Page 20

Rocky

Birdie went back to stay with Prez and Eliza that night. I had work the next day, and Prez had my back. He also had Eliza who had him wrapped around her finger, suggesting it.

And I dreamed of Birdie again.

Not in that soft, romantic way some poor bastard might hope for. Nah. My dreams were feral, teeth-baring, scent-soaked, edge-of-the-cliff kinda wild. And she was always at the center of ‘em—Birdie in my arms, under me, around me, that sunny smile melting into moans while my wolf clawed for control .

I woke up with my sheets twisted and my body tight with frustration, jaw sore from clenching through the need to mark her. Claim her. Let the beast inside me say what my mouth hadn’t yet.

But I hadn’t. Couldn’t.

Not just because she wasn’t ready. Not just because the Council still had their feathers ruffled over me bringing her into our world, but because I wasn’t sure what claiming her would make her become. And I couldn’t do that to her. Not unless she wanted it.

And since she was my responsibility, I couldn’t keep my distance.

After work, I picked her up from Eliza’s place. I had somewhere to show her. Didn’t say where. Didn’t say why. Just told her to wear jeans and hold on tight. And she had. Hell, if she didn’t always listen when it counted, even if she backtalked me on damn near everything else.

Birdie climbed on the back of my bike with that bubbly laugh, her arms sliding ‘round my waist, and I damn near lost my mind right there on the asphalt. Her soft curves pressing against my back, her scent filling my lungs, that cheerful little voice humming along to the rumble of my Harley like she belonged there.

And maybe she did.

I’d been ridin’ out to the old homestead since my mother passed. The clearing wasn’t just some pretty view. It was sacred ground. Old shifter land. Full of quiet power, where the wind felt ancient and clean, and a wolf could breathe.

I hadn’t taken anyone there before. Not even my pack.

But tonight? I needed Birdie to see it. To see me.

By the time we rolled up the gravel switchbacks, the sun was long gone, and the world had turned silver-blue under the moon. I killed the engine, the sudden silence wrapping around us like a blanket.

Birdie slid off, wobblin’ just a little on her boots, cheeks flushed from the ride. Her hair was wild in the best way, green eyes wide as she looked up at the stars like she hadn’t seen ‘em in years.

“Damn,” she whispered. “You bring all your girls here? ”

I smirked. “Ain’t no other girls, sunshine. Just you.”

She rolled her eyes, but I saw the flush crawl down her neck. “You always this smooth, Rocky?”

“Nope. Usually I’m a surly bastard who don’t say much. But you bring it outta me.”

She looked at me then. Really looked. And something in her expression loosened.

The silence stretched out between us, not awkward, just thick with everything we weren’t saying. So I broke it the only way I knew how.

“C’mon.” I took her hand, led her up the narrow trail through the brush. The path opened up to the bluff, trees framing the mountain ridge like a goddamn painting. “This here’s where I come when the world’s too damn loud.”

Birdie stepped up beside me, her breath catching. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s home.”

A beat passed. Then another. She tugged her hoodie sleeves down, suddenly quiet.

“You okay?” I asked.

She nodded, then shook her head. “I’m still kinda processing, you know? You turning into a giant wolf, saving me from… whatever the hell that thing was. ”

“Cougar shifter. Rogue.” I shrugged. “Didn’t recognize any scent tags. Probably from outta state.” I didn’t want to tell her yet that I suspected her ex.

Birdie’s brows lifted. “You say that like it’s normal. Like there’s some DMV for damn supernatural creatures.”

I chuckled. “Ain’t that organized. But yeah, there’s rules. Territories. Politics. Lotta posturing. Some packs are like ours. Others… not so friendly.”

“Are they all bikers?”

“No. That’s just a lucky coincidence.”

“And you’re just casually dropping all this?”

“Better than lettin’ you get eaten.”

Her lips twitched, but then she sobered. “Why’d you bring me here, Rocky?”

I exhaled, long and rough. “’Cause I want you to see the part of me that ain’t just the scowl and the bike and the blood. The part that’s wild but not dangerous. Not to you.”

I stepped back, hands at the hem of my shirt.

“Wait. What are you going to do?”

“I’m gonna shift. If you’ll let me.”

Birdie’s mouth fell open. “You’re just gonna, strip naked and turn into a wolf in front of me? Like it’s not the weirdest damn thing I’ve ever heard? ”

I gave her a slow, lazy grin. “That’s about the gist of it.”

She blinked. Then laughed. “Well hell. At least gimme a heads up next time.”

I did strip then. Slow. Not to tease, though her eyes definitely lingered, but because shifting ain’t just about takin’ your clothes off. It’s about vulnerability. About trust.

Not gonna lie. It did help that I wasn’t just a grower but a shower, too. Couldn’t miss her reaction to seeing my dick, but I fought the grin. Went on like I didn’t smell her pussy drippin’.

The wind kicked up as I let the change take me, muscles stretching, bones snapping into new shapes. My skin rippled, fur sliding across it like a second skin until I stood on four legs, my wolf breathing deep, eyes locked on Birdie.

She gasped. Took a step back.

“Holy shit,” she whispered.

I lowered my head, ears flicking back, waiting. Letting her choose.

After a beat, she stepped forward, her fingers trembling as they brushed through the fur on my neck.

“You’re beautiful,” she said, voice full of awe. “Scary as all hell, but beautiful.”

I whined low, pressing my head into her palm.

We stayed like that for a while. My wolf sittin’ in the grass, her beside me, talkin’ like she wasn’t petting a 200-pound predator .

Eventually, the moon rose higher, and the itch under my skin said it was time to run.

I bumped her hand, then trotted off into the trees.

Behind me, she called out, “Don’t go too far, Wolfman!”

I howled in response, loud and long, the sound echoing through the mountains like a damn vow.

When I came back, I shifted behind the trees before walkin’ back barefoot.

Birdie sat on a rock, hugging her knees, a soft smile on her face.

“You’re back,” she said, like it surprised her.

“Always.”

And then she stood, walked right up to me, and kissed me.

No preamble. No hesitation.

Her lips were soft but sure, tasting like mint gum and moonlight, her hands gripping my jaw like she needed to anchor herself. I kissed her back with everything I had, pouring weeks of pent-up desire and frustration and protectiveness into that one kiss.

When we pulled apart, her forehead rested against mine.

“Now that,” she murmured. “Was worth the trip.” She glanced down.

Fuck yeah, I was rock hard. “I’ll get dressed.”

Birdie rubbed her arms, looking mighty disappointed, but she didn’t move to stop me as I pulled on my jeans.

We rode back in silence, her arms tight around my waist.

Birdie slipped off the bike and looked up at me.

“Thanks for the ride, Rocky.”

I nodded. “Anytime, Birdie.”

She walked inside.

And I stood there in the dark, the scent of her still clingin’ to my shirt.

And something else. I’d caught a whiff of something in the woods. Something was comin’. War. Blood. A reckoning.

But for tonight? I’d had a taste of peace.

And it tasted like her.