Page 17

CHAPTER

NINE

Avery

Avery should have prepared for this. Celeste said she wasn’t giving up on roping him into her pack, and she hasn’t.

That must be why Beryl has been watching him like prey. Unlike the rest of the werecreatures, they don’t do any work on the farm. They simply hover, just far enough away to preserve plausible deniability, and stare at him with yellow eyes that barely blink.

The shifter supervisors haven’t bothered Beryl, either, which shocked him.

Every time Avery sent a panicked look at one of them, afraid of being punished for Beryl’s antagonism, the supervisors averted their eyes.

During work hours, the farm is overseen with vicious efficiency.

Any conflict that could interfere with productivity is punished harshly.

Off hours, squabbles between the werecreatures are inevitable, but as long as they don’t escalate to full-out fights, the shifters only nudge each other and laugh while they watch.

Getting put back in one’s place by a shifter is humiliating, but even they don’t get too rowdy because they aren’t at the top of the chain. No, the highest level of command lies with the humans and their big fuckoff guns, primed to open fire on anyone who becomes a threat—werecreature or shifter.

The lack of PCC presence in Bliss is odd compared to the bigger cities where they patrol endlessly. Avery doesn’t mind. Being riddled with bullets by a redneck with a superiority complex sounds like a faster death than the ominous unknown of a PCC arrest.

It wasn’t until evening the second day that Avery figured it out.

He was on his way to the main office to grab something from his locker and caught sight of Celeste talking to Beryl outside.

Celeste had claimed her pack was well-established around Wilderness Park; she must have some connection with Farmer Dennings for her subordinate to be allowed to lurk around intimidating one of the workers.

Avery’s suspicions are confirmed when Beryl slides onto the bench across from him during breakfast the day before the full moon. They keep their eyes down while eating silently, but as soon as Avery drops his gaze to his own plate, he feels their dangerous yellow eyes fixed on him.

“What the fuck do you want?” he finally demands, slamming his plastic spork to the worn table.

Beryl leans forward onto their elbows, a smirk shaping their lips. “You’re smart, Avery,” they say in a mocking lilt. “What do you think I want?”

“What your alpha wants?” he guesses.

They blink at him slowly, serenely. “Well?”

“Well, what? Are you still expecting me to change my mind about her offer?”

“No,” Beryl responds. “I don’t think you’re desperate enough yet. But you’ll get there. I’ll be here, waiting for that moment… Unless you’re too stubborn. Your time will run out eventually, Avery.”

Avery bares his teeth weakly, and anger floods his senses when Beryl only laughs.

“You can do better than that, bearcub,” they say .

“Sorry, I’m not getting in trouble over the likes of you.”

Beryl laughs again. “Okay.” They stand, leaving their half-eaten plate. “Throw that away for me, will you? Talk soon.”

Avery clenches his jaw, looking away from Beryl’s carefree swagger.

He grinds his teeth and seethes until the ten minute bell goes off, warning workers of the impending start of their shifts.

Eating isn’t optional, so Avery shoves a sporkful of unseasoned scrambled eggs into his mouth and chews bitterly.

Working in this shit-assed place is already demoralizing enough without being stalked by someone who wants to turn him into some arrogant bitch’s puppet.

Still, when one of the supervisors bellows that it’s work time, Avery grabs Beryl’s plate and throws it away with the remainder of the pancakes he’s too nauseated to finish.

Avery runs. His feet beat the road like he’s trying to bruise it, hoping Sascha’s car is at the rendezvous point just off the Dennings property. Behind, the twisted imitation of a tiger bounds lazily.

Beryl could overtake him easily, but they don’t.

Avery was slipping out the back to meet with Sascha when they appeared in front of him, wearing nothing but a thin shirt that only just reached their mid-thigh.

The full moon isn’t out yet, so he was taken by surprise when their bones began to crack in a precocious transformation.

Their spine had extended hideously, putting an arch in their shoulders until thick, bloody vertebrae burst through the skin of their back, tearing the shirt down the middle.

There had been just enough time to wind around them during the rest of their shift and get a slight head start before Beryl stabilized enough to give chase.

If Beryl had wanted to kill him, they could have done so easily.

Avery doesn’t have time to shift. Even if the ursine freed itself enough to force his own early transformation, Beryl could have easily taken advantage of the seconds in which Avery’s skin was thinned and stretched over his bloating organs before the mutant tissue and hair filled in.

Gutting him in seconds would be as simple as a swipe of their massive paw.

But they don’t want to kill him—only terrify. A cheap attempt to smoke him out, make him desperate enough to accept Celeste’s offer.

He won’t. Avery isn’t anyone’s pet, not even Sascha’s. Though if he had to pick…

A few paces later, Avery scents something familiar, and then a smudge in the distance resolves into the shape of a tall blond leaning against a tiny hatchback.

Sascha is already on alert, surveying the tree line next to him.

Avery’s lungs are too tight to call out, but Sascha spots him a moment later.

When he registers the mutant anthro-tiger loping after him, the change in his demeanor is instantaneous.

He drops his phone, rips off his shirt, and shifts right there on the anemic weeds beside the road.

Sascha’s shifted form is big for a cougar, but nothing compared to Beryl’s mass.

All the same, Sacha bounds toward them, teeth bared and hackles raised.

Avery keeps running, but Beryl stops. They rise up onto their back legs, hunched and snarling.

Sascha inserts himself between Avery and the larger, scarier feline and hisses like a wild mother with cubs.

Avery banks, sliding in the dry dirt as he turns to face them. He’s ready to rip off his own clothes and start that full moon transformation after all.

A grating feline scream bursts from Sascha’s throat. It hurts Avery’s ears and, oddly, makes him want to roll over in… fear? No. Avery isn’t afraid of Sascha, but he doesn’t know how else to describe the sensation.

Sascha’s eyes take on a pale yellow glow, and he screams again, the sound holding a different weight .

A shudder runs down Beryl’s unnaturally long spine.

They take a step back, ears flattening, and spend several moments considering Sascha, as if unsure whether to back down or push through.

Finally, a very human snort puffs from their nostrils.

With a shake of their heavy, striped head, Beryl turns and stalks into the forest, twisting like a snake through the dense trees.

The sudden stillness leaves Avery panting, brow furrowed as he tries to make sense of whatever influence Sascha is wielding.

His fingers prickle, and when Sascha turns his gaze to Avery, the sensation grows into something desperate.

Avery still can’t put it into words, but the image of him on his back with Sascha hovering above becomes sharp in his mind.

Like the difference between sunset and sunrise, the large cougar’s expression shifts.

His ears perk up, and his eyes go wide, complementary blue-gold catching what’s left of the sky’s light.

Sascha pads toward Avery, purring loudly, and rubs himself against the leg of his jeans.

Avery strokes his smooth head, shivering.

The mental image of being beneath Sascha ripens into a velvety warmth that leaves Avery feeling so unbelievably safe.

Understanding washes over him.

This is a taste of alpha magic—the kind he allegedly has but can’t fathom wielding. How could someone like Avery, small and unsure, ever make another person feel this protected? Not to mention command the retreat of a beast like Beryl.

Avery’s phone pings. It’s his eight o’clock alarm, which will give them just enough time to get to the section of Forgotten Lake where Avery will post up for the night, contained during his involuntary shift.

The location should keep him safe from other wandering werecreatures, and all other people and animals safe from Avery himself.

“We gotta go,” he says to Sascha, scratching behind his ears. “I don’t have much time. ”

Sascha doesn’t shift back. He merely paws at the car door, waiting for Avery to open it for him.

Then he jumps into the passenger seat, sitting like he’s still a person.

Avery chuckles quietly as he gathers Sascha’s clothes and tosses them on the back seat.

He has to adjust the seat to accommodate his short stature from Sascha’s long legs, and when he’s done, he pauses.

“How am I gonna find that damn lake while you can’t talk, Sascha?”

The cougar wiggles in his seat, adjusting so he can paw at the window, leaving giant bean-prints on the glass as he indicates the direction in which Avery should turn. Avery dissolves into damn near hysterical laughter.

“Taking driving instructions from a cat. Alright, let’s go.” He laughs even more when Sascha nips at his sleeve, then puts the car in drive and eases onto the road.