Page 23 of Ruthlessly Mated (Shared Mates #2)

“You stole an ancient vampire’s most precious possession, tried to sneak it through a wolf run port; when you failed, you still snuck out, then came back, ran the vampire over, and have been insisting on running around inside this incredibly hostile city where literally everybody wants you dead…

but taking your true animal form would be crazy? ”

Conroy is starting to sound a little sarcastic too. I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m not shifting. It’s not safe.”

“You will be taking your animal form with the rest of us,” he orders.

A moment later, he is not himself.

I’ve never really liked Conroy. I’ve been attracted to him. I’ve come on his cock. I’ve been filled with his seed. I’ve lusted for him. I’ve saved his life, but liked him? Not so much.

“Oh, my…” I gasp as I am suddenly overcome with intense awe.

His transformation is nothing short of stunning. His thick, glossy hair becomes a thick dark pelt, his eyes are a piercing hazel green. He is huge, so large that it feels as though he won’t fit through the door.

We are playing a dangerous game. We are cornered. We are hunted. We are coming out fighting, and he looks the epitome of every single one of their nightmares. Rock City has manifested its very own worst case scenario, vampires surrounding it, wolves inhabiting it.

I let out a soft whimper as I look at him, suddenly seeing him for precisely who he is. He is cramped in his human form, made small by flesh. But like this? Like this I see every bit of his animal majesty.

The others follow immediate animal suit, stripping off their clothes and taking on their wolf selves as naturally and smoothly as I can imagine.

Damon is fucking stunning as a wolf. Sleek, dark, and powerful.

I realize now why his silence as a person is never strange.

It feels like a natural part of him, just like this is the natural part of him.

Why would he ever speak, when he is clearly a creature who does not need words?

I can see how he would easily fade into the shadows.

Tailor, of course, is elegant. Even as a wolf. He has a lighter tan hue to his fur, which gleams as though it has been licked into place with absolute precision. His eyes are a light brown, warm but piercing in their own way.

All three of them look at me expectantly. They’re waiting for me to perform the same magic trick. I’ve been avoiding this, and I’m going to keep avoiding it.

“You all look amazing,” I say. “So good! Wow!”

Words don’t distract wolves.

Conroy slides back into his human form. Easily. Unbothered-ly. Like it’s second nature to him. He stands in front of me, his thick cock drawing my eye as it hangs in front of me. Better to look at that than the disappointed expression on his face.

“You need to shift, Kita.”

“Nahhh,” I say. “I don’t really.”

His eyes narrow at me. “You can take your wolf form, can’t you?”

“Of course I can.”

He cocks his head to the side and folds his arms over his chest. Damon and Tailor seat themselves in their wolf forms, watching me with animal interest.

“We’ve never talked about when your parents died. You’ve mentioned it, but not in detail.”

“I was old enough.”

“Old enough to what?”

“Survive.”

“So you know how to take your wolf form,” he says.

“Yes. I just don’t want to right now.”

“You need to do it in order to escape with us.”

“I’ll do it when I need to, not before. This is awkward and weird. It’s like show and tell. What are we? Kids in school?”

His jaw tightens.

“Go into the bedroom, Kita. We need to talk.”

“You mean you want to talk about me.”

Conroy

I want to speak to my pack without our mate hearing.

Her insistence that she knows how to shift is cute, but I don’t believe it for a second.

Kita is the sort of person to demonstrate competence, not claim it.

The fact that she hasn’t shifted once since we met makes me think she definitely doesn’t know how to do it.

Tailor and Damon move back into their human forms. Damon dresses swiftly, takes Kita by the arm, and leads her back into the bedroom, with her protesting all the while.

“I don’t need to shift to prove I can shift. I’m a wolf, and you all know it!”

“She doesn’t know how to take it. Her wolf form.”

“I know,” Tailor says.

“How did we miss that?”

“We’ve only known her for a few days. And a wolf her age can usually be assumed to be used to shifts. We’ve had a lot of distractions since we met.”

“She’s so feral in every other way,” I muse. “I really thought she’d be an impressive she-wolf. I assumed she’d be eager to take that animal self.”

“Yes,” he agrees with a little smirk.

“If she doesn’t know how to shift, then we have to teach her.”

“How do you teach someone that old?”

Usually, young wolves start spontaneously shifting around seven or so.

Some precocious pups may even shift a little younger.

Humans are a delayed species, having infantile characteristics that last for months at a time that only last days in animals.

Seven or so is the age that animal and human start to come into alignment.

“If I had to guess, her parents died around then. If they hadn’t, they’d have noticed she wasn’t shifting.”

“Hm.”

“That’s why she didn’t want to run. She figured there’d be no way out for her. We can run at animal speed. We can blend in with wildlife. There are coyotes and desert dogs out here. But if she can’t shift…”

“Usually being mated brings on shifts. But we’ve bred her thoroughly.”

“Maybe we should keep trying,” I suggest.

He smirks. “She can just ride one of us. You’re big enough, Conroy. You could carry her.”

“Sure. It would slow me down and it would make her more vulnerable. We need to get her shifting.”

“What if she can’t?”

We know she’s a wolf. We can smell it on her. We can feel the bond. But she’s not entirely herself yet. She’s carrying around the pain of the past instead of becoming what nature intended her to be.