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In place of a response, Avery cries out in pain. Something in his wrist cracks, followed by the other. His trembling hands swell, knuckles popping and bulging. It looks as if Avery’sfingernails have begun to lengthen, but then Sascha is nauseated when he realizes that the slender bones of each digit are shifting beneath his skin. Sascha’s horrified noise clashes with Avery’s when the tips of his fingers burst open, blood leaking down his palms as his skeleton forces through the too-tight skin.

Avery’s cuticles swell, the knucklebone repositioning itself where his fingers once ended. There’s a sucking sound, and Sascha doesn’t have time to look away before, one by one, Avery’s existing nails pop off under the pressure. The exposed skin splits, blood spattering so far several droplets cut a slice across Sascha’s blue tank-top.

Paralyzed, Sascha watches thick claws ease through the torn gaps, raw, red tissue following, wrapping around the naked bone. Skin comes next, darker than Avery’s normal complexion, sewing itself to the bloodied mess of his hands just in time for dark hair to sprout from the back of his wrists and knuckles.

Then it stops. Avery falls to his knees with a moan, smearing blood across his shirt when he cradles his hands against his chest.

CHAPTER

EIGHT

Sascha

“Holy shit,” Sascha whispers, only peripherally aware of his body shaking like a sparrow in a hailstorm. “Avery… Avery, fuck. Are you okay?”

When Avery doesn’t respond, Sascha makes peace with potentially losing some blood or intestines if he startles the distressed werecreature in front of him into attacking. He eases forward, knowing Avery wouldn’t hurt him on purpose, but werecreatures aren’t known for being stable at the best of times, and Avery himself admitted to not having control over his transformation.

The thought makes Sascha slow, still a few feet away from Avery’s crouched form. If Avery didn’t have control over himself, why would only his hands have changed? And yes, the change was horrible to witness, but he’s neither gone wild with violent rage, nor has he continued to transform past what he intended to do. Sudden excitement—andpride—prickles the back of Sascha’s neck.

“Avery,” he says, repeating his name to keep him grounded. “You did it.” Sascha lowers himself beside Avery, no longer worried about a wild attack.

A soft, weepy sound escapes Avery’s throat, but he doesn’t fight when Sascha pulls his balled-up form into his arms. His eyes stay closed, hands turned inward and fisted against his chest.

Sascha strokes Avery’s hair, letting him adjust at his own pace. The loose ringlets shudder around his fingers. “I didn’t know how bad transforming was for you. This is the first time I’ve ever seen a werecreature shift, and I’m sorry I wasn’t more prepared. I should’ve watched a video or something. Fuck, but you did it. Maybe partial shifting won’t be as easy for you as we hoped, but you kept your head on your shoulders. That’s good to know, right? I’m proud of you, Avery.”

The last bit is when he finally stirs. Avery tucks his hands, now almost too big for his slender arms, into his armpits. He remains hunched, but tentatively meets Sascha’s eyes. “How can you be proud of this?”

“Because none of the scary parts were your fault,” Sascha says, wiping sweat from Avery’s brow. “And you did what we set out to do. Do you want to try more?”

Avery’s jaw drops. “More?After that?!”

“I mean, we only covered your hands and teeth. Doesn’t turning into a bear take up just a bit more than that?”

“Yeah, but…”

With a quick dip, Sascha presses his lips to one of Avery’s temples, then the other. He studies his face afterward, smiling to see familiar color rising in Avery’s cheeks.

Avery rubs the ball of his hand against his eye, which has gone glassy. “Goddamnit, Sascha.”

“Let’s try your feet,” Sascha says, sparing Avery the threat of a heavy emotional moment. “You have claws and teeth, but that won’t be enough to defend yourself from an attack.”

“I guess.” Avery’s voice is thick and choked, but he swallows hard and blinks several times.

Sascha moves without calling attention to it. “Let’s do itlike this.” He adjusts so he’s sitting on his heels, then positions Avery in front of him, back snug against Sascha’s chest. “Might wanna take off your shoes.”

“Like this? Sascha, are you trying to get me to rip your face off?” Avery reaches for the laces of his boots all the same, only hesitating a moment when he sees his transformed hands.

“You won’t do that,” Sascha says with full confidence.

“I can’t promise anything.”

“Technically, no. But I don’t believe you’ll hurt me. In fact, I think it’ll be easier if you have someone here, with you, so you aren’t…”Scared. Hurting. Alone. “Unbalanced.”

Avery tosses one boot to the side, then works on the next. Sascha blinks down at his foot, appalled to see he isn’t wearing socks. “You’re in leather bootsbarefoot?”

“Yeah,” Avery says, brow furrowing as he fights the knotted laces.

“How do you not have hundreds of blisters?”