Page 11 of Love, Clumsily (Fur Real Love #2)

After we’d dried off and dressed in comfortable clothes suitable for a night outdoors, Mason led me back downstairs. The house was mostly empty now, with just a few people still inside, obviously waiting for the last possible moment before shifting.

“Almost time,” Robert said, approaching us. His eyes were fully gold now, like Mason’s, and there was a barely contained energy in his movements. “You two heading down to the main clearing?”

Mason nodded. “I thought Julian might be more comfortable there for his first full moon, rather than in the deep woods.”

“Good thinking,” Robert agreed. He clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, son. First full moon with the pack is always overwhelming, but you’ll do fine. Just stay close to Mason, and remember—no matter how we look, we’re still ourselves in there. Just… more.”

With that cryptic advice, he headed outside, already pulling his shirt over his head as he went.

“Is he going to—” I started.

“Shift outside? Yes,” Mason confirmed. “Dad’s old-school. Thinks it’s unnatural to shift indoors.”

“So how does this work? Do you all just… get naked in front of each other and turn into wolves?”

Mason laughed. “Pretty much. Pack doesn’t have the same nudity taboos as humans. When you shift forms regularly, you get used to being naked around each other.” He saw my expression and added quickly, “But I’ll shift in private this first time, if it makes you more comfortable.”

I appreciated his consideration, but I also didn’t want to start my integration into pack life by being the prudish human. “No, it’s okay. I want the full experience. Just… warn me if I’m about to commit some terrible werewolf faux pas.”

He smiled, kissing me softly. “You’ll be fine. Just be yourself—that’s who they want to get to know.”

We made our way outside, where the sky had darkened to deep blue, the first stars appearing overhead.

The air was crisp and cool, carrying the scents of pine and woodsmoke.

A large bonfire was already burning in a clearing about fifty yards from the main house, surrounded by logs arranged as seating.

Several people were gathered there, some already stripped down to bare skin, others in various states of undress. I tried not to stare, but it was hard not to notice the casual way they disrobed, completely unselfconscious about their nudity.

Mason led me to a log near the fire and gestured for me to sit. “The moon will rise any minute now,” he said, his voice tense with anticipation. He began to undress, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside.

I watched, mesmerized, as he stripped down to nothing, his body magnificent in the firelight. All around us, others were doing the same, the clearing filling with naked bodies of all shapes and sizes.

And then I felt it—a shift in the atmosphere, a collective intake of breath. I looked up to see the full moon rising above the treeline, huge and luminous.

The effect on the werewolves was immediate and dramatic. A shudder ran through Mason’s body, his back arching. Around the clearing, others were reacting similarly, some dropping to all fours, others throwing their heads back in silent anticipation.

“Julian,” Mason said, his voice strained, “I’m going to shift now. Don’t be afraid.”

I nodded, unable to speak, my eyes fixed on him as the transformation began.

It was both beautiful and terrifying to witness.

His body seemed to ripple, bones shifting beneath his skin.

Dark hair—fur—spread rapidly across his chest, his arms, his legs.

His face elongated, features rearranging themselves into something canine yet still recognizably Mason.

His hands curled into paws, nails extending into claws.

The whole process took less than a minute, and where my boyfriend had stood, there was now an enormous black wolf with familiar amber-gold eyes. He was magnificent—powerful muscles visible beneath the thick fur, shoulders standing higher than my waist even on all fours.

All around the clearing, similar transformations had occurred. Where there had been naked humans, there were now wolves of various colors and sizes—some nearly as large as Mason, others more modestly proportioned.

I sat frozen, overwhelmed by the spectacle, until Mason-wolf approached me, head lowered slightly. Instinctively, I reached out, and he pushed his muzzle into my palm, his fur softer than I’d imagined.

“Hi,” I said softly, feeling slightly ridiculous talking to a wolf but unable to stop myself. “You’re beautiful like this.”

His tail wagged once—an oddly endearing gesture from such a fearsome creature—and he pressed his massive body against my legs. Despite his size, he was careful not to knock me over, displaying the same consideration he showed in human form.

A smaller wolf, silver-gray with familiar eyes, approached us cautiously. Riley, I realized, recognizing something in her posture and the way she held her head.

Mason gave a soft woof, and Riley came closer, sniffing at me curiously. I cautiously extended my hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, she allowed me to scratch behind her ears.

“This is so weird,” I told them both. “But also kind of amazing.”

More wolves gathered around, each approaching to sniff me or nudge me gently with their muzzle—a greeting, I realized, or perhaps an acceptance.

Robert, a massive gray wolf with silver around his muzzle, approached last, standing tall and proud before me.

He held my gaze for a long moment, then dipped his head slightly before turning toward the forest.

He let out a howl that raised goosebumps on my arms—deep and primal and ancient. The other wolves joined in, creating a chorus that seemed to shake the very air. Mason’s howl rose above the others, rich and powerful, making my chest vibrate with its depth.

And then, as quickly as it had begun, the howling stopped. Robert bounded toward the forest, and most of the pack followed, a stream of furry bodies racing into the darkness.

Mason remained by my side, looking at me with those intelligent eyes.

“Go on,” I encouraged him, understanding his reluctance. “I’ll be fine here by the fire. Go run with your pack.”

He hesitated, then licked my hand once—a gesture that should have been gross but was somehow sweet—before turning to follow the others, his powerful body moving with the grace he lacked in human form.

I watched him disappear into the trees, then turned back to the fire. I wasn’t alone—a few humans remained, including Riley’s girlfriend Jess, who came to sit beside me.

“First full moon?” she asked with a knowing smile.

I nodded. “That obvious?”

“You have that ‘did I really just see my boyfriend turn into a giant wolf’ look,” she said. “I remember it well.”

“How long have you been with Riley?” I asked.

“Three years,” she said. “Found out she was a werewolf six months in, when she shifted accidentally during a particularly… intense moment.”

I laughed. “Mason was terrified of that happening. He wouldn’t sleep with me until I figured it out.”

“Riley had no such restraint,” Jess said with a fond smile. “Nearly gave me a heart attack, but once I got over the shock… well, there are certain advantages to dating a werewolf.”

“The stamina,” I agreed.

“And the heightened senses,” she added with a suggestive wink.

We traded werewolf boyfriend stories for a while, occasionally joined by other humans or werewolves who had shifted back to human form. The atmosphere was relaxed and friendly, the night air filled with distant howls and the crackling of the fire.

I was in the middle of telling Jess about Mason’s first attempt at cooking dinner for me (a disaster involving a smoke alarm and a very apologetic werewolf) when a commotion at the edge of the clearing caught my attention.

The pack was returning, still in wolf form, many of them carrying small game in their jaws—rabbits, squirrels, even what looked like a young deer carried between two larger wolves. They dropped their catches near the fire, where I noticed a cooking area had been set up.

Mason trotted directly to me, his muzzle slightly bloody but his eyes bright with the joy of the hunt. He pressed against my legs, and I buried my fingers in the thick fur of his neck.

“Successful hunt?” I asked.

He made a sound that was unmistakably smug, then moved to a space a few yards from the fire. I watched, fascinated, as he began to shift back to human form. The process was just as mesmerizing in reverse—fur receding, bones realigning, features softening back to human.

Within moments, Mason—naked, slightly dirty, and absolutely gorgeous—stood before me. His eyes were still more gold than amber, and there was a wildness to him that hadn’t fully receded, but he was unmistakably himself again.

He grabbed a robe from a nearby stack and shrugged it on before joining me by the fire. “So?” he asked, his voice rough from howling. “What did you think?”

“That was…” I searched for the right word. “Incredible. You’re incredible.”

His smile was brilliant in the firelight. “You weren’t scared?”

“A little,” I admitted. “But mostly I was just… in awe. You’re magnificent as a wolf, you know.”

He ducked his head, almost shyly. “It’s just my other form. Nothing special.”

“It’s special to me,” I insisted, leaning against him. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

He wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close. “Thank you for accepting it. For accepting all of me.”

Around us, the pack was transforming back, some remaining in wolf form while others returned to human shape to begin preparing the night’s hunt for cooking.

It was a peculiar mix of the primal and the mundane—wolves and humans moving around each other with comfortable familiarity, some cooking fresh game over the fire, others sharing drinks and conversation.

“Is it always like this?” I asked, watching the scene with fascination.

“Full moons? Pretty much. Run, hunt, feast, then run some more.” Mason accepted a beer from Alex, who had shifted back and was now distributing drinks. “Some will stay human for a while, then shift again later. Others will stay in wolf form all night. It’s a personal preference.”

“And you?”

He smiled, a hint of wolf in his grin. “I thought I might stay human for a while. There are certain activities I can only enjoy in this form.”

The suggestive tone in his voice sent heat rushing through me. “Oh really?”

“Mmm,” he confirmed, his hand sliding up my thigh. “Full moon affects stamina in both forms, you know. And we have that private room with the very sturdy bed…”

“What about the pack feast?” I asked, though I was already leaning into his touch.

“They’ll be busy for hours,” he murmured, his lips finding my neck. “And I’m hungry for something else entirely.”

I shivered despite the warmth of the fire. “In that case, lead the way.”

He stood, pulling me up with him, and we made our goodbyes to those nearby. If anyone knew exactly where we were going or why, they had the courtesy not to comment, though I caught a few knowing smiles.

As Mason led me back toward the house, his hand warm and firm in mine, I glanced back at the clearing. Wolves and humans mingled together in the firelight, a scene from some ancient time transported to the present. It should have seemed strange, impossible, yet somehow it felt right.

And as I followed my werewolf boyfriend—my mate—into the house for what promised to be an extraordinary night, I knew I had found something rare and precious: a place where the impossible was everyday, where magic walked in human form (and sometimes on four legs), and where I, improbably, belonged.