I wake up with my face buried against Micah’s chest, surrounded by her heat and the subtle tang of salt, with something sweet on the back of my tongue. My dreams were wild, but the images fall apart as I open my eyes and look at her.
Usually Micah is up way before I am, so this is a nice surprise. In sleep, the hard line of her jaw is relaxed, breath slow and even. I can’t help but examine the pale line of her brows, and the faint spill of her hair, every last strand the same spectral shade of white.
The pack wasn’t kidding about the color being natural. Incredible.
My legs shift a bit under the sleeping bag, stretching out the tension of the morning, and Micah’s eyes drift open. A golden glint flares in her irises, fading as she blinks, grasping at consciousness. Her resting frown returns within seconds, confusion playing across her face.
“Did I sleep in?” she mutters. “I feel like I don’t know what time it is.”
“Do you usually know what time it is?” I’ve never seen her with a watch, and Connor’s the only one with a phone.
“Roughly. You get a sense for these things after living out here long enough.” Micah’s arm slips away from my waist as she sits up, head an inch shy from the roof of the tent. “Guess I needed to catch up on some sleep.”
“Everything okay?” I ask. She went out like a light the second we lay down last night, a warm and yielding weight pressed against my back.
Her mouth tightens into a thin line. “I need to tell you something.”
That’s a no by proxy. Anxiety spikes in my chest, but I tamp it back down. Honesty is a good thing, not a punishment waiting to happen. “I’m listening.”
“It’s the full moon tonight. Werewolves can shift any time they want, but once a month we have to. Usually the pack and I go out running in the desert, enjoying ourselves as far away from people as we can.”
Except I’m here. “I don’t want to get in the way, Micah.”
“You won’t,” she answers, more firm than I expect, but that iron confidence sweeps away my doubt. “I’m staying here with you. I wouldn’t leave you alone in the middle of a forest.”
“Does that mean I’m going to see you shift?” I ask.
I can’t not ask. There’s probably some etiquette about asking someone to strip down and turn into a wolf in front of you, but ever since I’ve found out about the whole shapeshifting deal, some part of me has been desperately curious.
Micah shakes her head, which catches me off guard. “I can’t transform. Or rather, it would be a very bad idea if I did.”
“It’s because of that werewolf law, right? You’re not supposed to change in front of humans.” That makes the most sense. “But I saw Connor already. It’s not like I don’t know, you know? Why does it matter if I see you too?”
“This isn’t about our rules.” Her expression turns grim. “Last time I changed, I hurt someone. I almost killed them.”
“Oh, shit.” Tension tightens my throat. I’ve never seen so much as a flash of anger on her face before. Is she that different as a wolf? “Micah, what happened?”
If I thought she looked dour before, the look on Micah’s face now is downright bleak. “Well, the pack was out riding late when we saw this truck pulled over on the side of the road, no plates. The guy outside it had his hands on a woman, and she was in real rough shape.”
My stomach sinks.
“I’m no cop. Law and justice don’t have much to do with me, but I could smell the fear rolling off her. Pure, unrelenting terror.” Micah lets out a deep breath. “So we stopped. Surrounded the truck with our bikes, and I went to go have a word with him.”
She goes quiet for a moment, the tension in her jaw working against itself. I reach for one of her hands, offering a soft squeeze. Whatever this is, whatever happened, I have a feeling the next part will be worse, so I brace myself.
“I hear her begging him to stop when she sees me. And the look on her face...it’s like she had no idea if I was there to help or to make her night a new circle of hell.” Micah bares her teeth, there and gone again. “There was so much blood hidden under her clothes. I grabbed the bastard before I could think any better of it.”
I squeeze Micah’s hand tighter.
“He doesn’t like it much. I get a gun shoved into my ribs, get told to fuck off before he blows my brains out. There’s a badge on his hip that says Phoenix Police Department.”
A cop. Of course.
“Something in me snapped,” Micah whispers. “He wanted me to be scared, to back down, and the only thing I could think was that I wanted him to feel that fear forever. A taste of his own medicine. I shifted and my teeth went into his throat.”
Guilt pulls Micah’s face tight, and she goes quiet again.
“You said he survived,” I prompt gently. “So you pulled back?”
“Only because I realized what I was doing. Showing my wolf put the whole pack at risk, and the woman with him lost it. She was scared, which of course she was, but it was too late to do anything about that. I left him propped against the truck with his phone dialed to 911.”
It’s awkward to ask, but I want to be sure. “How do you know he survived?”
“If a dead cop was found on the side of a road, it would have been news everywhere. The fact that they didn’t even file a report tells me he didn’t want anyone knowing what he’d been up to. Talisa gave the woman the money we had on us, got her somewhere safe. But whenever I try to shift now, the only thing I feel is that unstoppable rage.”
Which is why she won’t change in front of me. “Micah, you didn’t do anything wrong. You were protecting someone defenseless.”
“Except I could have done that by knocking him out with a punch. He’d wake up thinking he was decked by some biker, and no one would be the wiser.” Micah huffs. “People abusing their power sets something off in me, but I put my ego before the pack, and in front of a human who didn’t know what was going on. I know it was wrong, and my wolf does too.”
I bite my lip. “Is there any way to fix it?”
“I don’t know. There’s not exactly a werewolf hotline I can dial up and ask.”
“Didn’t you say that you had some sort of government?” Somebody out there has to be coming up with these laws.
Micah’s expression goes from exhausted to wry acceptance. “I got where I am by showing my wolf to a human, Christiana. They don’t give you therapy for that.”
Oh, right. Execution was the word. I get not wanting their secrets exposed, but that’s pretty extreme.
“Well, I’m not a therapist, but you shouldn’t hate yourself for trying to do the right thing. You’re not a monster. You made a mistake.” For a second, there’s a nervous flutter in my chest. “Making up for it is what matters.”
“Then why is that anger staying there?” Micah’s free hand presses over her heart, clenching into a fist. “I’m trapped. The moon wills me to change, but the second I do, I’ll relive that night again.”
That I don’t have the answer to. “Have you talked to the pack about it?”
“Kind of. Everyone says they don’t judge me, but I remember how they froze up after my teeth came out. I’m not sure if that means what I did is forgiven, or if they’re just holding their breath for the next time.”
“You were the only one who changed,” I say.
“That doesn’t matter. I might be a werewolf, but I know how the police work, and what they care about. If the cops had come after us, they wouldn’t go for me first. We have to use fake licenses, so what would that mean if they caught Alejandra? If a SWAT team shows, who are they aiming at first?”
“Talisa,” I admit quietly. Micah towers over everyone else in the club, but she’s still white. She could get away with plenty before being considered a threat. “And if Royal and Connor got locked up, that’d be really bad.”
Especially if fighting back as a wolf means a death sentence from their own people. There’s no winning.
“You see?” Micah sighs. “In one move, I put everyone at risk. I was frustrated and angry, but it’s no excuse. Problem is, knowing that doesn’t fix a damn thing.”
I lean forward, pressing my brow against hers. She welcomes the contact with a soft rumble, low in her chest. “I get it. But I’m not scared of you. You won’t shift like that again, right?”
She nods, but the gesture is tense. “Of course.”
My lips find Micah’s, and she returns the soft kiss without hesitation. We stay like that a while, exchanging breaths and that light touch, my hand staying wrapped around hers. Despite the anger she fears will catch fire again, she’s nothing but gentle here.
“What do you want to do about tonight?” I whisper.
“I have a way around changing,” she admits, “but I don’t want to use it until the others go on their run.”
I frown. “You don’t want them to know?”
Micah shakes her head. “Every werewolf grows up wishing we lived in a world where we could change whenever and wherever we like. The full moon is a release, it’s a blessing. To turn my back on it, no matter the reason, is more than weakness. It’s shameful.”
Ouch. That’s pretty harsh, but I can tell she believes every word. “I won’t say anything.”
“Thank you,” she murmurs. “You don’t know how much that means.”
I’m not sure I could convince myself to do anything else. Micah put herself in danger for me, and she’s done everything she can to make sure I stay safe. Keeping quiet for a few hours in front of the pack is nothing compared to that.
“Come on.” I kiss her cheek. “Let’s make breakfast.”
Without a shift at the bar scheduled, the whole day is mine. Even if I didn’t already know it was the full moon, the relentless energy everyone has is an unmistakable clue. Connor keeps fussing with his radio, and Royal leaves to go swimming in the lake—twice. Talisa and Alejandra disappear for most of the afternoon, returning with disheveled clothes and a necklace of bite marks fading around Alejandra’s throat.
Seeing them makes me blush, if only because it’s impossible not to picture Micah doing the exact same thing to me.
She stays close by, but doesn’t talk much. Whenever she gets up to grab something, tension coils in her body, like a piece of steel being forced into place. No one in the pack seems to comment, but they’re probably used to Micah being quiet. She never seems to speak unless there’s something important to say.
I’m tempted to fill the silence, but that’s my own anxiety. Micah isn’t ignoring me or pulling some passive-aggressive fit. If anything, she’s as focused as ever, always offering a hand before I can even think to ask for help.
Lunch finishes off the rest of the meat in the cooler, but Alejandra is ecstatic at the realization. “Oh, please say we can hunt tonight.”
“Of course we’ll hunt tonight,” Talisa answers, grinning wide. “I’ll take us up toward the mountains, and we can catch something nice.”
“Sorry you won’t be with us, Micah,” Royal says.
“Don’t worry about me,” she answers, expression blank. “I want everyone to have a good time on the run.”
Oh, Micah. Watching her burying what she feels so deep is unsettling. I know why she doesn’t want to tell the truth, but seeing her hide from the people who care about her so much turns my stomach into knots.
At least she was able to tell me, I guess.
I scoot a little closer to her on the wooden seat, and give her knee a light squeeze. Micah drapes her hand over mine, keeping it there, and I smile. No one in the pack says a word, but there’s no question that they notice.
Werewolf social standards aside, it’s nice. I remember dating in college, constantly getting peppered with questions from other girls in the dance crew, to the point that I ended up talking more about my partner than myself. If your relationship isn’t splashed across social media, some people assume it must be on the rocks, but Micah and I are treated just like Talisa and Alejandra, or Royal and Connor when the two of them cuddle by the fire at night. Nobody says anything about the obvious.
As the sun starts to set, Micah starts to pace. Talisa strips without fanfare, and the rest of the pack does too, leaving their clothes on top of their sleeping bags. It makes sense—I wouldn’t want to shred my favorite outfit either—but it’s hard not to be a bit embarrassed when I’m still totally dressed. Turns out Alejandra has a scar along the outside of her thigh, and Connor has even more tattoos that I hadn’t seen. Royal tugs the band out of their braid, blond hair falling around broad shoulders, thick as a lion’s mane. When I meet Talisa’s eyes and blush, she hums in amusement.
“It’s fine if you look,” she says. “Micah and I used to go out in the middle of winter without a stitch and see whose teeth started chattering first. Everyone gets an eyeful.”
“I mean, I’ve seen people naked before,” I mutter, face getting even hotter. Saying that doesn’t help my case as much as I want it to.
At least Micah is keeping her clothes on. I’d be distracted for completely different reasons if she was in the buff next to me.
“Can you turn off that radio?” Alejandra asks Connor, then winces. “I’m not even changed, and I can hear everything right now.”
“Give me one second,” he mutters, then turns up the volume on his scanner. “Something’s going on.”
A soft burst of static carries through the speaker before the voice on it becomes clear: “—advising all units. This is a state-wide BOLO pertaining to the kidnapping of Christiana Arjean, age twenty-four. She was reported missing from her vehicle, found abandoned by a patrol on Route 60. Suspect is known by presumed alias ‘Micah,’ white female, late twenties, white hair, wearing a leather vest, white shirt, and blue jeans. BOLO a black 2011 Victory Cross Roads with fraudulent plates, last seen approaching Horony National Park. Considered armed and dangerous. More information to follow.”
“Kidnapping?” The word bursts out of me before I can stop it. “How...how did they find all that out? Connor took the tracker out of my phone. I don’t even have my car anymore! I haven’t been back to my apartment. I haven’t—”
This has to be Andrew.
My chest hurts. Acid burns up the inside of my throat as I try to breathe, but it keeps catching in my lungs, wrenched tight over and over again. A hard cough escapes, tears clogging the corners of my eyes until Micah’s arms come around me. Her embrace is strong, but the pressure snaps me out of the terrible loop as I suck in a hard breath.
“Stay with me,” she whispers against the top of my hair, “it’s okay.”
“It isn’t okay,” I gasp weakly. The world’s spinning. If Micah wasn’t holding me, I would collapse to the ground. “How do they know? How did they find us?”
Micah freezes in place. “The cop who stopped me at the bar.”
“What?”
“He wasn’t there to try to write me up,” she growls. “He was talking to me so he could get a good look at my face. Saw my name on the vest. Ran the plates when he got back to the car. Told someone to keep an eye out for my bike.”
Kidnapping. The only reason he’d have Micah accused of such a thing is to force me out in the open, so I would have to prove to everyone that I’m okay. Then Andrew would know exactly where I was, and that I had nowhere else to run.
“Micah, I don’t want to throw fuel on the fire,” Talisa says, “but we have an hour max before the moon has her say. If cops are coming to the park, they’ll find you. They’ll see your wolf. They’ll expose us.”
“No, they won’t,” Micah insists. “We’re moving the pack’s bikes and bedding to the lake. Last thing I want is cops fucking up our gear as a last resort. The fire will stay so it draws them up here.”
“It will draw them to you.” Alejandra shows her teeth, much sharper than they were a second ago.
“Everyone else will be on a run, far away from here. I can keep Christiana hidden until they wear themselves out looking for us.” I clutch at her arms as she speaks, needing the weight, to be grounded. “This is some bastard with a vendetta, but the PPD has no stamina. If we dodge them tonight, they won’t come back.”
“How are you hiding her as a giant fucking wolf, Micah?” Talisa asks. “You are white as snow in the middle of a desert, in case you’ve somehow managed to forget that.”
Micah lets go of me and stands up straight. “I’m not changing. That’s how.”
“You said that to me before.” Alejandra narrows her eyes. “So unless you want to share that little magic trick, that just tells me you’re going to do something stupid.”
With a growl, Micah yanks the tin out of her pocket and pries the lid off. Everyone in the pack recoils—Connor almost stumbles over his radio, catching himself at the last minute. By the firelight, it has a strange sheen, but I have no clue what made them react that way.
“That’s pure silver,” Royal hisses. “What are you doing with that?”
“Vera made it for me. This balm can stop the change, which is a good thing, because the only thing my wolf wants right now is blood. So unless the plan is for me to eat half the police department, I’m not going to shift.”
“Balm, my ass. That poison is going to kill you,” Talisa growls. “Even if it works, some part of you is going to pay the price.”
“It’s what she wants,” I say. My voice shakes, but Micah was so ashamed to tell me about Vera’s fix, and I’m not even a werewolf. “I’m sorry this is happening. It’s because of me. Don’t blame her.”
“It’s happening because she lost it on that other cop,” Connor counters quietly. “But we can’t leave you, Micah. You’re pack, always.”
“That’s not your call.” Micah’s tone is even, offering no rebuke, but that doesn’t stop him from wincing a little. “Because you’re right. This started because of what I did, and I am not putting all of you in danger again. Do you understand? I pay the price. No one else.”
Talisa moves in a blur, getting right up in Micah’s face. I stumble back as they both growl, baring rows of very sharp teeth, and Alejandra’s hand catches my arm. Her grip is light, but the power behind it is unmistakable. She doesn’t have Micah’s size, but there’s no question that Alejandra is devastatingly strong.
“Stay out of this,” she murmurs. “Let them deal with it. Okay?”
I want to help, but getting in between two upset werewolves doesn’t seem like a good idea for anyone. There’s nothing to do but nod.
Micah and Talisa stalk around each other in a slow, tight circle, never breaking eye contact. I’ve heard of people having hackles raised, but this is far more real, the tension between them boiling hotter and hotter.
Then it’s gone in a sharp punch of breath as Talisa snarls, “You lied to me, you asshole. We never lie to each other. Twenty years now. More.”
One of Talisa’s hands clenches into a fist before it slowly relaxes by degrees.
Micah’s shoulders sink. Her fangs fade, although I see threads of blood on her tongue. “I did. And I’m sorry.”
Talisa’s frame slackens too, the anger in her eyes bleeding away to sorrow, caught in the shift between brown and gold. “I don’t want to fight.”
The same pain takes over Micah’s face. “Ordering everyone around is the last thing I want to be doing. It’s not us. It’s not what we want to be.”
“Leaving you alone feels like a betrayal,” Talisa whispers. “You’re not immortal, Micah. If enough of them come for you—”
“Talisa.” Micah tilts her head down until their brows meet. “Nubilos don’t die easy. You know that. Keep them safe. Please.”
Talisa’s eyes squeeze shut. “Yeah. You better stick around, because I’m dragging you to Vera’s house after this and we’re going to talk. Got me?”
Micah’s answer is a soft, comforting rumble. “You got it.”
Talisa pulls away, roughly wiping wetness out of her eyes. “Come on. Everyone grab your bikes and get going.”
This time there’s no argument. The pack moves faster than I can comprehend, straining my vision at the edges. Then they’re gone, leaving the camp empty except for my tent, Micah’s bike, and the firepit.
Micah looks up at the sky. The moon peeks out from behind a cloud, massive and full of bright, unyielding light. Her hand twitches around the tin, and the metal warps before she forces her hand to relax, letting out a shaking breath.
“I need this on me. Now.”