with Micah. If you become a part of the pack. It’s a door that can’t be closed again. Is that something you can do?”
My first instinct is to say yes, as emphatically as I can, but the weight of the question hits me before I can open my mouth. “I want to. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t expect to screw up a few times. Staying in one place, keeping friends...it’s been hard for me for a long time.”
“Why?”
I bite my lip. Deep dive into the baggage, here we go. “For tons of reasons. But the problem is, I always end up trying to make myself be like whoever I want to be close to. Like if I can mold myself into the right shape, there won’t be any conflicts.”
Vera lets out a faint hum. “Do you think you’re doing that with Micah?”
My throat tightens. Maybe? Yes? I don’t know.
“I’m kind of worried about it. Like, wow, it’s kind of a twenty-point rebound situation, but I don’t feel bad. Even when I have no idea what the hell is happening, being around her is incredible.”
“Then don’t make yourself hurt where there’s no wound,” she says. “And don’t worry about an occasional screwup. It’s only natural. Making amends after is a far greater test of character, in my experience.”
“I can work with that.”
“Good.” Her eyes flicker down to my empty mug. “Now go to bed and get some rest. There’s plenty of room for both of you there.”
I shake my head. “I’m not going to take your spot.”
“Moving Micah a second time is more effort than it’s worth. It’s only for a few hours, and I have to be up anyway.”
Looking Vera in the eye, I accept that she’s not going to budge. So I get up, place my mug quietly in the sink, and climb onto the bed next to Micah. The low wooden frame has more than enough room for me to spread out, but I press up against Micah’s back anyway, putting my arm around her stomach.
Seconds later, I fall asleep.