Page 3 of Pack Kasen: Part 1

I met Simon and Trevor when my dorm mates dragged me out and turned group outings into surprise double dates because of my refusal to put myself out there.

It’s nearly 10 when I step out of my dorm.

But not to hunt a killer.

I need to silence the itch in my bones.

I head for the bus stop about ten minutes away from my dorm building. After my car broke down a week ago in a quiet suburb that I had no reason to be, I haven’t wanted to risk driving anywhere but to class or the mall in case it happens again.

The bus comes every thirty minutes, and I don’t have long to wait before I jump on a bus headed out to the suburbs, getting off near a park that closed at 9.

This neighborhood must go to bed early, because most of the lights in the nearby homes are off. No one is around to see me climb over the black gate and find a nice dark corner.

I step out of my gray Nikes and quickly strip out of my socks, black long-sleeve T-shirt, black denim coat and my skinny jeans, tucking everything into a hedge. I scratch my arm on a thorn as I pull my hand out and watch as the long, shallow cut stops bleeding and fades into nothing in under ten seconds.

As the moonlight reflects over a stone a few feet in front of me, I wait in the quiet darkness, head down, taking another long moment to ensure I’m alone. No one can see what I do. If even one person did, my life would be over.

My long brown hair hangs around my face as I close my eyes. Ignoring the tiny insects crawling over me, I turn my attention inward.

We’re just having a quick run tonight,I tell my wolf sternly. Just to get rid of this itchy feeling. I thought I could ignore it until graduation, but I can’t. I need this to feel sane.No chasing bunnies or howling.

I don’t think there are any bunnies around here. I can’t smell them. If there are, my wolf would make it her mission to find them.

My wolf huffs, annoyed.

If you so much as howl at the moon one time, I won’t change for a month,I warn her.

It’s a promise I can’t keep.

The need to shift is an itch inside my skin. It grows more intense the longer I leave it, and as someone who went through the foster care system and didn’t always have a chance to slip away, I know all about the intensity of an itch you can’t reach inside yourself to scratch.

My wolf is silent and guilt twists in my belly.

It’s for both our sakes, okay? It’s not safe here. After graduation, we can go on a proper hike in the mountains for days.

An image of a lean, chocolate brown wolf with pale blue eyes pounces on a cute rabbit who shrieks in pain.

My stomach rumbles as I twist my lips.

Sure. Why not,I concede.

She can have her bunny, and I can have a break from all the overpowering stenches that comes from living so close to so many people.

Like letting an excited dog off a leash, my wolf is eager to hunt, and I don’t like to admit to myself, but I am too.

It feels like fire. Like electric currents whispering over my skin, scratching at my bones, and making the important things, tests, always being normal, keeping people at a distance, unimportant.

New priorities take place.

The smell of earth beneath our paws, the sleek light dancing over our fur.

The eagerness to hunt and play.

I blink my eyes open seconds later and my world is a sharper, brighter one than before.

My wolf picks up a scent. Small. Earthy. A mole.

Don’t,I warn her, speaking directly into her mind because I don’t have a human mouth to shape into words right now.

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