Almost Feral

CONNOR

I tore through the trees, following her scent as if it were a flickering thread in the cold air.

The wind worked against me, scattering, twisting, and dragging it up into the canopy. But I knew her well enough now to recognize her exact flavor—that wild vanilla and mint and lavender—even beneath the acrid tang of panic.

She was close, and I slowed down as soon as I caught sight of her.

In a clearing about fifteen yards in front of me, she was crouched low, her massive black form trembling and head turning toward every sound. Her ears were pinned, her tail was low, and she was ready to strike.

~Fuck~. ~I should’ve known better~, I thought, taking in her feral, defensive stance. Of course this had been too much too fast. She’d been alone her whole life. Her wolf wasn’t ready for the chaos of a pack run. She wasn’t trained for closeness, for trust.

Stepping out through the underbrush, I moved slow and kept my head down. The last thing I wanted to do was come off as a threat. In an effort to calm her, I gave a low chuff.

But before I could bring my eyes up to meet her gaze, she lunged.

Her weight slammed into me, and I went with the momentum. I allowed my body to go slack as I hit the earth hard, rolled onto my side, and exposed my throat. I didn’t fight back, and my wolf submitted to her, his ears flat and body still.

She didn’t seem to notice.

Her jaws closed around my neck, and pain bloomed bright, hot, and real.

~She doesn’t know it’s me!~ The realization came too late, and I started to panic. I started to worry that I’d have to defend myself.

She clamped down harder, and when her fangs bit into my flesh, I howled.

In an instant, she released me and jumped back. She whimpered, curling low to the ground, her head tucked between her front legs. Shame radiated off her, smoke without fire.

I stood slowly. Blood dripped down my fur until the healing kicked in, sealing the punctures as if they’d never happened.

Shit, I hadn’t seen that coming. It rattled me more than I cared to admit, but she was clearly rattled too.

Carefully, I approached again—no anger, no retaliation. I lowered my head, and she didn’t move, only watched me. Our noses touched before a comforting purr vibrated from my chest to hers. Her ears finally lifted, and our cheeks met as we nuzzled.

I licked her ear, and she nipped at mine. Detecting playfulness, I nudged her off balance and danced away. She stumbled and let out a yip of surprise, and her eyes brightened with mischief before she launched herself in my direction.

Once again, after I turned and ran, she followed.

We tore through the woods side by side, our strides perfectly matched. She’d found the rhythm. Her fear seemingly had melted into something new: trust.

The lights from the pack house glimmered through the trees ahead. We slowed, and I shifted midstride. She followed a heartbeat later. We stood naked in the undergrowth, panting, laughing, and grinning like euphoric teenagers.

My chest ached in the best possible way. I reached for her without thinking, wrapped my arms around her, and pulled her in. Her damp skin was hot against mine, and her breaths were still ragged.

Then, she stiffened. Her hands flew up to cover her face. “I bit you! I ~bit~ you! Connor, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know—I didn’t recognize! I completely lost control—”

“Willow,” I said, cutting her off. When she looked up at me, horrified, I tilted my head and showed her my neck. “See? Already healed. Smooth skin. No scars. Not even a bruise.”

As if she couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing, she gaped. “But I…” Eventually, she blinked, and her eyes filled with something between disbelief and cautious hope.

Unable to stop myself, I kissed her. I’d intended it to be soft and gentle, a question. But the second our lips met, the mate bond roared to life between us.

Everything flared: heat, want, and need.

My hands slipped to her waist before running back up her spine. Her breath caught as her breasts brushed my chest, and I stifled a gasp when her hips met mine—specifically, when her stomach met a certain member of mine that had roared to life.

Which I knew she felt because she made a strangled, startled little noise, laughter tangled up with shock.

I dragged my fingers down her body, and right when I reached the dimples in her lower back, voices, footsteps, and high-pitched shouting broke through the trees. We both jumped apart as if struck by lightning.

A small pack of kids galloped past us a few meters away, laughing and shrieking and throwing sticks.

Willow glanced down between us. Back up. Then down again. And the exact moment her brain caught up with her body, her eyes widened to the size of moons.

She was absolutely mortified.

And yet, a flush rose across her cheeks that didn’t look like only embarrassment. “Guess we’re not as alone as we thought,” she mumbled, turning quickly toward the nearby clothes cache, but she didn’t get far.

I caught her hand and spun her back to me. She gasped, but I didn’t let go. “Spend the night with me,” I said. “Please.”

WILLOW

His request puzzled me. But something in his expression—the way he watched for my reaction, the tension around his eyes—suggested a heavy implication behind the simple words.

I stared at him, trying to understand. “Spend the night with you?” I echoed. “Here? In the woods?”

Connor’s lips twitched into a smile. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners, and he chuckled, low and warm. “No.” He shook his head. “Not out here. In the pack house. Tonight. Would you want to, just, be with me?”

“The whole night?”

He nodded, his eyebrows rising in a question.

“Oh.” That sounded harmless enough. Maybe he didn’t want to be alone. Or maybe he thought I shouldn’t be. My wolf liked the idea and curled closer to him in my chest with a pleased huff, content at the thought of shared space and warmth. “Yeah. Sure.”

With his hand warm and steady around mine, we padded across the grass toward the clothes cache. My limbs felt foreign and loose, borrowed from someone else’s body. Which, in a way, I guess I had borrowed them—from my wolf.

We dressed quickly, stealing glances, bumping elbows, and swapping grins. My pulse hadn’t calmed down since the kiss, and it only got worse when he stepped close to grab his shirt and brushed against me again.

Once we were clothed and decently human, he reached for my hand. I didn’t pull away. My fingers slipped into his naturally, as though we’d done it a thousand times.

The path to the pack house was quiet except for the crickets, the wind rustling through the treetops, and the angry voice of a parent wrangling those wayward pups. The moonlight painted everything in silver and blue.

I glanced sideways at him as we walked. “So, what will we do all night?”

Connor tilted his head, giving me that small, slow smile that made it hard to think straight. “I have some ideas.”