Page 19 of Enemy Wolf

Unless I got her out of our system first.

I went around behind the lodge, away from the main road and any possible onlookers. Shifters and, for the most part, witches, didn’t bat an eye at nudity, but Vargmore had a sizable human population too, and some of them were weird about it. Sawyer’s mate still covered her eyes when males stripped down to shift because she had been raised as a human.

For me, it was the reverse. It took a while before I’d gotten used to wearing clothing and seeing others wear it all the time in their human skins.

After stripping down and tying my clothes and shoes into a tight bundle, I called my wolf forward and allowed the shift to take over. My eyesight dulled while my senses of smell and hearing dialed up way past human ability. The first thing I did was lift my snout to the air, hoping to catch notes of citrus and spice.

And just as quickly, I brought my head down and pressed my nose into the dirt. The scent of earth, grass, some of my packmates, and a raccoon, filled the space I had momentarily wanted to fill with Shiloh’s scent.

That was all it was. A temporary lapse in judgment. Wolves were so scent-focused. She was merely the first pleasant smell my animal brain sought out.

I grabbed my clothing bundle in my jaws, then stuffed it into one of the cubby-hole shelves lining the back wall of the lodge. Someone, probably Derric, had built these shelves years ago for exactly this reason.

Once my clothes were secure, I was off, four silver paws flying over the forest floor.

I had no destination in mind, no scent trail to follow. But I ran like something was chasing me, like the image of Shiloh’s face in my mind, lit up by moonlight, was something I could escape.

She stayed with me though, ever present as I ran. I came to a stop at a trickling stream, throwing my head back to let my wolf howl before continuing on my run.

He wanted to go to her, turn in the direction of Stout & Spirit to see what the pretty witch was up to. Maybe she would have a meal with us or rub our belly.

No, I ordered. We will only protect her from afar.

My wolf grunted and snuffled out his disagreement but didn’t fight me for control. I should have known trying to appease him with the security cameras wouldn’t have been enough. If I gave him an inch, when it came to Shiloh, he would take the whole damn road.

No more, I told my wolf, myself. She doesn’t want us. She doesn’t even like us.

She likes me, my animal huffed.

Yeah, too bad he and I were a package deal.

I spent the morning venturing deeper into the woods, looping around to the north side of the territory. Sawyer’s cabin was around here somewhere, the one he built and lived in even when he was single. I envied him sometimes, that he could just get away from the lodge and the pack whenever he wanted to. Also that he had no problems socializing with others despite being a massive introvert as well. That was where he and I differed.

I brought my nose to the ground, seeing if I could pick up Sawyer’s scent so I could steer clear of his personal territory. He probably wouldn’t care if I was nearby but still, I didn’t want to intrude if he and his mate were at home.

I walked leisurely as I scented the ground, muscles aching slightly from all the running. Out of nowhere, a scent trail grabbed my nose and pulled it like a magnet.

My tail started whapping back and forth. Happy high-pitched growls and barks left my throat. Citrus and spice filled my nose, my lungs, my brain.

Shiloh was nearby.

My wolf was practically fucking dancing, my front paws tapping an excited rhythm on the ground.

Moon be damned, was there no getting away?

Unable to help myself, I glued my nose to her trail and inhaled deeply. There was something else with her scent. Not the sour fear I’d smelled earlier, but something negative, along that vein. It was less pronounced, more of an undertone. Stress or frustration, maybe?

I tried to back away from the scent trail, but my wolf would not be deterred. He fought me hard, snapping his jaws and growling at what he saw as my short-sighted human consciousness.

Our witch is in distress. We must protect her.

She’s fine, I reasoned. Besides, another packmate is nearby. The enforcer will protect her.

Shit, wrong thing to say. A growl rattled up through my throat and ribs. My wolf was not pleased at the idea of another male protecting our witch. That was our job, no one else’s.

I took off running, following Shiloh’s trail, and it might as well have been the full moon for all the control I had, which was precisely none. Only she had ever gotten this reaction out of him, driving the animal’s instincts to override the man’s.

Not even my years as a feral shifter had prompted my wolf to take so much control outside of a full moon.

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