Page 25

Avery produces a soft sound of triumph when his oversized hands finally undo the knot. Then he turns a wry smile to Sascha. “Just lucky, I guess.”

Sascha makes a mental note to buy Avery some socks, but he keeps the resolution to himself. He offers his hand, now slightly smaller than Avery’s transformed one. Avery accepts it gingerly, looking away when Sascha entwines their fingers. Sascha gives his hand a reassuring squeeze, then wraps his free arm around Avery’s ribs, hauling him into a secure embrace. “Visualize what you did with your hands and try it again with your feet. Any way of making the actual… process… a bit easier on yourself?”

“No. It’s always like that.” Avery shudders. “Maybe it got a little faster after the first few times.”

“Well, let’s aim for precision this time. Try focusing on the changes that need to happen, rather than everything thatcouldhappen. Sometimes, I wish I could adapt my legs into apartial shift that would make running easier. I hate running in biped form; it’s so uncoordinated! But no, it’s either ‘four paws and no pants’ or ‘run like a clumsy oaf.’ Can’t win.”

The prattle draws a laugh from Avery, who relaxes slightly against Sascha’s chest. “I don’t think you’re right to be envious of someone else’s partial shift, considering you get to delicately flutter out of existence and return a majestic beast.”

“Yeah, a majestic beast tangled in his own pants. Let’s go, bud.” Sascha nuzzles behind Avery’s ear. “The faster you get this over with, the sooner we’ll be able to get to other things.” He doesn’t elaborate, but judging from the shudder that runs down Avery’s spine when Sascha teases the shell of his ear with his fangs, they’re both on the same page.

If nothing else, it does go faster. That doesn’t stop the transformation from being just as awful as his hands.

Avery whimpers in Sascha’s arms, clutching his fingers so tight Sascha’s bones grind. Determined not to distract Avery or give him cause for worry, Sascha holds his breath and doesn’t make a sound. Despite his disability, Sascha is still an alpha shifter. He isn’t breakable, even if people treat him like he is.

Sascha kisses Avery’s temple while his feet fracture and bleed. Soft, nonsensical words spill from him, reassurance pressed into Avery’s skin.I’m here. You’re not alone. His lips come away salty with cold sweat.

Finally, it’s over. From the knee down, Avery’s legs have warped, his foot lengthening so his ankles sit higher; it’s probably made him a few inches taller.

Analyzing the whole set of changes—hands, feet, fangs—Sascha nods in satisfaction. Yes, this should make Avery more durable while allowing him to keep control of his thoughts and instincts.

The full moon shift is only four days away. Sascha doesn’t know if this practice will help Avery ride out the night, but hehopes so. Any amount of added comfort will be worth the risk of taking Avery to his mom’s safe space.

Avery pants, face gone white as a sheet, freckles standing out starkly on his sweat-sheened cheeks. Without thinking, Sascha licks the hollow just below his cheekbone. He might have been embarrassed if Avery didn’t turn into Sascha’s touch. For a fragile moment, the only sound is heavy breath and the lake gently lapping at its shore. They nuzzle each other, noses bumping, until Sascha breaks away with a small, relieved smile.

“I’m so proud of you,” he repeats.

This time, Avery doesn’t argue.

Sascha pats his flank twice, then says, “Okay, practice time’s over. Let’s get you cleaned up.” He stands, taking Avery with him.

Avery is initially clumsy on his padded toes, unused to his ankles being so high off the ground. Sascha is delighted to see that Averydidget taller, carving away the inches between them so he doesn’t have to bend as far to drop a kiss on Avery’s lips, the bottom split and red with crusted blood. It’ll heal, but Sascha thumbs at it anyway.

Avery runs a hand through his damp curls, attention drawn to the water. “You want me to wash in the lake?”

“I want you to get in the lake, yeah.” Sascha steps back, waits for Avery to catch his balance, then pulls his blood-spattered tank-top over his head. “It’ll be a good temperature today. Nice way to cool off without being frigid.” Where they’re standing, the ground is shadowed by sprawling branches from the nearby trees, but farther onto the water, the sun’s light plays with the gentle tide.

Sascha toes off his shoes and unfastens his shorts, but stops with them half down his hips when a glance reveals Avery watching him. Trying to smother a teasing grin, Sascha hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his boxer briefs, keeping Avery in his sights as he slides them both down.Avery meets Sascha’s eyes only briefly. The rest of his attention is riveted to Sascha’s naked body. Sascha kicks his discarded clothing away, then folds his arms across his chest.

“My turn, now?” Avery guesses. He doesn’t wait for an answer before stripping his shirt. Sascha never felt a binder under Avery’s shirts, so he’s not surprised to see a flat chest and pale, curved scars.

It’s impossible to miss that Avery is short—only five-foot-four, Sascha remembers from his PROWLR profile. In his baggy farm clothes, it’s easy to forget Avery is also sliver-thin, so slender Sascha doesn’t know how his organs fit inside that narrow ribcage. He looks breakable, like a resin doll with knobby knees and elbows. Sascha knows that Avery is stronger than he looks; he’d have to be to survive a full were-transformation when just a partial change was that violent. Still, seeing his bird bones fills Sascha with the desperate urge to protect him. From anything and everything.

He gets the perfect chance when Avery tries to fight his shorts off, only for them to get caught on his large, clawed feet. Sascha is by his side before Avery loses his balance, extending an arm so Avery can hold on while shuffling the shorts off one leg at a time. The boxer-briefs still clinging to Avery’s thighs reduce him to exasperated laughter.

An itch makes itself known at the back of Sascha’s throat. He clears it, trying not to start coughing in Avery’s face while he’s still clinging to Sascha’s arm. Before Avery can ask if he’s alright, Sascha bends down to gently tug Avery’s underwear down his thighs. He can feel his heartbeat in his ears, and his mouth feels so dry that when he straightens, still holding Avery’s boxer-briefs, he has to turn away to cough for real.

Should he have asked before doing that? Too late now.

When Sascha turns back, Avery is staring at him, a flush high in his cheeks. The large hands and feet look like old horror prostheses glued onto slender wrists and ankles, but the result is oddly adorable.

Forget the damn swim. Sascha wants to touch Averyso badly, but he holds back, merely tilting his head toward the lake. The sun shimmers on the surface, and Sascha follows it, walking until the water covers his knees before cutting under in a smooth dive.

When Sascha surfaces, he’s greeted by Avery clomping awkwardly through the shallows, lifting each clawed foot before plunking it back into the water. He has his arms spread for balance and his freckled nose scrunched in concentration. Sascha doesn’twantto laugh, but he can’t help it. He smothers it underwater, kicking at the sandy ground to propel him to Avery’s side. When he surfaces, Avery blinks surprised, wide eyes, their pale green color turned crystalline in the sunlight. His pupils have contracted to dots, and the effect is so striking it momentarily renders Sascha mute.

There’s still dried blood on Avery’s wrists. Sascha takes one after the other, running wet hands over the spots until the red is gone, leaving only skin that looks modeled from clay, grayish and dusted with black hairs, darker than Avery’s natural brown curls. Compared to Sascha’s lengthened nails, the sharp points at the ends of Avery’s fingers are talons built into his skeleton. Flexing would easily turn them deadly—enough to gut a shifter after a shift, if Avery could move fast enough. If nothing else, Avery should be able to defend himself from Celeste and her pack.

“Thank you,” Avery says quietly, and Sascha knows he’s referring to more than clean hands.