TRUSTING THE WOLF
by Yvonne Rediger
I woke with a start, my heart pounding like a jackhammer. The taste of blood coated the back of my throat, a ghost of a memory. I’d killed Geoff, again.
With the sheet clenched in my fists, I struggled to get my heart rate under control. I didn’t need a mirror to tell me gold rolled over my shapeshifter eyes.
The rage, fear, and revulsion faded slowly as I came back to myself. Wearily, I rubbed my face.
This was getting old.
“Get a grip, Lottie,” I told myself irritably and flung back the covers.
Geoff was a member of my pack and used to run security with me. I never much liked him. We didn’t get along, but we could work together.
Our alphas discovered the beta wolf murdered one of our pack members and poisoned another. I didn’t know anything about it until it was too late.
How did I miss the signs pointing to his guilt? I’m a security screw up, that’s how.
The need to be outside overwhelmed me. I didn’t bother to grab a robe before leaving the bedroom.
My feet unerringly took me through the dark house. From the kitchen, I exited by the back door and stepped into the walled-in back garden. The cooler night air helped and I breathed in deep. Slowly, my blood pressure dropped, but it wasn’t enough. Usually, when I was surrounded by growing things, I could unwind. Not tonight.
In daylight, the yard was a multi-hued display. After dark, the plants released their complex scents into the still night air. Surrounded by the rich, spicy perfumes, I breathed them in again, hoping to calm down. But still it wasn’t enough.
Abruptly, I opened the outside shower door. The metal spring protested with a squawk, but I was the only one to hear it.
Even though the new moon had yet to rise, the interior was clearly defined as my wolf sight took over. The teak floor, smooth under my bare feet, felt cold. My landlord salvaged the wood from a sailboat cockpit to build it. The wooden grid allowed the water from the rainspout shower head to pass through to the drainage system and water the plants. We experienced droughts more often now on the Island, and Guy Tremblay was the plan ahead type.
A bath puff and towel hung from the row of brass hooks, but I wasn’t there to shower, at least not yet. I hug my panties and tank top from an empty hook.
At five-foot, ten inches, I carried a respectable amount of muscle. With my well-developed arms extended over my head I reached for the night sky. I bent forward and placed my hands flat on the wooden floor, and felt my hamstrings stretch. None of this naked yoga was strictly necessary, but it loosened up my limbs. I felt a consuming need to shift and burn off the nightmare hangover with a run.
As I straightened, brief bloody images flashed in my head. Geoff managed to kill and terrorize his way from Campbell River to the Cowichan Valley before we made him pay. It didn’t matter that he deserved to die, I just wished I could escape the images.
I remember every detail of Geoff’s death with excruciating clarity. The feel of his flesh as it gave way under my teeth, the hot spurt of his blood in my mouth and on my face. My anger, fear, and the taste of bile, along with the rank smell of his fur. A shiver of revulsion passed through me and made me want to puke.
Instead, I shook off the overpowering feelings, took one more deep, calming breath, and my barriers dropped.
Pure, clean power washed through me, as I open myself up to the pool of magic that resided inside my human shape. The magic cleaned and transformed my spirit as it reshaped my body. The power drove away the suffocating feelings of guilt and released my wolf.
I held a considerable amount of magic and my transformation was always swift and easy. As a result, I stood on four large wolf paws and lifted my head to shake out my sable-brown coat.
My world was sharper and more distinct in my wolf form. Images hidden by the night come in to focus. Smells were sharper, like the tang of small animals, the remnants of my neighbor’s barbeque last night, and the green smells of plants around me made my nose twitch. Each sound was crisper and clearer too. Everything was less complicated in this shape. I loved my wolf, she was my release.
With my head and shoulders I pushed the double-hinged door open, and loped across the yard. There is a gate with a loop of rope attached to the latch, but it’s fiddly. Besides, it was nothing for me to clear the six-foot stone wall, and I couldn’t wait. I wanted to run, I needed to run.
I was over the fence in a heartbeat and landed with barely a sound. My claws dug into the soft dirt and dried grass, and bit deep into the turf. I gathered my hindquarters under me and thrust forward into the night.
When I ran in my animal shape it always made me feel better. With no reservations, I gave myself over to my wolf completely.
Given the reins, she consumed me and escaped the horrible guilt the dreams always invoked. I didn’t regret killing Geoff. He brought his death onto himself. What I did regret was I never questioned his behavior. My dislike for him blinded me. I was supposed to be an impartial investigator, in any given situation. Not a great recommendation for a security supervisor, charged with keeping the pack safe.
My paws hit the soft dirt in a steady rhythm and fresh air filled my lungs.
The night creatures froze in place as I passed by. I didn’t care, I wasn’t hunting. Instead, I dropped my head, laid my ears back, and pushed myself harder. Building speed to take the next ridge, and I instinctively head for pack lands and leave my neighborhood behind.
Want to read more?
Charlotte “Lottie” Fistbinder is cocky on the outside and guilt ridden on the inside. With the changes in the hierarchy of the Vancouver Island Clan, her shapeshifter alpha promoted her to head of security, and now the safety of the entire pack is on her shoulders. Trouble is, she’s not sure she’s fit for the job. She worked alongside a whacko and never knew it until it was almost too late. What other serious threat is she missing? So, she’s thrilled when her alpha brings in help to train her and the security team…or is she?
Zavier Koering, is intrigued by Charlotte the moment he sees her file picture. Meeting her for the first time at night in the woods, and in the flesh, is everything he’s hoped for. Especially their first kiss. She’s beautiful, feisty, and gives him as good as he gets. But he has a job to do before he can get her between the sheets. Then her pack is threatened, and all hell breaks loose.
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