Page 30 of Someone Else's Wolf

CHAPTER TWELVE

"You shouldn't everneedto see me in my natural form," said Kirk, glaring at me as he took off his shirt. He was slim, but his muscles seemed brutally hard. Right now, his handsome face was set like a marble statue's.

I raised my hands. "Wasn't my idea, dude. If you want to skip it and tell them we did..."

The instructors seemed to think that part of the open and honest requirements of having a partner, whatever sort of job they would end up doing together, was to see the shifter's animal form at least once. To meet their other half, as it were — although that wasn't really accurate, according to Kirk.

"I'm still me," he'd said. "It's just my natural form."

I wasn't sure why he called it his natural form, and nobody else seemed to. Maybe he was more comfortable as a deer. He certainly seemed out of place often enough as a man.

We were in the forest, where he'd be most comfortable. It was just the two of us, and we could have lied. In the scheme of things, it wasn't particularly important. I admit I was curious, but I could respect Kirk's wishes. But Kirk was the kind of boneheaded person who would follow the letter of the law even if he'd rather do anything else.

Even though I honestly respected him for it most of the time, I hoped that wouldn't make him too hard to work with — or brutally honest with a patient when he needed to show some tact.

Around us, sunlight dappled, the leaves swayed, birds sang in the distance. It was gorgeous, idyllic. About a half-mile hike from where Peter and I had lain down and had sex.

That had been intense. I hadn't done anything stupid, like cry or say I loved him. It had felt like a close scrape, though, as emotional as I was feeling — and as intense as it still was having sex with him. It was a good sort of intensity, but it brought my barriers crashing down, and sometimes I didn't know how to get them back up fast enough. Those eyes of his, and the way he gave me his full, complete attention — it did things to me, and, combined with his sexual expertise, it made it really hard to be sensible and remember that it didn't really mean anything.

I tried to put it all out of my mind again. The way we'd left things, we'd keep seeing each other for now, and have sex, but it wasn't something I would dare try to label anymore. Peter had made it pretty clear that this was casual for him, and if I tried to make it serious, it would bum him out and he'd be sure to end things all the sooner.

Honestly, why did I even want anything serious? In this day and age, I should be happy to have an undemanding sexual partner. Why did I want labels and commitment?

Kirk undressed the rest of the way, his mouth twisted in a grumpiness that would have been funny if it hadn't been so intimidating. He had the muscular perfection of a statue, and something about his personality was just as hard and untouchable. I didn't feel turned on by his perfect body, just a kind of resigned jealousy that I would never look like that.

There was literally not one thing about him that wasn't perfect. He might as well have been an airbrushed model designed to appeal to aesthetics that were unattainable for the vast majority of humans.

He pointed at me, narrowing his eyes. "You'd better not try to touch my rack."

I raised my hands and looked suitably harmless, trying not to grin.Your boobs are safe from me, Kirk. Although I knew what he meant, of course.

Then he changed.

Lordly and cold-eyed, with a proud stance, head held high, short reddish-brown fur, slender legs and small cloven feet — and a huge rack. He was gorgeous, and I might have gasped. I wouldn't have dared touch any part of him.

He eyed me with a cold, judgmental gaze that was more intimidating than ever. I was more or less used to his grumpy curtness by now, after training with him and getting to know him, but he was even more intimidating in this form. There was nothing Bambi-like about this hard, dangerous creature.

His natural self, he'd said. And it did seem more natural for him than wearing a human form. He looked like the king of the forest — powerful, untamed danger. I stood unmoving as he walked around me, sniffing the air, judging me. He was big, and I was sure those antlers could do some real damage. I knew he wouldn't attack me, but I stayed very still and let him investigate.

He snuffled at the back of my head once, and I had the urge to laugh. Fortunately, I didn't. After what felt like a long time, but was probably only a few minutes, he shifted back. I began to breathe more easily, and I let myself change position a little. I'd been holding so still, my muscles were aching.

A hard hand clapped down on my shoulder, and I jumped a little. Then he released me and dressed slowly. I expected him to say something, but he didn't. I didn't really know what to say, either.

Would it be like this if Peter ever showed me his wolf form? Would it be better, worse, more intimate, or more enigmatic? It seemed like all of this should mean something, and yet it hadn't. It had simply been a requirement.

We walked back together. Kirk looked surprisingly drained.

Something occurred to me. "Do you need to eat?"

He nodded wearily. After a moment, as if he had finally remembered how to speak, he asked, "What did you think of my rack?"

"It was a very nice rack. You're amazing."

He nodded, as if he'd expected no less. He found nothing flattering in the simple truth: hewasamazing.

I wanted to ask what he'd thought of me while he was in that form, but I didn't dare.

To my surprise, he volunteered it. "You smell stronger when I'm a stag. But you're not so bad. I think you're kind of small inside."