Page 33 of Loan Wolf (Green Valley Shifters: Generations #1)

33

CLARA

M ueller’s Pond looked much as it had before, choked with weeds and algae, cool but uninviting. There were frogs singing in the shade, and a flock of birds took off from the far shore as Clara leaned Daisy up against the tree where she and Gabe had sat together several nights before.

The sun was high in the sky this time, its reflection dappling the middle of the pond.

The pond might not be much different, but Clara was.

She had new clarity and resolve now, and she slowly stripped off her clothing, pausing to examine the rash at her knee, the bruises that colored her skin as she exposed it. The sounds of the highway were so distant that they were a hum like the heat itself, and when she stepped into the murky water, it was cool and seemed to lap at her in welcome.

Clara waded out and paused, knee deep, remembering Gabe’s warning about sepsis and leeches. She closed her eyes.

He was so good, and so good for her. Clara wanted to eat up his company like forbidden chocolate, to get fat with him, and laugh forever.

But she had to know.

She had to know if she was throwing away her life, or her dream, or if he was the dream, or if… she had to know, not just hope or guess.

She took another step. The sandy bottom got soft with water plants, and slippery. The water was to her thighs now, and she had to swirl away lilies before her to go out further. It was a shock when the water hit her waist, and then she held her breath and fell forward, closing her eyes and forcing herself to let go.

She kept her head above the water but lost the ground beneath her and had a moment of disorientation as she went from standing to floating.

As it always did, the water felt good once she was all the way in, and swimming seemed natural and comfortable, even if the bobbing waterlilies and oozing green scum were not terribly appealing.

I want to know, Clara thought, as hard as she could. I want to know if Gabe is my mate. I want to be a shifter, so I can be sure.

No animal voice came to join her in her head, and no dazzling certainty settled on her shoulders. Clara forced herself to think it again, and again, like a litany. I want to have no doubts! Please! Let me change!

Nothing but sun, beating down on her head, glinting off of water-beaded lilypads, water beetles skidding away from her in fright. Clara thought she heard a fish splash somewhere, but didn’t see the ripples.

Did she have to ask out loud?

“I want to be a shifter!” she said boldly, treading water.

The words echoed back at her, muddied beyond recognition.

“I want to know if Gabe is my mate!” she cried, emboldened.

Nothing.

This was all a big, fat nothing.

“Why not?” Clara demanded of nobody. “Why can’t I know? Why do I have to be ordinary !”

She recognized as she shouted that no one in their right mind would call her ordinary. She was on the brink of a dazzling career in dancing, everyone said so. She was pretty, talented, and kind, everyone said so. She was fabulously rich and had a family that loved and supported her.

And she was thinking of throwing it all away to stay in Green Valley with a guy she was crazy about. So crazy that she was swimming in leech-infested green water that was leaving a film over her skin, desperately trying not to think about what might be swimming around in it with her. Clara gave a wordless yell of frustration and smashed her arms down on the surface of the water, sending a wave of algae and lilypad away from her.

It felt freeing, and Clara did it again, kicking, yelling, and crying, wallowing in her selfish fury and flailing at the lilypads around her like a toddler pitching a fit. She ended it by closing her eyes, sucking in air, and diving under, swimming down to touch the bottom of the pond and convince herself there was nothing there.

The water was comfortable around her, like she was cradled in tender arms, waterlily stems and weeds caressing her as she dove deeper and deeper, the bottom further away than she expected. Her ears popped, and she wanted a breath but was too stubborn to surface.

Down was up and up was down, and Clara didn’t bother to open her eyes, knowing that she’d never make anything out in the clouded water. She could only swim in the direction she’d first pointed, hoping it was still down, and hold her breath until her lungs ached.