Page 102 of Fool Moon First Aid

“Got it,” Tyler replies with mock solemnity. “Anything else I should know?”

Realizing I should intervene before Eloise reveals some random, deep dark secret from freshman year of college, I stand and make my appearance.

“There she is!” Eloise beams, her vibe unshaken by the early hour. “I’m spending the day with my dads, so don’t wait up. You know the codes to get in.” She sweeps me into a brisk hug before darting off to her room.

“She’s…” Tyler begins, searching for the right words.

“She’s Eloise,” I interject, seeing her as perfect as ever. “Ready to go?”

“Absolutely.” Tyler stands there, looking effortlessly handsome in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt that accentuates his eyes—a striking shade of green.

“And where might we be heading?” I inquire.

“That,” he says, winking, “is a surprise.”

I hum softly as we leave the apartment building. Tyler’s hand guides me gently toward his car, his touch sending a warm shiver down my spine. He opens the passenger door with a gallant flourish, and I’m greeted by the cozy blast of the heater as I buckle up.

Tyler keeps stealing glances my way as he drives, clearly concerned. “What’s on your mind?” he probes, playing a nervous rhythm with his thumbs on the steering wheel.

Caught off guard, I muster up a vague response. “Just thinking,” I murmur, thoughts of my dad swirling in the back of my mind.

“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice carries softness and warmth, yet beneath it, I can feel the swirl of our complicated feelings. Our relationship seems mismatched, like we’re puzzle pieces from different boxes trying to fit together. Despite this, my draw to Tyler and this unexpected moment of my life is too strong to deny. Ignoring this bond, this deep-seated connection, feels like denying a part of myself. It’s a thought that aches to even entertain.

“Maybe,” I say, clinging to the middle ground. “Where are we going?”

The scenery shifts as he drives south, toward the edge of clan lands. My father’s house lies only a few miles from here, a thought that sends a shiver down my spine. Tyler’s playful secrecy only adds to the anticipation. “It’s a surprise,” he teases, pulling onto a gravel driveway and parking in an improvised spot marked by years of use.

“This is the forest,” I observe, casting a doubtful look his way. “I don’t see a restaurant anywhere.”

“Okay, hear me out,” Tyler says, killing the engine and turning to face me, his nervousness palpable. “I had this idea…” He trails off, rubbing his neck. “What if we shift and hunt for our lunch?” The words rush out like a cascade of nerves and excitement.

“Like raw meat?” The concept triggers a visceral reaction in me, but I push it aside, intrigued despite myself.

“Yes, like raw meat,” he replies, rolling his eyes, “and maybe I can teach you how to shift seamlessly between forms.”

The offer is unexpected yet strangely fitting, a nod to the shifter life I’m still getting used to—an identity I was unaware of until recently.

“What could go wrong?” I whisper to myself, the decision made. “All right,” I announce, stepping out of the car without waiting for Tyler. The forest greets me like an old friend, its visage more vivid and alive than ever before. Without the veil of my human perception, every color, every scent is intensified.

“Letting your spiritkin through is overwhelming at first,” Tyler remarks, joining me. His presence anchors me amid the rush of new sensations.

“Will you teach me?” I ask, hope coloring my voice.

His responding smile is everything—roguish and filled with wonder. “I’d love nothing more, butterfly,” he says, moving to the trunk to retrieve what we need. “Now strip,” he instructs.

Rolling my eyes, I follow his lead and start by shedding my jacket, all while Tyler peels off his shirt. I avert my gaze deliberately, knowing all too well the distraction his body poses—a distraction I can ill afford at the moment. I really want to learn to shift.

Piece by piece, my clothes join his on the forest floor—shirt, shoes, socks, and pants—until I’m exposed to the cool air in just my bra and panties.

“All your clothing, butterfly,” Tyler prompts, glancing up at me briefly as he slips off his boxers, his body revealing nothing of the shyness I feel.

I turn away quickly, my mind racing with memories of our closeness, each more intoxicating than the last. Caught between hesitation and defiance, I let go of the final barriers, my clothes joining his in a silent declaration of readiness.

“I can smell your arousal,” Tyler comments nonchalantly, closing the trunk.

“Shift, and maybe later…” I throw back, daring a glance at his form, my bravado a thin veil over the racing pulse beneath my skin.

“Promises, promises,” he teases, closing the distance with a confident stride. “Okay, close your eyes.”

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