The shifter’s brows come together and he forces his eyes open. As soon as he sees me, he reaches for my hand. “You’re healing me?” he echoes.

I give his grip a squeeze. “Yeah.”

A muffled wet sound comes from his body as my power repairs something. Kane makes a pained low growl.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “So sorry.” Not just for the pain my magic is bringing him—pain he might be able to manage if he could shift and heal himself—but also for the fact I brought this upon him. I’ve known Memnon is a threat ever since he first confronted me.

A threat I kissed only minutes ago.

Ugh, what is wrong with me?

Kane closes his eyes. “I just want to know”—he swallows—“that you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, Kane. As long as you’re okay, I will be too.”

His hand squeezes mine.

You touch that boy, and he dies. Slowly.

I draw in a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves because I have been touching that boy, and screw that sorcerer because I will keep touching him until he’s better. I want to rip Memnon apart from shoulder to hip. The fucking audacity he has to threaten me.

Kane’s eyes flutter. “Who was that who attacked us?” he asks, his voice hoarse. “And how did you get away?”

I glance over at the tree line, my skin still tingling from all the places Memnon touched it.

“It’s a long story,” I say. “He’s”—I was a king and you were my queen—“an old enemy.”

Briefly his eyes slide to my familiar, who stares back at Kane with a bored expression, as though he’d rather not be here. Which, he probably really would like to return to harassing cute little forest creatures, or whatever it was Nero was doing in the Everwoods.

I face my familiar. “You can go back to the woods, if you’d rather not stick around,” I say.

Nero tears his gaze away from the shifter to look at me for several long seconds. I don’t know what the look is supposed to mean, but the big cat proceeds to step into my space and rub his body against my own, his tail sliding along my neck as he does so.

Once he’s done, Nero prowls away, retreating into the darkness and leaving me and Kane alone.

The shifter returns his attention to me, and I think that maybe he’s going to comment on Nero, but instead, he says, “How does someone as nice as you”—the shifter sits up, grimacing a little as he does so—“have enemies?”

I wrap an arm around Kane’s back as he sways a little. “You okay?” I ask, ignoring the question.

The lycanthrope grits his teeth. “Good enough—thanks to your magic.” He sits up. “You can stop healing me now. I’ll do the rest myself.”

I do stop, the tendrils of my power snaking back into me. All that’s left of my effort is the unnerving throb of it beneath my skull.

“Do you still have your phone on you?” he asks.

I nod.

“Good,” he says. He leans forward, getting on his hands and knees, his blond hair hanging a little in front of his face. “Call the Politia and report this.”

I don’t think Kane used any magic in the order, but I feel a strange compulsion to promptly do as he says.

Maybe that’s why I hesitate. Or maybe it’s that I don’t really believe the Politia is going to stop some ancient sorcerer from doing as he pleases when it comes to me.

Kane’s pauses to gaze at me. “Selene, please. Call them. This man can’t think to abduct you from your home whenever he wants.”

He has a point—and that’s not even touching on the fact this same man threw Kane from a three-story window.

“Okay,” I say quietly.

The shifter’s back ripples in a way that’s not natural, and he groans. “If you’re squeamish about nudity,” he bites out, “you may want to look away.”

I feel a pang of regret that this topic even has to come up. If Memnon hadn’t been the world’s biggest cockblocker, this man would be several inches deep in me and I would have seen every last bit of him.

I sigh regretfully.

I don’t turn away, but I do use the moment to pull out my phone from my boot and call the Politia.

“Hi, this is Selene Bowers. I’d like to report a break-in and an assault at the Henbane Coven residence hall …”

My words die away as, out of the corner of my eye, I see Kane’s form shift. I nearly drop the phone as pelt replaces bare skin, and Kane’s face extends, his teeth sharpening, a snout replacing his nose. His hands and feet become paws, and his torso narrows and rounds.

When it’s done, all I can see of Kane in this animal are my crush’s ice-blue eyes, and even those…those eyes don’t look human.

Holy shit, I have to blink several times to make sense of the wolf standing before me. I go still as its gaze locks on mine.

“Hello, miss? Miss? Miss?” the officer on the line says.

“Please come quickly,” I breathe, and then I end the call.

I don’t move. It’s all I can do not to panic as I stare down a larger-than-life gray wolf.

The animal sniffs the air in my direction, and why, oh, why did Kane decide to shift right next to me? And why did I not have the good sense to get the hell away from him before now?

The werewolf approaches me, and he’s still scenting the air like I’m his next meal.

“Don’t,” I say, putting power behind my voice. I don’t know how much of Kane the man is in control of Kane the animal’s mind.

The wolf stops, his ears flicking, and he shakes out his head like he can throw off the magic.

Just as I’m bracing for him to approach me again, shifter magic thickens around the wolf, and then the transformation is happening all over again but in reverse—limbs lengthening and widening, fur retreating—until a very naked Kane is on the ground on all fours, panting from the exertion. I can see his muscles trembling from the effort, and his skin is covered in a sheen of sweat.

“Sorry,” he says. His voice is more of a growl than anything else. He clears his throat. “I wasn’t thinking. I forgot you weren’t”—he glances up at me—“pack.”

I exhale. I think that was supposed to be a compliment, but considering the fact I nearly shit my pants a few seconds ago, I’m having mixed feelings about the entire thing.

Why does every supernatural have to be so damn scary?

“Lycanthropes don’t hunt humans,” he adds. “Not, at least, to kill.”

When then would a wolf shifter hunt a human?

I’m not brave enough to ask.

Instead, I nod. “How are your wounds?”

“Better,” Kane says, sounding more like himself. He grabs his clothing and begins to put it on. “I think I’m almost completely healed. One more shift should do the trick, but I’ll do that back on pack lands.”

I give him a small smile.

I can hear sirens in the distance. Must be the Politia.

Once Kane is dressed—well, mostly dressed, as he’s still shirtless—he comes over and sits at my side, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. His embrace is so comforting that I can’t help but lean my head against him, Memnon’s threat be damned.

“I think we’re doomed to just be friends,” I say softly, hating the admission but feeling the truth of it.

“What?” Kane looks down at me. “Is this about that asshole?”

I nod against him. There’s no point in lying.

He’s quiet for a moment.

“And is that what you want?” he says, frowning. “To just be friends?”

I take a deep breath. “I don’t know what I want,” I say wearily. “I do know that I was ready to have really fun, wild sex with you.” I’m not even embarrassed to admit it at this point.

“That’s not off the table,” Kane cuts in, skimming his lips along my temple.

Those lips feel wrong there. Fuck, why do they feel wrong there? I want to carve out my own thoughts because they’re all twisted up.

I straighten, pulling away a little from the shifter. “The man who attacked you, he’s…been stalking me, and he’s made it clear he’ll hurt you if we do anything more.”