Page 24

Tala stirred awake and blinked her eyes open.

The pale, silvery-blue light of dawn filtered in through the window and the glass door leading to the balcony.

Slowly, her senses sharpened, and she took stock of the situation.

Her arm was draped over Faith’s waist as if it were the most natural thing in the world. One hand cradled the gentle curve of her belly, and her breasts pressed against Faith’s back. Faith’s hair tickled her nose, and every breath Tala took filled her lungs with that intoxicating milk-and-honey scent.

So that had really happened—she hadn’t just dreamed it. She had played personal heating pad for a human all night.

For Faith.

And Faith had let her.

Probably because she’d had no idea how tempted Tala had been to slide her hand lower, to stroke more of that incredibly soft skin and find other, more pleasant ways to ease the cramps.

But Faith wasn’t merely a passive participant. Even in her sleep, she still had her hand on top of Tala’s, trapping it against her belly. Despite her insistence that she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep with Tala plastered against her back, she had nodded off almost instantly. At some point during the night, she had slid her cold feet onto Tala’s side of the bed, against her warmer limbs, as Tala had predicted on their first fake date.

Back then, she would have never in a million years imagined their bodies would fit together like this, yet they did. They were even breathing in the same rhythm, and it was freaking Tala out!

Their relationship was supposed to be a charade. But deep down, she knew putting her hand on Faith to ease her cramps hadn’t been about their scheme. No one was around to watch them, and yet here they were, tangled together in a bed that smelled of their combined scent, looking like a newly mated couple!

Shrill alarms blared in the back of her mind. Her Saru instincts screamed at her to be careful and keep her guard up.

Faith hid her own secrets, just as Tala did. So what if she had the softest skin Tala had ever touched and this incredible scent that made Tala want to sniff and nibble and lick her all over?

That was only hormones.

And if her Saru training had taught Tala one thing, it was to control her hormones because they regulated the shifting process.

Shifting. Yeah. That was exactly what she needed—an early-morning run through the forest in her animal form. That would help her clear her mind.

Carefully, she slid her hand out from beneath Faith’s and extricated herself from the tangle of limbs.

Faith grumbled in her sleep.

As Tala slipped out of bed, she cuddled against the warm spot where Tala had been.

Tala didn’t stop to watch her or to get dressed. She would strip off her clothes in a minute anyway.

Barefoot, she padded downstairs and left the house.

The air up here in the mountains was crisp and cool even at the end of April. Wisps of mist drifted around the bottom of dogwood, oak, and maple trees, while dawn cast a warm glow over the treetops. She inhaled the fresh aroma of pine and wildflowers until it drowned out the lingering scent of milk and honey.

The forest called to her, so she broke into a light jog.

Dew clung to the grass, and a chill seeped into her skin as she crossed the lawn toward the forest, reminding her of Faith’s cold feet against her own.

She snarled and tore her pajama top up over her head, impatient to get lost in the simplicity of being her animal self and get rid of the annoying thoughts that plagued her in her humanoid form.

Within seconds, she shed the remainder of her clothes and draped them over a branch.

The cool air nipped at her bare skin as she crouched on the forest floor.

She called up the mental image of her fox form, visualized its orange-reddish pelt, the white bib along its throat and chest, and the black “socks” on its lower legs.

A tingling, burning sensation swept over her skin as the tiny hairs along her forearms and legs lengthened. Fur rippled down her back.

Then came the pain—it surged through her joints and face. The searing pressure in her skull brought tears to her eyes. Her groan turned into a high-pitched whine as her mouth and nose morphed into a long, pointed snout. Bones cracked, and her spine extended into a bushy tail with a white tip.

Her vision blurred, the colors softening to pastel tones, while the sounds and smells of the forest snapped into sharper focus. Birdsong seemed to grow louder. The earthy odor of moss and the faint musk of deer filled her nostrils.

She stood still, nose in the air, whiskers twitching.

To her right, leaves rustled as a mouse moved through the underbrush.

The thrill of the hunt surged through her, but she held back an excited yip and went very still so she wouldn’t startle away her prey. Her ears swiveled to pinpoint its exact location. Eyes locked onto the spot, she crouched low. Every muscle coiled, ready to pounce.

When the mouse moved again, scurrying for cover, she leaped high up in the air, then dove headfirst into the underbrush.

The chase was on.

~ ~ ~

The sunroom had always been Tala’s favorite place in the house. With glass walls on three sides, it offered unobstructed views of the backyard, the garden, and the dense woods beyond. She almost felt as if she was still in the middle of the forest.

When she’d returned from her run, she had curled up on a love seat with a mug of tea and two plates piled high with food. After depleting so much energy shifting, she was starving and wolfed down most of it without stopping to taste what she was eating.

Then, belly sated, she leaned back and watched a pair of wild turkeys strut along the forest’s edge.

Her muscles twitched as hunting fever stirred.

The floorboards creaked, and a whiff of herbs and lavender from the garden announced her mother’s presence. In a worn-out sweatshirt she had owned since Tala had been a teenager, she settled on a chair opposite Tala, a mug in her hand. “Good morning. How was your run?”

Somehow, Tala wasn’t surprised her mother knew. She always seemed to sense these things. “Relaxing.”

“Good. I have a feeling you needed that, so I won’t even scold you for going alone.”

Tala swirled around the liquid in her mug. The truth was she had always loved solitary runs, but she didn’t want to admit it because it was a fox thing. As a Syak, she was supposed to prefer running with the pack surrounding her.

Her mother took a sip of her tea. “How’s Faith? Any better?”

Tala squinted over at her. How did her mother know Faith had been, as humans called it, under the weather the night before?

“I found her rummaging through the cabinets looking for a heating pad at one a.m.,” her mother said as if reading her mind. “We talked for a while.”

The thought of her mother and Faith talking made her nervous. “She’s better. The heat helped.”

“Oh. Good. So you found a heating pad after all?”

Tala blew onto her tea, even though it had already cooled down to a pleasant temperature, hoping it would hide her face, in case she was blushing. “Something like that.”

Her mother studied her with a knowing grin, as if she knew there’d been no heating pad. “I like her,” she said after a while. “You really didn’t have to stay away for so long to hide her from us, just because she’s human…or Peter MacAllister’s daughter.”

“You know about that?” Tala hadn’t been sure.

“Of course I know. Some of your siblings and cousins are as good at tracking down information online as they are at tracking down a deer. Plus I saw all the hateful comments you got on your Instagram posts.” She reached across the low table to rub Tala’s arm.

“Yet you still told me to bring her?”

Her mother shrugged. “She can’t help who her father is any more than you can help who you fall in love with. And you know me—I’ve always embraced diversity. My best friend was a fox, at a time when each subspecies tended to stay among themselves.”

“I didn’t stay away because of Faith,” Tala mumbled into her tea.

“Why then?” her mother asked. “And don’t tell me it was your new job. Even the head of an important security detail gets time off.”

Tala glanced toward the forest.

The turkeys were gone.

“After Kelsey outed us by shifting on TV, I wasn’t sure how everyone would react.”

“React to what?” her mother asked as if she really didn’t know.

Tala stared at her. Was she pretending to make her feel better?

No. Her scent revealed only puzzlement, curiosity, and concern.

“To my failure.” Tala looked intently into her mug to avoid her mother’s gaze.

Her mother stood.

Shit, would she walk out?

But before Tala could peer up, her mom squeezed onto the love seat next to her. She put down her mug, took Tala’s from her, set it down next to her own, and grasped both of her hands. “What happened…it’s not on you.”

“Yes, it is,” Tala said fiercely. Her mother making excuses for her made her feel even worse.

“It’s not.” Her mother’s tone was just as unyielding.

“Kelsey and Rue were my prisoners. My responsibility.” Tala freed one hand from her mother’s grasp and tapped her chest with her fist. “If I had kept a closer eye on them, they wouldn’t have been able to film Kelsey shifting. Then we wouldn’t be called demons, monsters, and predators by random strangers on the street. We wouldn’t have to wear those damn ID tags and let the Bureau of Shape-Shifter Affairs know when we want to move.” The ache behind her breastbone grew with every word. “The teachers you worked with wouldn’t have been fired, and our athletes wouldn’t have been banned from competitions. We—”

“We wouldn’t be able to go to human hospitals when we’re sick,” her mother said. “We would still be getting killed by clueless hunters. We couldn’t openly sing our songs, write down our legends, or speak the Old Language.” She squeezed Tala’s hands to stop her from interrupting. “And we wouldn’t be able to start a relationship or a close friendship with a human.”

Tala stared off toward the forest. “I’m not sure all of that is worth the hate and restrictions we have to endure.”

“Hey, don’t say that.” Her mother’s grip on her fingers became almost painful. “I’ve watched you with Faith, and seeing you so happy is worth everything to me.”

Tala ducked her head. She couldn’t look at her mother, knowing that it was all a lie.

“This is no longer the world your grandmother grew up in. The planet is overpopulated. We live door to door with humans, and security cameras are everywhere. It was only a matter of time until humans found out about us one way or another, no matter what you did or didn’t do. In fact, I don’t get how we could evade detection for so long.”

Because Saru like Tala had tracked down security footage, destroyed evidence, drugged people until they were convinced what they had seen was only a hallucination, or—if all else failed—killed humans to keep their existence secret.

But, of course, Tala didn’t tell her that.

Maybe her mother suspected at least part of it anyway. Some Wrasa probably did. But, officially, only the Saru and the council knew how far they had gone.

“It might not seem like it right now, but in the long run, I think we’re better off living our lives out in the open,” her mother continued.

Tala felt like puking. Nothing about her life was out in the open—not the details of her job, not the truth about her and Faith’s relationship.

Her mother reached up and gave her a gentle nudge on the chin, as she had when Tala had been a pup. “Stop looking so guilty. No one is blaming you.”

Tala poked at the cushion next to her. “Yeah, right. No one but Grandma, Rey, and Arnold. Probably Aster and Aunt Celia too. They haven’t said a single word to me since I got here, and I’m surprised their glares didn’t set Faith’s hair on fire!”

“Give them some time. They’ll come around. At your twere, Aunt Celia will give a long speech, saying how perfect Faith is for you, and Rey will nod and say if you couldn’t marry one of the Cranfield sisters, like he did, marrying Faith is a close second.”

A chuckle tore from Tala’s throat. Yeah, that sounded like something Rey would say, finding a way to point out his own achievement. At least he might say something like that if he managed to overcome his dislike of humans. And, of course, if Tala’s relationship were real and she would marry Faith.

Her mother didn’t laugh. She regarded Tala with a serious expression. “I’m actually glad you didn’t marry Lasandra.”

What? Tala stared. “I thought you liked her.”

“I did. Still do. But if I’m perfectly honest, I always hoped you’d find a mate who isn’t Syak.”

That made no sense. Until rather recently, Wrasa had found romantic partners only within their subspecies. No Syak parent had ever encouraged their offspring to find a mate who wasn’t a wolf-shifter.

Unless, of course, her mother didn’t really see her as a Syak. Tala’s stomach churned. “You wanted me to find a fox mate?”

“I wanted you to find a mate who brings out your playful, mischievous side, not just the fierce alpha side. Faith does that. The way you cracked up over the berry crumble…” A fond smile spread over her mother’s face.

Dammit! Her mother was right, as much as Tala hated to admit it. Faith brought out a part of her that she hardly recognized. From the beginning, Tala had fought the urge to joke and tease when she was around Faith.

“I haven’t heard you laugh like that since you were a little pup or seen that twinkle in your eyes. You were so mischievous as a child, always teasing, playing good-natured pranks, and having everyone in stitches.”

“Me?” Tala didn’t remember it that way. “You’re confusing me with Kiera.”

Her mother energetically shook her head. “I know my own children. I’m not confusing you with anyone. If you don’t remember, it’s because you actively worked to bury that part of yourself deep down. You set out to out-wolf the toughest wolves in the pack and suppressed your fox side. I’ve always regretted that. It was like losing Caissie all over again.”

At the mention of her birth mother, a scratchy feeling started in the back of Tala’s throat. She coughed to chase it away. “I’m a Syak, Mom.”

Her mother smiled—not in a condescending way but full of pride. “I know. You’re a wolf, but that’s not the only thing you are. You’re also a Rtar, and I wish you’d embrace the fox part of your heritage a little more.”

Tala didn’t know what to say to that—or even what to think. She never would have guessed that her mother felt that way.

A startled cry from upstairs interrupted whatever she might have said.

Tala recognized the voice immediately.

Faith! She was in danger!

Tala jumped up. She leaped across the low table so she didn’t lose a single second by hurrying around it and darted upstairs, taking the steps two at a time.

Fire flared along her skin, and her gums ached as her teeth threatened to lengthen into sharp canines that could tear into the attacker.

A staccato of footfalls behind her let her know the pack was rushing to defend Faith against any intruder too.

Doors flew open, and her siblings fell in behind her as Tala sprinted toward the bedroom and nearly kicked the door down.

Faith stood next to the bed, still in her pajamas. She was deathly pale, and her pupils were wide as if something or someone had scared her. Apparently, she had just gotten out of bed and hadn’t had a chance to reapply the mate scent perfume yet, so for once, Tala could sniff out her emotions with a single inhale.

Beneath the lingering scent of sleep was the metallic odor of fear…and something else—something harder to identify. It almost smelled acrid, like a hint of disgust.

Tala’s gaze darted around for an attacker, then slid over Faith but couldn’t make out any blood or injuries.

She skidded to a stop next to her. “Faith! Are you okay? What happened?” She pulled Faith into her arms, partly to comfort her, partly to get their scents to mingle and distract from the fact that merely a faint trace of mate scent still clung to Faith.

With a shaking finger, Faith pointed at the floor in front of the bed. “There’s a dead mouse! I nearly stepped on it when I got up!”

Tala looked down.

Faith was right. A tiny mouse lay, unmoving, right next to Faith’s slippers.

The tension in the room dissipated as half a dozen pack members—who had stormed in after Tala—relaxed.

Tala’s mother walked closer and peeked around her at the lifeless mouse. Chuckling, she patted Tala’s shoulder. “Such a romantic. You got that from your dad. I remember he once brought me a hare when we were newly mated.”

“Um, what?” Tala had no idea what she was talking about. She hadn’t brought Faith a mouse…had she?

She stared at the small animal. Dimly, she remembered rustling leaves and pouncing on prey. Had she caught it and carried it back to the house?

But that made no sense. Why would her fox do that? After all, it wasn’t in on the scheme to convince everyone Faith was her mate.

Once they transformed into their animal form, the scheming stopped. Life was simple, without the need to lie, compromise, or adjust to complex emotions and tangled relationships. Every decision was straightforward—when you were hungry, you hunted and ate; when you were tired, you slept…and when you found a mate, you brought her little presents.

Even if that mate was just pretend, apparently.

Tala still didn’t understand. She hadn’t even done that for Lasandra.

But then again, as a wolf, Lasandra would have probably laughed at being presented with such tiny prey as a gift.

Arlyn chuckled and slapped her arm. “After the wild night you two had, your fox form apparently thought Faith needed a snack to replenish some calories.”

Tala let go of Faith to scowl at her sister. Wild night? “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The wildest thing she had done the night before was act as a heating pad, but Tala would rather die than tell her family that.

“Very wild, by the looks of it.” Arlyn teasingly tugged on Tala’s pajama top.

Tala usually preferred to sleep naked, but that hadn’t been an option for this trip. A Saru had picked her up some last-minute sleepwear—a pair of pajamas with way too many buttons.

Now the top button was missing, and the one below was dangling by a thread because she had torn off her clothes, impatient to shift, earlier.

“I was in a rush to get naked,” Tala grumbled.

Her siblings exchanged wolfish smirks.

Her mother playfully clutched her ears. “On that note, I’ll go make breakfast—or a second breakfast for some of us. There are things a mother isn’t supposed to hear.”

“No, Mom, I didn’t mean it that w—”

Faith wrapped both arms around her and squeezed the air from Tala’s lungs, cutting her off. “It was a pretty hot night,” she whispered, knowing full well that every pack member could still hear her. Her eyes twinkled, and the color was returning to her cheeks.

Hot. Right. Just not the way her family thought. Tala bit back a sound that felt suspiciously like a giggle. She slung her arms around Faith and pulled her close again.

With laughter and teasing comments, her siblings and the rest of the pack followed her mother out, closing the door behind them and leaving Tala alone with Faith.

When their footsteps faded away, Faith quickly let go.

Tala scratched the back of her neck. “Sorry about that.” She pointed at the mouse. “The mate scent perfume probably confused the heck out of my poor fox form.”

“As long as you’re the one who gets rid of it, we’re all good. At least it made us more believable as a couple.” Faith strode past her toward the bathroom. At the door, she paused and looked back at her with a grin. “But next time…bring flowers.”