Chapter 10

TARYN POV

I spar with Maddie for at least an hour. Maybe even more. I lose track of my wins and losses, but I know we’re pretty even. She may have one or two more wins than me, but since she’s a lycan and I’m just a werewolf, I’m feeling pretty good about myself and my abilities.

I just have to hope she hasn’t been taking it easy on me.

That would be embarrassing.

I scramble to my feet after getting pinned by Maddie again, readying myself for another round, when Reid walks into the ring with us.

“That’s enough,” he says. “You can clean up.”

My shoulders slump in relief, and I follow Maddie out of the ring and towards what I assume are the locker rooms, but Reid grabs my hand, stopping me.

“Not you,” he says. “We’re not done yet.”

I glance back at him, forcing my eyes to stay on his face instead of wandering lower. So far, the entire time I’ve been here, I have had to remind myself not to ogle him. But his tatted biceps that his black t-shirt sleeves can’t contain, and his broad, muscular shoulders that stretch and bulge beneath the fabric, and those damn gray sweatpants are all very distracting and have me almost drooling, have me ready to act on what I told Blake I wanted to do to him — climb him like a tree.

What is it about gray sweatpants on men, anyway?

I blink and swallow, pushing back my wandering, indecent thoughts. “We’re not?”

He shakes his head. “I need to see your wolf still.”

“Oh.”

I lick my lips and glance around his pack grounds, calculating how many others are nearby and how close they are to us, determining how easily they’ll be able to see my wolf. My heart rate picks up and I remind myself to breathe.

I hate this part. Not shifting. Not my wolf. I love my wolf and I could never be ashamed of her or her size. She is beautiful and strong even with her smaller than normal stature.

But I hate that I can’t control the reactions of others when they see me shift. I hate that I can’t predict their thoughts or read their minds. I hate that I have to even think about proving myself capable of anything beyond basic self defense skills once people know my wolf is small.

Reid squeezes my hand, and I turn to face him again, glancing down to where we touch. I didn’t even realize he was still holding my hand. He looks down for a second too, then drops my hand and clears his throat, pulling my focus back to his face and his kind, baby blue eyes. “No one here is going to judge you for your wolf or how she looks. They all know better than to do that. To judge someone based on what they are on the outside.”

“Okay,” I say with more confidence than I feel.

But I don’t need him to pity me or know I am terrified. Or that the judgment I’m most worried about isn’t from the rest of his pack, but from him.

Just him.

It’s not logical, since he hasn’t given me any reason to doubt him, but it’s the truth. His reaction to my wolf feels important, feels like it may be a turning point for our relationship. Our… friendship. If he judges me, or pities me, or laughs at me — I’m pretty sure it might break me more than any other reaction anyone has had to her.

He grins and beckons me with a tilt of his head, leading me towards the tree line near the lake. I see this lake often on runs around the Silver Ridge pack borders, but I’ve never seen it up close. The crescent moon shape isn’t as noticeable as it is from higher elevations, but the way the redwood trees, the sun, and the clouds reflect in a perfect mirror image on the surface of the water is incomparable to anything I’ve seen before.

“It’s really beautiful here,” I say.

He glances at me, then around his home, taking his time to really see everything, to look at it through the eyes of a visitor or a newcomer. “I’m so used to it, sometimes I forget to appreciate what we have here.” He looks at me again. “Silver Ridge is pretty too, though. I’ve been there before.”

“It’s different from here. We don’t have a lake, and we get more snow and get it sooner than you do. And it’s colder. Although it’s cold as balls here, too.” My body shivers as an icy breeze blows by us, as if to emphasize my point. “See?”

“You don’t like the cold?” he chuckles.

“I am from the San Diego area,” I remind him. “I am used to beaches, canyons, and big cities. To me, ‘cold’ is when you need a hoodie or maybe a cute scarf around your neck. This is… this is arctic temperatures to me.”

He laughs even harder. “Again, I guess I am just used to it.”

I cross my arms to block against the breeze that is picking up into a full wind. “Hmph.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll try to make this quick,” he says, lifting his hands in surrender as we reach the tree line. “Since we’re not in the same pack, we won’t be able to mindlink. After we shift, we’re going to run the perimeter of the lake. There is a man made — or, I guess, a wolf made — path you should be able to find no problem. Just follow that all the way around and back to this spot, and then we’ll be finished for the day.”

I nod and glance around until I see a tree with a trunk large enough to hide my body while I strip before I shift. Nudity is pretty normal for us as wolves, since our clothes rip if we have to shift in a hurry, but it’s just common courtesy to give privacy if you are able to. If the situation allows.

And, as much as I want to see Reid Thomas in the buff, I promised myself I would be on my best behavior today and not act on my dirty thoughts about this sexy as hell male who doesn’t want a mate.

Easier said than done with the way my thoughts about him have been racing every time my eyes land on his delicious body. Which is another reason I decide to take the route of caution and change behind a tree.

I take my shoes and clothes off as fast as I can and shift right away so I’m not naked in the chilly, almost winter air. It’s even colder here under the cover of the trees where the sun doesn’t reach the forest floor.

My bones crack and reset. Gray, white, and tan fur sprouts from my skin, and before I know it, my petite wolf is standing where my human body was just moments ago. I shake out my fur and stretch my legs, then trot around the trunk and back towards Reid.

Who is still in his human form.

I huff and give a small growl, doing my best to convey my annoyance with him, even in my wolf form.

But he is unfazed, his attention fully on my wolf and not on my attitude. He circles around me, his face unreadable and his eyes scanning me, assessing me, and my nerves are back in full force. I want his approval, am eager for it. I need it in a way I haven’t needed approval from anyone in a very long time.

I sit on my haunches and wait, trying to seem patient, even though I am anything but. Each passing second of him staring at my wolf without saying a word adds another butterfly to my stomach and an extra beat of my heart until I’m about ready to explode.

“Beautiful,” he says, just when I think I can’t wait any longer. “No offense, but your alpha is a dumbass.”

With that one word, that one simple sentence, all my doubts and fears dissipate and blow away across the surface of the lake, carried away like dandelion seeds on the wind. My wolf wags her tail at his praise, like some attention seeking pup, and I roll my eyes at her, even though if I had a tail I would wag it too.

He steps closer to me and holds his hand out, hovering it over my head. “May I?”

My wolf nudges his hand with her snout, and before I can stop her, she also gives it a lick with her tongue, and I’m face-palming myself in my head.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he says, laughing and crouching next to me.

His hand strokes the fur on my head between my ears, then glides down my neck to my back. He doesn’t lift his hand, just moves it in one long, gentle stroke, stopping just before my tail. Then he brings his arm back to the top of my head, and repeats the motion a second time, his eyes following the path of his hand the entire time, his movements even slower than the first time.

His brow furrows, and he disappears back into himself as he continues to pet my wolf, lost in his own mind. A shadow passes over those baby blue eyes of his, like a cloud covering the sun in an otherwise clear sky. His hand snaps away from my body and he turns his back to me, storming off behind a bush.

I wish I could sense what he is thinking and feeling. I wish I could mind link him so I could ask him if he’s all right, ask him the reason for his sudden physical and emotional about face.

He strips off his clothes so he can shift, and while the bushes he’s behind hide his lower half, I have a wonderful, unobstructed view of his upper body. The muscles in his back tense and ripple as he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it on top of the bush. And oh my goddess. He looks even better than I imagined when we had dinner together the other night.

There are trees as far as the eye can see, but the only thing I’m interested in climbing is him.

I snap my wolf’s jaws shut, so the saliva pooling in my mouth doesn’t drip out and leave me a drooling mess over this male. This male I can’t even have. This male who I shouldn’t even want.

This male, who is now standing in front of me in his wolf form, staring at me.

I got so caught up in my head and my lustful musings I didn’t even realize he’d shifted and made his way to me.

My wolf perks up under his wolf’s gaze, ears pricking forward and tail wagging again, her snout twitching as she sniffs the air to catch his scent and learn it. Only wolves who are mates can identify each other’s exact scent, but I can detect a hint of something woodsy and spicy. It’s a homey scent, a scent that reminds me of Christmas.

His wolf is large. Larger than mine, of course, but also larger than even a regular male werewolf. His bulky and muscular frame lets other wolves know he holds a high-ranking position in his pack, one he has earned through hard work and through his bloodline. His fluffy, thick fur is a mix of lighter and darker grays, with a touch of white underneath. The heavy coat looks soft and warm, and I want to touch it the same way he touched my wolf, but that will have to wait.

My wolf, however, can touch his wolf.

I urge her forward, and she complies without hesitation, jumping up and prancing over to him, nudging him with her snout and pouncing around him playfully, running in little circles and chasing her tail, and then pausing, waiting to see his reaction.

Little show off.

He just stares at her, watching her with an unreadable expression, his tail unmoving behind him. My wolf walks right up next to him, standing even with him and mimicking his posture, except she turns her head to see him. She has to crane her neck to look up at him, and I can only imagine the impression they make together — his wolf statuesque and serious, and mine, playful, petite, and perky.

He nudges her with his muzzle, then lifts his head and releases a howl, letting us know it’s time to run.

My wolf takes off on a sprint, like she thinks she’s a cheetah or a gazelle, and Reid’s wolf is right on her tail, nipping at her heels to get her to go faster. She lets out a playful yip and picks up the pace, her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth, and I am laughing, filled with energy and excitement as we follow the path around the lake Reid told us about.

Our wolf run is over faster than I would like. I could have easily spent hours out there, running through their lands, weaving in and out of the trees and onto the shore of the lake.

I can imagine it in the summer too, when the weather is warm. I can picture my wolf splashing through the shallows of the lake before heading back into the shade of the trees, the scent of water and pine swirling around me as little droplets fly off my fur with every thud of my paws against the ground.

Reid’s wolf stayed behind my wolf for the entirety of our run around the lake. I know he was observing me and taking mental notes on whatever it was he saw, but having him with me, knowing he was right there, watching my back, put me at ease and made me feel safe. And him following my lead, trusting in me to guide us down the correct path, made it seem more like we were a team instead of cadet and drill sergeant.

I lead us back to our clothes, and we dress in the same comfortable silence that was present during our warm up run earlier in the day. As much as I want to, I don’t let myself sneak anymore peeks at him while he’s dressing. I got some glimpses of him earlier, and if we’re going to continue these trainings, I need to maintain some level of professionalism, need to remember that he’s the teacher and I’m the student.

But his presence mere feet away from me sends sharp pinpricks of awareness into every cell in my body. It takes every ounce of energy I have left to keep my eyes forward, to keep from turning and peering around the trunk of the redwood tree at my back.

“I’ll save all my feedback for the next time we meet,” he says as I walk around the tree once I am dressed again. “It will be better for you to implement the feedback in the moment rather than forget about it and me have to tell you again later.”

I nod and cross my arms as we walk out of the forest side by side. “Right. Makes sense.” We’ve reached the edge of the training field, and I can see my car in the parking lot in front of their log cabin packhouse from where I stand. “You’ll let me know what day?” I ask. He nods, sticking his hands in his pockets, and I nod again too, giving him a tense smile. “I’ll see you later, then.”

I give him a half wave and turn away as slow as I can. My mind knows it’s time to leave, but my body and heart don’t seem to want to comply, both of them complaining and straining as I walk away from him and towards my car. But his deep, compelling voice stops me before I can get too far away.

“Actually, there is something else I need to talk to you about.”