Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Damon nudges me. “I know you’re angry at him. You two are too much like each other, but he is a good man, and he wants to help you.”
“I don’t want to talk about him. I want to talk about you.”
“Tailor came later,” he says. “For quite a few years it was Conroy and I at the port. Tailor showed up wounded. Close to death. He’d lost a fight with an aristocrat from Eclipse City and was planning on dying by the ocean. But we decided not to let that happen. That’s how the three of us ended up together. And now you make four. You’re the best thing to happen to any of us.”
He’s talking quite a lot now, and I am thrilled to listen.
“You’re so nice to me,” I say, feeling those tears pricking my eyes again. I am so emotional, and I am not entirely sure why. I think it’s just the thrill of being spoken to by the man whose voice I imagined I’d never hear.
“I want to be nice to you. I want to look after you for the rest of your life. We all do. And I want to know you. All of you. Including your animal form, if you ever want to show it to me. It’s not an obligation. I’m just telling you I want to see you. All of you.”
I lower my head and shake it. He says that now, but I know he won’t mean it when he sees me. Everybody thinks they are prepared to see something gross, but then they never really are. “You won’t like what I look like.”
“I think I will.”
“You’ll lose respect for me.”
“There is nothing you could do that will make me lose respect for you.”
I laugh. “There are lots of things that should make you lose it for me.”
“Nothing,” Damon says. “Nothing. Ever.”
He is so fierce in his assertion that not believing him would be the equivalent of calling him a liar, and I do not want to call him a liar. I think about it. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to just do what they want. They’re not going to stop asking. They’re only going to keep making it more and more of a thing.
“I know I already asked, but… will you promise to keep talking to me after I shift?”
“Yes,” he smiles. “I won’t give you this and take it away. You will have my voice. I know you need it.”
“What do you mean?” I ask the question in something of a soft whimper. I know exactly what he means. He means he knows I need him. His presence has been reassuring from the beginning, but I need more than that. I need his words. I need all of him, and he’s going to give it.
“I know you need me,” he repeats, running his hand tenderly over my cheek, and pressing a passionate kiss to my lips. I feel my body filling with energy, with desire not only for him, but to please him.
It feels as though the entire world is limited to just the two of us. I look into his eyes, I let his rough, low voice wash over me, and I let myself imagine shifting.
“I haven’t even tried in years,” I tell him. “It’s so embarrassing.”
“You should never be embarrassed to be exactly who you are,” he says.
“Okay. I’m going to try.”
I strip off the light clothes and stand naked in the middle of nowhere. I look up at the moon and I close my eyes and I try to take my wolf form.
Nothing happens.
I will myself harder, desperately urging the animal inside me to manifest herself. I’ve heard all kinds of descriptions of how wolves feel before they shift. Others talk about the way their inner being seems to grow and claim their exterior, the prowling beast inside their souls escaping to take its place in the world. They simply relax, and let the illusion of humanity drop. They embody their true nature. I don’t have any of that. I have my anger. I have my need for revenge. There’s no room for anything else inside me. Not even my true nature.
I have shifted before. It hurts, and I hate it. Most wolves seem to really enjoy taking their animal form, but I’ve always hated becoming furry and sharp and to my mind, unwieldy. There’s just something about the whole turning into a creature thing that I just can’t get used to.
“Fuck,” I curse. “I can’t.”
“It’s okay,” he says. “Relax. If it has been a long time, you might not find it as easy as some.”
“I hate this. I fucking suck. I’m the worst.”
“Baby,” he purrs deeply, pulling me back down to sit in his lap. “I love you, but if I hear you talk like that about yourself again, I am going to spank you so hard you’ll wish Conroy was doing it instead.”