“And how do you propose we do that?”

I swear, if wolves could smile, he would be grinning maniacally.

“By seeing whether or not you can catch me.”

And before I can manage a response, he’s kicking up snow as he makes a mad dash out of the clearing, leaving me teetering alone like a baby deer. Talk about throwing a girl in the deep end with no floaties.

I take one step, and then another, putting one paw in front of the other until it comes easier, until the shakiness lessens and my steps seem surer.

Okay, I think. I can do this. I can.

I see Hunter in the distance, perched on a raised boulder and staring down his nose at me almost as if smirking. I dig my claws into the earth beneath the snow, gearing up to try to run.

As I take off in a sprint, following after the sleek, dark gray of his form that stays paces ahead of me, I can’t help but think he’s sort of gorgeous too.

I never do catch him, but I give it my best effort. I reason that he’s had fifteen years or so to get the hang of this, and it’s perfectly fine that I can’t seem to catch up to him after just one day of practice. Even if it does stir my competitive side.

Hunter seems to be enjoying all of it; he makes playful sounds and a noise that’s suspiciously like the wolf equivalent of a laugh when I get close, only for him to bound off in the other direction, and by the end of our little game of tag, I’m about ready to bite him. Which I’m aware is a thought that would have struck me as highly strange only a week ago.

“This is exhausting,” I tell him.

He trots slowly back and forth a few paces away, looking like the picture of energy. He doesn’t even seem out of breath, while I’m panting like…well, like a dog.

“You get used to it,” he answers.

I make a sound that’s meant to be a snort. “When? When my fur turns as gray as yours?”

I ponder that for a moment, wondering if that happens to wolves. I have so much more research to do, clearly.

“You did good today,” he says. “Really. Shifting for the first time is never easy, but you’re already moving like a natural.” He cocks his head. “How is your sense of smell?”

“Well, if the fact that I can tell there’s some sort of animal over there is any indication, I’d say it’s pretty good.”

He flashes me an actual wolfish grin—something I’ve never heard of outside romance novels—yipping in a way that makes me think he’s laughing.

“Rabbit,” he tells me. “If you’re hungry.”

“I’m not eating a rabbit.” If I could, I would scowl. “How are you so damn fast anyway?”

“Years of practice. You’ll get there.” Another sound that seems suspiciously like a laugh. “Maybe. Eventually.”

I feel my hackles rise. “Maybe I’m just warming up.”

“Sure you are.”

I check the sky where the sun has started to sink, grateful that I told my brothers I wasn’t feeling well. I didn’t mean to stay out this long, but I know they won’t come looking for me since I hinted that it was “female stuff.”

Boys.

I know we should probably head back, but my bruised ego is still sore that I didn’t even come close to catching Hunter. My muscles feel more alive than they ever have, and my body’s so light, it’s almost like it’s poised to take flight. Once you get over the fact that you’ve changed into an actual wolf, it’s pretty amazing, actually.

“Maybe we should go one more round,” I muse.

He snuffles. “Are you that desperate to lose again?”

“Who says I’d lose again?”

“The other three times you tried.”

I let out a little growl, surprising myself.

Hunter notices. “Did you just growl at me?”

“You’re being smug.”

“Of course I am,” he says smugly. “I’m currently undefeated.”

“One more time,” I urge.

His head tilts to look at the sky, noting the same sinking sun I just did. “It will be dark soon.”

“You scared, Grandpa?”

“Of you?” He takes a step closer, imposing his full height on me, which is easy, since his wolf is so much larger than mine. “Hardly.”

“Then I suggest you run,” I all but purr, unsure where the sound comes from.

The thrill of the chase has my blood pumping harder, and I can feel a frenetic energy in my limbs urging me to move, to go, and I’m determined to make full use of it.

Hunter stares down at me for a moment more, then surprises me by leaning in close to press his snout right under my ear. I can feel his breath puffing against my fur as he inhales deeply, and when he pulls away, I can feel my legs get shakier.

“Your scent is off,” he says.

“Stop making excuses.”

“I’m not making excuses, I’m saying that your scent is—”

I can’t ignore the urge to move any longer, taking off at a full sprint as I bound away from him and call out, “Fine, you can chase me this time then!”

I revel in the icy wind that rushes past me as I move as fast as I’m able, the powdery white that kicks up all around me feeling right somehow. Have I ever felt as free as I do right now?

I can hear Hunter behind me, hear him howl his acceptance of my challenge as I continue to run from him, and I can almost sense the way he follows after me. It’s like a disruption in the air, a ripple in the current of my surroundings. Like an old instinct of giving chase, of being hunted.

There’s nothing like it, really.

It doesn’t hit me that I feel strange until I’m weaving between the trees to try to outmaneuver him, but when it does, it spreads like wildfire. I can feel a sort of boiling in my blood, one that makes me hot all over despite the wintery wonderland I’m currently traipsing through. Strangely, it makes me sink deeper into instinct, makes me feel more like a wolf than a person for a handful of moments.

I don’t know what to make of it, but I find that I like it. I like it very much.

Hunter is so close behind that I can practically hear his heartbeat—no, literally, I can hear his heartbeat—but the thought of being captured by him doesn’t upset me, oddly enough. No, as the urges and the heat inside me grow, I find that I want him to catch me. I want him to take me to the ground and prove that he’s stronger, that he’s faster—I want him to—

I yelp when a heavy mass collides with me, the force of it so strong that a sharp tingling sensation spreads through my body, so forceful it feels as if my skin begins to fizz. I roll instinctively against the force of the blow, snarling as a heavy weight moves with me until it settles beneath me.

It takes longer than it should, I think, for me to realize that something is different—my heart is beating so fast in my chest and in my ears that I don’t notice it at first. That I’m looking down at a very human, very naked Hunter currently cradled between my equally human thighs.

I pant as I stare down at him, taking note of his enlarged pupils, his heaving chest—realizing that this urgency I’m feeling…I don’t think it’s only me. Not if the way Hunter is looking at me is any indication.

“You caught me,” I rasp.

I watch his throat bob with a swallow. “I didn’t mean to…pummel you like that. You just—you smell so—”

And for reasons unknown to me, my very being seems to hinge on the end of that sentence.

“I smell so…?”

“You smell like you need me.”

And it doesn’t occur to me until the words leave his mouth that I might. Because all at once—between the urgency and the overwhelming sensation of being completely free for maybe the first time in my entire life—I realize that the throbbing in my skin is even worse between my legs.