Page 31 of Hot Monster Summer

His laugh is a rumbling growl that sends an inappropriate shiver all the way to my toes. “Tonight,” he says, moving closer, his movements fluid and predatory. “I will show you the wolf ways.”

The way he says “wolf ways” makes my mouth go dry. After Oren’s magical forest pleasure, I can only imagine what Kaelen has planned.

“I’ll be ready,” I reply, trying to sound casual rather than eagerly anticipatory.

His nostrils flare, catching my scent. “You’re already keen,” he observes with smug satisfaction. “Good.”

He's gone before I can formulate a snarky response, melting back into the forest.

I spend the day in a state of jittery anticipation, trying to distract myself with painting and writing, but constantly glancing at the clock. After last night with Oren, I have no idea what to expect from Kaelen.

The wolf is more primal, aggressive, and dangerous than the gentle forest guardian.

That thought shouldn’t send a thrill through me, but it does.

By sunset, I’ve changed outfits at least a dozen times, finally settling on jeans and a simple tank top. Practical enough for a trek to wherever his “den” is, but not so practical that it screams, “I’m definitely not expecting wolf sex.”

I’m just putting on my sneakers when a howl cuts through the twilight, long, haunting, and unmistakably calling to me.

“Dramatic much?” I mutter, but my heart races all the same.

Outside, the forest has transformed with the setting sun. The trees cast long shadows, and the first stars appear in the darkening sky. I follow the direction of the howl, moving into the trees with more confidence than I probably should.

The path is different from the one Oren showed me—this one leads away from the heart of the forest, curving around the edge of the lake and up toward rockier terrain. As I walk, I feel eyes on me, tracking my every move. Other creatures too small rustlings in the underbrush, a flash of fur between trees, curious gazes following the human who walks boldly into wolf territory.

Another howl, closer now, guides me onward. The trees thin as the ground slopes upward, giving way to a rocky hillside with scrubby pines. A cave mouth opens on the side of the hill, illuminated by what appears to be firelight from within.

“Hello?” I call, stopping at the entrance.

“Come,” Kaelen’s voice rumbles from inside. “Welcome to my den.”

I step into the cave, blinking as my eyes adjust.

The space is surprisingly cozy—a large fire pit in the center casts dancing shadows on the walls, plush furs cover the floor, and shelves carved directly into the rock hold an eclectic collection of items that span what must be centuries. Old books, antique weapons, carved figurines, and more modern items like a vintage record player share space with natural treasures—perfect feathers, unusual stones, and a deer skull with magnificent antlers.

And there’s Kaelen, standing at the back of the cave, watching me take in his domain. He’s shifted form again—still massive but more human-like now, his gray fur limited to his chest and arms. His face is handsome in a fierce, wild way, and his amber eyes glow in the firelight.

“I’m happy you came,” he says, satisfaction evident in his voice.

“I said I would.” I run my hand over one of the furs. “Nice place you’ve got here. Very… primal chic.”

He huffs what might be a laugh. “The others showed you their domains. It’s only fair you see mine as well.”

I continue exploring, fascinated by his collection. “How long have you been gathering these things?”

“Centuries,” he says, moving closer, his movements fluid and predatory. “I keep what catches my eye.”

The way he says it, looking directly at me, makes it clear I’m now part of that category.

“I brought you something,” he says, reaching behind a rock ledge and producing a bottle of wine and what appears to be meat on a wooden platter. “Humans need cooked meat.”

“You cooked?” I ask, genuinely surprised.

“I’ve lived alongside humans for centuries,” he reminds me, setting the food on a flat stone near the fire. “I’ve learned a few things.”

The meat is venison, seasoned with herbs I don’t recognize, but that perfectly complement the rich flavor. The wine is clearly expensive, though I don’t ask where a wolf-shifter gets vintage cabernet. We eat in companionable silence for a while, the crackling fire and distant forest sounds the only backdrop.

“So,” I say finally, setting aside my empty plate, “you wanted to show me your ‘wolf ways.’ What exactly does that entail?”

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