Page 41 of Bitten Shifter

My balance also feels different—more centred, lower, and stable. I crouch, testing the muscles in my legs. They are tighter than I expected.

“Okay,” I say, my voice sounding strange in my blocked ears.

I assume a basic Judo stance, one I’ve repeated thousands of times. This time, however, it’s too easy. My body reacts before my mind can catch up, flowing into the movement. I shift my weight, testing a throw in slow motion, and nearly stumble when the force comes too strong, too fast.

“What the heck?” I pause, concentrating on my feet, rolling from heel to toe and feeling the floor beneath me. My steps are lighter and more precise.

I’ve lived with awkward, sometimes clumsy joints, but suddenly everything fits. A grin spreads across my face before I can quell it. I’m terrified and exhilarated all at the same time. I’m faster, stronger, more agile than I ever imagined.

I spend the next couple of hours doing light gymnastics, footwork drills, and strength exercises to adjust to this new body.

After the first hour, I need to breathe properly, so I remove the cotton from my nose.

After two hours, I feel calmer. The exercise helps, and being immersed in my own scent grounds me. My vision is also less distracting, though sound remains a problem.

I’ve got a plan.

First, I go online and order some noise-cancelling headphones—the sort they say can block out everything short of an air raid siren. Then I add various strongly scented items to my cart: menthol, vanilla, and eucalyptus. Anything I can apply near my nostrils to blunt this overwhelming sense of smell. It might be ridiculous but I’m willing to experiment; I will try anything.

If I can mute these senses, even a little bit, I might stand a chance of feeling normal.

Next, I add a pair of sunglasses. Brightness isn’t really the issue, but maybe wearing tinted lenses will trick my brain into thinking I’ve got a new prescription—a sort of mind-optical placebo. I don’t know. It’s worth a shot. Anything beats teetering on the brink of a sensory meltdown.

I fill my cart to meet the minimum delivery requirement and hit send. Relief fills me when the screen confirms my items will arrive tonight. Maybe the universe is cutting me some slack for once.

Then I order a takeaway.

Whatever is happening inside me demands food, and I’m not about to argue. If movies and books have taught me anything, it’s that when you are dealing with a werewolf, vampire, or any other supernatural creature, you always feed the beast.

Chinese it is.

While I wait for both deliveries, I jump in the shower and scrub away the sweat from earlier. The exercise cleared my mind, but now I’m sticky and uncomfortable.

After towelling off, I grab a pair of scissors and tackle my hair.

Clumps of wet, unruly strands fall to the floor as I hack away. By the time I’m finished, it’s still halfway down my back, but at least it’s not as wild. It will do for now. I will go to a proper hairdresser eventually, but for now, I need to feel like I’m taking back control of my life.

I’ve got this.

Everything is going to be okay. I have to stay positive and keep moving forward.

When the deliveries arrive, I waste no time testing different fragrances.

The first few items are a bust—too strong, too weak, or just plain useless. But then I find a vanilla lip balm. I smear it across my lips and dab some under my nose. The scent is warm, sweet, and just strong enough to drown out the most overwhelming odours without stinging my nostrils.

The sunglasses help, too. They feel like a shield, even if it’s all in my head. The headphones are a godsend, silencing the constant drone of noise to a low, manageable hum.

Sure, I probably look completely ridiculous—a mismatched mess of sunglasses, headphones, and shiny vanilla-scented mouth and nose—but at least I’m no longer shoving cotton wool up my nose.

Small victories.

I settle down with the absurd amount of Chinese food I’ve ordered—enough for two—and eat every bite. By the time I’m finished, I feel stronger and steadier.

For the first time since all this started, I feel almost… okay.

If they don’t kill me, I might just be all right.

Chapter Seventeen

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