Eve

His chuckle sends a warm thrill through my system. It's masculine, rough, and proud. The action almost seems intimate, and it takes me off guard. Heat travels up my neck into my cheeks, and I have to force my tail to stop thumping. The images of their beastly hands on me that night cloud my vision. I can't forget how the first one had ripped into me like I was nothing. . . I can still feel the way this man's teeth grazed my throat while in the form of that creature.

Scrambling to my feet—paws—I scurry backward. His brows furrow, and it takes everything in me to stare at the floor instead. "Please, don't."

In that moment, all the warmth is sucked out of his features. The softness to his lips hardens into a firm line, and I'm answered with a sharp nod. In those two movements, I watch him retreat into himself. It fills me with regret, seeing the flicker of hurt in his eyes before it dies. Another action to counter my original assumptions about him. It feels like I'm surrounded by eggshells all over again.

Shifting weight from one paw to the other, I'm thankful the pain and discomfort have left my body. If I weren't a wolf, I would say it feels as if I'm back to my old self.

The longer I stare at him, the more lost for words I am. Deciphering what's rocking around his mind between the events of that night and now is still tricky. On the other hand, he did guide me through the shift. Thanking him should be the first words out of my mouth, turning back to normal the second, and how to get home for the third.

Peeking around him at the cabin, I try to judge the space in wolf-distance.

Could I make it there quicker as a wolf? Can I delay the conversation a bit longer?

The intrigued gleam in his eyes unsettles me, and when it softens after I take a wobbly step forward, it throws me off. It lasts five seconds before I hit the floor. I hear a shuffle and take that as my cue to try again. Three steps and I face-plant. Eight after that, I find a shaky confidence until it solidifies under me.

The proud expression layering his features melts all the words I'd prepared into mush. With a knowing look, he says, "You should be proud, too."

The heat returns to my face. In a way, yes—maybe I should be—for making it through. Although, at the same time, how can I be proud of something I never wanted in the first place?

Not knowing how to respond, I cut to the chase. "Thank you for your help." Pawing at the ground, I turn my line of sight to the cabin. "But. . . how do I turn back?"

He doesn't answer. The stretch of silence puts me on the verge of taking it as a bad sign.

I have a million questions, but I'd rather save them for Ronny once I return to college.

His frown startles me. "Learn to shield your thoughts, little wolf." He doesn't meet my eye this time. "If you wish to turn back, imagine yourself shifting."

Embarrassment slams into me. It's my turn to hide my gaze from him. I shouldn't be, but there's something about him that throws my emotions into a blender. Not only that—I can tell there's more he wants to say but doesn't. I want to know, but I don't dare press the matter. He's already puzzled me enough.

"How. . . how do I get home?" I whisper, insecure about the question and standing in front of him so openly. The drastic height difference doesn't help.

"You can't. Not yet," he states, this time meeting me head-on.

My body grows hot all over—and not in the good kind. My heart thunders in my chest, and my ears flatten. "Why not?"

"I have to monitor you for the next few hours," he counters. "If you have an accident while I'm not around, I won't be able to help you."

The mere mention of the word accident sends a trickle of angst through me, but I bite my tongue. Fighting him on this would be useless, and taking him on altogether is pointless. This guy has more knowledge and experience on his side while I have nothing to bargain with. Maybe I should listen to Ronny and see where I end up.

Releasing a breath, it comes out as a snort. I laugh despite myself. Shaking my head, I meet his gaze, straighten my spine, and shove the anxiety to the back of my mind. "I'm not going to beat around the bush, so let me be clear. I don't want our wires crossed."

His expression doesn't change, nor does he say anything. I don't like it.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I carry on. "I don't know what your intentions are, but since you and that beast attacked me without finishing what you started, and how you're acting now, I want to know." I shake my head, digging my claws into the dirt. "I can't bring myself to trust you. I want to apologise, but I can't—not yet. Not after what happened. But I am grateful for what you have done today."

For once, the brooding man looks like he doesn't have anything to say. When the thought crosses my mind, something snaps him back to the present.

"You're mistaken, little wolf. I never attacked you; it was the opposite." A scowl darkens his face. "My intentions don't matter."

The response hits me like whiplash. Again, my mind returns to the unanswered question: why did he bite me? His response was quick, and dare I say it, sad. Again, it's in his eyes. He can hide it from his face, but his eyes don't lie. But I'm not going to let it suck me in. With a snort, I march toward the cabin.

I'll see if Ronny knows what his problem is—

I stumble as I try to scramble back as a large wolf steps in front of me, cutting off my path. Inhaling deeply, the familiar fragrance of the man wafts from him—fresh water and pine. The scent alone isn't the only clue that it's him. It's those eyes—the same striking emerald.

He looks like me. . . where did his beast form go?

Eyeing him up and down, I can't deny he's a strapping male wolf. Defined muscles in all the right places, built for combat. His fur is stunning—a beautiful shade of burgundy mixed with dark auburn that comes across as a mid-tone brown. Darker streaks speckle his body, and when I lift my gaze, his is pinned on me.

He growls. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To change, and hopefully sleep," I shoot back. "Then I'm going to find a way home. Now, can you move aside?"

A low rumble comes from him as he stalks closer. "Aren't you going to say anything?" he demands, eyes blazing with each step. "I told you what happened, yet you're blowing it off."

I scoff, trying to manoeuvre around him, but he's swift in intercepting me.

"You bit me!" I seethe, catching his attention. "By that account, that's an attack. As for your intentions, if you're not going to answer me, all the more reason for me to get out of here and not care." I growl, the strange noise tickling my throat. The frustration from this morning rises.

They almost killed me. Now I'm cursed to feel my bones break on the night of a full moon. Kai wants nothing to do with me, and I'm going to be stranded here until morning. He expects me to follow along and lose everything that's important to me. If I can show him I'm not going to be messed with—even if it's just a little—I'll be happy.

On my way past, I make sure to knock into his shoulder. The second his teeth graze my hind leg, heat rushes straight to my cheeks. Whirling around, I swipe at him. He easily ducks out of the way and bats my hind leg.

He's mocking me.

Growling, I lash out, trying to land a hit on him, but it ends with me pinned to the floor underneath him. Snapping up at him, he releases a menacing growl of his own. "Calm down, little wolf."

"Get off me! I hate you—I want to go home!" I howl, trying to bite at his legs this time.

The noise he returns scares me to the core. The sensation of his breath fanning the length of my neck pulls a whimper from me. "My little wolf, don't challenge me. You're going to hurt yourself."

Whining, instincts take over, and I drop my head. "P-please let me go. . ."

There's a relieved chuff, then his weight disappears, but not before a tender lick to my neck. Pushing to my feet, I trot back to the cabin with tears blurring my vision. Catching my breath, I slow my thoughts and picture myself as me again. At first, there's a dull ache in my stomach, but it subsides. Nothing happens. I try again, and the tense sensation of my muscles shifting registers, then it vanishes as well. I concentrate on my limbs snapping back to natural angles, only to remain firm.

What's going on? He said it would work!

I can feel my chest tightening, ready to constrict me. Then something deep inside says I'm too tired to attempt another shift. I don't want to stay like this, but if I can't change, I can't push it. What I do know is that I'm not going to speak to that jerk any time soon—not after that stunt.

Stumbling across the floorboards, I spot a makeshift bed of blankets and furs. I'm grateful it's not in the room I awoke in earlier.

Tilting my head, I chuff.

It looks like a nest.

Slumping against the mass, I wriggle beneath the blankets and snuggle into their depths. I shouldn't be surprised his scent is all over them, but I am. It's strong and engulfs me. Sighing, I rest my head on my paws, allowing the smells and warmth to carry me to the brink of unconsciousness.