Page 21 of Howling Mad (Romance Expected Dating Service #1)

Mom and Dad exchange a knowing look. They’re well aware of what “hiking” at a shifter-friendly preserve on a full moon day implies.

“Excellent choice,” says Dad gruffly. “Good running terrain there.”

“Stay on the marked paths,” Mom adds, “And take a first-aid kit. You never know when—”

“We’ll be careful,” I interrupt, standing up. “Thanks for breakfast, but we should really get going if we want to make the most of the day.”

After a flurry of hugs, extra snacks pressed into my hands, and my mother whispering, “He’s perfect,” loudly enough for Michael to definitely hear, we finally escape, and they walk out with us, heading toward their vehicle.

“I am so sorry,” I say as we walk toward my car. “They’re usually not quite this embarrassing, at least at the first meeting.”

Michael laughs, linking his fingers with mine. “They’re charming. I mean that sincerely.”

“My mother just planned our mating ceremony.”

“At least she wants one.” He squeezes my hand. “My father would sooner disown me than accept my choice of mate not being a politically advantageous pure bloodline wolf.”

I look at him, truly seeing the weight he carries. “That must be hard.”

He shrugs. “It’s his loss. Besides, I’ve made my choice.” The heat in his eyes makes my pulse quicken.

The drive to Crescent Preserve takes about forty minutes, giving us time to decompress from the parental ambush. The preserve is a large protected area with designated shifter zones, where we can run freely without fear of human hikers stumbling upon naked people emerging from the woods.

We park in a secluded lot and check in at the ranger station, where they assign us a private shifting area. The ranger, a grizzled old grizzly shifter named Tom, marks our path on a map.

“Full moon tonight,” he notes with a knowing smile. “Special occasion?”

“Just a run,” I say, heat rising in my cheeks.

“Mmmhmm.” He winks at Michael. “The Ridge Trail has the best moonlight views. Very...romantic.”

We thank him and head out, following the marked path deeper into the woods. The preserve is beautiful with ancient trees towering overhead, and the rich scent of earth and growing things filling the air.

After about twenty minutes of hiking, we reach our designated shifting area. The small clearing is surrounded by dense foliage and marked with discreet shifter symbols that humans would overlook.

“This is perfect,” Michael says, setting down our small backpack. “Private, but with easy access to the running trails.”

The moment suddenly feels intensely significant. We’ve seen each other naked before, but shifting is different. More vulnerable and more intimate. It’s exposing your most primal self, the creature beneath the human facade.

He clearly senses my hesitation. “We can take turns if you prefer.”

I shake my head. “No, I want to do this together.”

We undress without speaking, the air between us charged with anticipation. I’ve never felt self-conscious about my body with Michael, but this feels different. Sacred, almost.

Standing bare beneath the forest canopy, I meet his eyes. “Ready?”

He nods, and we begin the shift simultaneously. The transformation is second nature to us both. Bones reshaping, muscles realigning, and fur sprouting along skin. A wolf’s shift isn’t painful if you don’t fight it, and I’ve learned to embrace rather than resist the change.

Within moments, two wolves stand in the clearing where humans had been. Michael’s wolf form is sleek and powerful, his coat a rich gray with silver markings that catch the sunlight. He’s larger than an ordinary wolf but leaner than most male shifters, built for speed rather than brute strength.

I pad toward him, letting him see me fully. My wolf form is smaller than average, with unusual silver-tipped fur that has always set me apart in my pack. I circle him once, letting our scents mingle.

Michael makes a soft sound in his throat—not quite a growl but not quite a whine—and bumps his muzzle against mine. The gesture is affectionate and intimate. I respond by nipping playfully at his ear and then darting away toward the trail, inviting him to chase.

He follows immediately, and we’re running together through the forest, two wolves weaving between ancient trees.

There’s pure joy in this kind of freedom.

The earth beneath our paws, the wind in our fur, instinct guiding our movements.

Despite our different builds, we find an easy rhythm together, perfectly in sync.

Michael runs with the same elegant efficiency he brings to his human life—calculated bursts of speed, precise turns, and intelligent use of terrain. I’m more playful, darting off the path occasionally to investigate interesting scents or dash through patches of sunlight.

We reach the Ridge Trail, climbing higher until we burst from the tree line onto a rocky outcropping overlooking the forest below. The view is spectacular. Miles of green canopy stretching toward distant mountains, a ribbon of river gleaming in the afternoon sun.

Michael nudges me with his muzzle, directing my attention upward. The moon is already visible, a pale ghost in the daylight sky, waiting to reach its full glory tonight. The sight of it sends a tremor of anticipation through both our wolves.

We rest there a while, side by side, our fur brushing. There’s communication in this silence, and a sharing of selves beyond words. I can feel his contentment and wonder at finding someone who runs with him this way. My wolf feels the same recognition and rightness I’ve never experienced before.

When we finally head back toward our shifting area, the sun has begun its descent.

The preserve will close to new entries soon, but we’ve registered for overnight access.

Back in the clearing, we shift to human form almost simultaneously.

The sensation is strange after hours in wolf shape, with limbs stretching, fur receding, and vocal cords rearranging for human speech.

We stand facing each other, breathing hard from our run, skin flushed with exertion and something more primal. Michael’s eyes still hold a hint of wolf gold, and I know mine must look the same. Our beasts are close to the surface.

“That was...” Michael begins and then stops, apparently unable to find adequate words.

“I know,” I say, stepping closer to him. “I’ve never run with anyone like that before.”

“Me neither.” His voice is husky, deeper than usual. “It felt like…”

“Like coming home,” I finish for him.

His eyes darken, and he closes the distance between us, pulling me against him. His skin is hot against mine, and his heart pounds beneath my palm as I press it to his chest. When our lips meet, it’s with the wild hunger of wolves, not the careful restraint of humans.

I wind my arms around his neck, pressing closer as his hands roam my back, my hips, and my thighs. Every touch ignites new flames beneath my skin. After running together in wolf form, our bodies hum with the energy of the approaching full moon, and there’s no patience left in either of us.

Michael lifts me effortlessly, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me to the blanket we’d laid out earlier. When he lowers me onto it, I pull him down with me, unwilling to break contact even for a moment.

“Finley,” he whispers against my neck, the word somewhere between a prayer and a growl. “I want you so much it hurts.”

“Then have me,” I say, arching against him. “I’m yours.”

His eyes flash gold at the words, and his control slips further. He trails hot kisses down my neck and across my collarbone, taking his time now despite our urgency. When his mouth finds my breast, I gasp, tangling my fingers in his hair.

“Michael, please.” Need coils tightly inside me. “I can’t wait.”

Understanding my desperation, he moves back up my body, positioning himself between my thighs. Our eyes lock as his cock enters me in one smooth thrust, making us both cry out at the perfect sensation of fullness. For a heartbeat, neither of us moves, overwhelmed by the intensity of connection.

Then I roll my hips, and restraint shatters for us both. He begins to move, each thrust deep and purposeful, hitting exactly the right spot to make stars explode behind my eyelids. I meet him movement for movement, our bodies finding the same perfect synchronicity we’d discovered while running.

“Look at me,” he says softly, and I open my eyes to find his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that steals my breath. “I want to see you.”

The vulnerability of being so completely seen, in both forms and my most unguarded moments, pushes me closer to the edge. I dig my nails into his shoulders, probably leaving marks, but he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, the slight pain spurs him on as his movements become more urgent.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers, dropping his forehead to rest against mine. “So perfect, Finley. Made for me.”

The words trigger something primal in me, and my release builds, tightening like a spring ready to uncoil. “Michael, I’m going to come.”

“Yes…” He growls, his rhythm faltering slightly. “Come for me, love. Let me feel you.”

The endearment, so casually given in such an intimate moment, sends me over the edge. I shatter around him as pleasure fills me, making me cry out his name. He follows almost immediately, his cock twitching inside me as he finds his release while burying his face in the curve of my neck.

We lie tangled together afterward, skin cooling in the forest air, and heartbeats gradually slowing. Michael traces patterns on my back with gentle fingers, dropping occasional kisses on my forehead, my temple, and the tip of my nose.

“That was... I… You… We were…” I search for words adequate to describe the experience and fail.

“Transcendent,” he says, and I laugh softly at the perfect accuracy of it.

“Yes. Exactly that.”

We lie in comfortable silence, watching the sky darken through gaps in the canopy overhead. The first stars appear, and the moon grows brighter and more dominant.

“We should probably get dressed,” I say eventually, though I make no move to disentangle myself from him.

“Probably.” He tightens his arms around me. “In a minute.”

I rest my head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. “Thank you for meeting my parents today.”

“Thank you for introducing me.” His voice rumbles pleasantly beneath my ear. “I think your mother may have already booked a venue for our mating ceremony.”

I groan. “I’m so sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.” He tips my chin up to look at him, his expression suddenly serious. “They love you and want you to be happy. That’s precious.”

I blink back tears. His family, except for Aunt Eleanor, has never supported his choices. What must it be like to see parents who, despite their overbearing tendencies, so clearly want their child’s happiness?

“They’ll love you, too,” I say softly. “Once they get to know you.”

“I hope so.” He kisses me lightly. “Because I intend to be around for a very long time.”

“Promise?” I ask, the word carrying more weight than it suggests.

His smile is slow and sure. “Promise.”