Page 21 of Jace’s Mate (East Coast Territory #1)

A nikka watched, fascinated, as Jace stood still, his gaze sweeping over the woods like he was reading a language she couldn’t decipher.

He wasn’t tense, not exactly, but there was something intentional in his stillness—something tuned in to the world around him.

When he sniffed the air, she frowned in confusion. What was he searching for?

Curious, she tilted her head back and drew in a breath through her nose.

The scent hit her like a balm. Cool, crisp air laced with pine, damp bark, and that musky sweetness left behind after rain.

Her lungs felt cleaner just breathing it in.

The forest smelled alive , and the earth beneath her feet hummed with something ancient.

She swore she could hear everything—the soft rustle of a fox darting through the underbrush, the gurgle of a stream in the distance, the rhythmic chirping of tree frogs syncing with the rise and fall of crickets. The sheer depth of it made her dizzy.

She’d never been in the woods before—not really. A walk in a city park on occasion, yes, but never this . Never where the trees closed in overhead and the smells felt like they were speaking to her.

She took a step forward and blinked. The trees seemed to… part for her. Not literally, but in her mind, she knew where the path was, even if she couldn’t see it. She could sense it—a trail that weaved through the trees, calling to her.

Her heart began to pound, each beat harder than the last.

No. No, no, no!

Gasping, she clutched her sides and looked around, panic building.

That feeling was back.

The sharp tingles, the jittery buzz under her skin. Her fingers trembled as the nerves in her arms and back lit up like a thousand tiny lightning strikes. It felt like her bones were vibrating, like her skin was about to crack open .

She took a staggering step back and pressed herself against one of the vans, wrapping her arms around her stomach, trying not to lose control. She had no idea what was happening to her—but she knew she didn’t want it happening here. Not in front of Jace. Not now.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Jace giving a small nod to the crowd. A signal. The people, who had been milling about in loose clusters, suddenly came alive with energy. A cheer broke through the clearing, followed by clapping and excited voices.

What the hell was going on?

Anikka could barely stay upright, and now everyone else was clapping like it was party time?

She tried to keep humming under her breath, a habit she’d picked up in the kitchen when she needed to calm herself. But the humming didn’t help now. Her back was itching— burning —and her body buzzed with some wild, electric pressure.

And then…

The crowd started stripping off their clothes.

She gaped.

Clothes hit the forest floor. Pants. Shirts. Dresses. Boots kicked aside. Bras dropped. She couldn’t look away fast enough to avoid seeing everything . “What’s going on?” she hissed, spinning to look away while clutching the front of her hideous flowered dress.

Jace’s voice came from beside her, calm and rich with approval. “We’re going for a run.”

He wasn’t undressed yet, but he was watching the others with clear pride, his arms crossed over his chest like a king overlooking his kingdom.

He looked radiant. Dangerous. Magnetic. His presence vibrated with an energy that pulled at something buried deep inside her. Her skin tingled again—sharper now, sharper than ever—and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from whimpering.

And then—

Before her very eyes, the crowd changed .

Bodies shimmered. Glowed. Shifted.

One by one, people transformed—seamlessly, effortlessly—into wolves .

Thick fur replaced skin. Limbs contorted.

Bones realigned with frightening ease. What had been dozens of naked humans was now a forest clearing of wolves in every size and color.

One of the pups, no more than seven or eight years old, looked anxiously at Jace before giving a shaky yip and bounding toward the tree line, but didn’t go too far.

Anikka blinked, utterly dumbfounded. “What the hell is going on?” she whispered, barely able to hear her own voice over the pounding of her heart.

Jace turned to her. He didn’t speak—he didn’t need to. He simply lifted one dark brow, that faint, knowing smile tugging at his lips.

She hated that it made her knees wobble.

And then, softly— so softly—he said, “Strip off your clothes, Anikka.”

She reeled back like he’d slapped her. “What?” she gasped. “I’m not taking off my clothes in front of everyone!”

Jace chuckled, voice low and velvet-smooth. “If you don’t, they’ll rip when you shift.”

Jace turned toward the semi-circle of wolves. His voice was calm but firm as it rippled through the clearing. “She’s never shifted before. Give her a moment.”

At once, the wolves obeyed, settling onto their haunches. Their ears pricked forward, their eyes trained on her. A few wagged their tails with quiet encouragement. Not one of them moved an inch closer.

Anikka wasn’t sure if she wanted to scream or run. Her whole body was vibrating, fire and lightning running under her skin. She pressed a palm to her chest and curled forward slightly, breathing hard. Her dress stuck to her back, sweat clinging to her spine like a second skin.

“Shift.” Jace’s voice, deeper now, rolled through the clearing in that strange commanding tone. It wasn’t angry. It wasn’t loud. But it was a command that went straight into her bones and pulled something awake.

She gasped. Her knees buckled. She clung to the side of the van, but her fingers—were they still fingers?—scraped strangely against the metal.

She opened her mouth to argue, to scream, to ask what the hell was happening to her —

But her body was already obeying.

She fell to her hands and knees with a choked cry as the fire surged through her spine. Her body curled inwards, then stretched outward. Her skin prickled, stretched—and then, in an instant, it was over. The sensations vanished like smoke on the wind.

Panting, Anikka blinked and looked down.

She wasn’t standing. She wasn’t even kneeling.

She was crouched low to the earth on four paws.

The rich scent of the forest hit her like a wave—moss and wet soil and pine needles, damp bark and the sharp tang of fur. Her fur. She could feel it—thick, warm, protective—shifting as her muscles twitched.

The dirt beneath her paws was soft and damp, and it felt.

.. good. Right. She stepped forward hesitantly and stared at the ground.

Her paw was large. Darker than the rest of her fur.

She could see her claws, sharp and curved.

She tried lifting her other paw—then both. Her muscles responded instinctively.

A shudder rolled through her new form. She shook herself, and the fur along her back fluffed out, catching the cool air.

Good grief… the sensations were fabulous!

She wanted to weep.

The air felt like silk sliding over her body. She could feel the space around her. The vibration of sound. The scent of every pine needle. She could feel Jace’s presence without even seeing him. She could feel the forest breathing.

Anikka let out a high, sharp yip before she could stop herself. Her mouth felt strange—longer. Her tongue flopped awkwardly, and her sharp teeth pressed against it in a way that startled her. She licked the air.

And loved it.

She looked over her shoulder and saw her fur—a thick coat of warm gold and cream that rippled as she moved. Her tail wagged once, a clumsy little flick that made her snort… and want to catch it!

And then she jumped —straight up like a spring released—then danced sideways, her body clumsy but thrilled . Her paws scrabbled against the earth. She let out another strange bark-laugh that surprised even her.

A low chuckle echoed nearby. She turned her head and found Jace watching her, his arms folded, a smile on his face that made her heart leap.

She froze. Was he laughing at her? Were they all laughing?

She dropped her head and crouched lower, suddenly self-conscious.

Jace stepped forward slowly and crouched beside her, his voice low and warm. “It’s okay, Anikka.”

He reached out and stroked her head gently.

Oh God. It felt so good. She leaned into the touch instinctively, her eyes fluttering shut. His fingers scratched behind her ears and she swore she nearly collapsed in bliss.

“They’re not laughing at you,” he said softly, running his fingers down her neck. “They’re happy for you. This is your first shift. They all remember what that felt like and they’re proud to have shared this moment with you.”

She opened her eyes and looked around. The wolves were no longer watching in still silence. They were wagging tails. Soft yips. Heads tilted in curiosity and welcome.

And then— Jace began to undress.

Oh no! Should she look away? Should she pretend she wasn’t interested? Thoughts skittered and…!

Oh yes.

His hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, and Anikka could not— would not —look away. Her wolf heart gave a sharp stutter.

One button. Two. The shirt slid off, revealing the thick ropes of muscle over his chest and shoulders. His skin gleamed in the moonlight, every line and groove a tribute to power and dominance.

Her ears perked forward. Her tail flicked once—twice.

When he moved to unbuckle his belt, her gaze snapped to his face. He caught her watching and smirked . That cocky, infuriating, heart-melting smirk.

With slow, practiced ease, he stepped out of his pants.

And there it was.

She blinked. Her tongue slipped from her mouth. She licked her snout instinctively and then caught herself.

Could a wolf blush? Because she was definitely blushing.

He chuckled, the sound deeper now, huskier. Then he moved toward her, and for one insane second, she thought— Is he going to let me lick him?

But no. Instead, Jace’s body began to shimmer.