Page 34 of Strawberry Moon

But when I put my shirt aside, he put his in there too. It sat there, bundled beside mine, warm with his body heat. My wolf almost purred, thinking how his scent would mix with mine, how I’d pull my clothes out at the end and they’d smell like him. Like us.

I heard his breath catch, and when I turned, he was undoing his belt buckle. He reached for his fly, and the poor man was damn near hyperventilating.

“Hey—” I stepped toward him, and my hands closed over his. Stilling them.

He gasped, and his smooth stomach pressed against the backs of my knuckles. I had to fight the urge to push back against him, touch more of his silken skin.

“You can do this, Archer.”

He was tense as he swallowed, but a second later, he was nodding. Still avoiding my eyes, but it was a start.

“And you don’t have to get naked in front of the whole pack if you don’t want to. I mean, we’re not shy. Nobody’s gonna judge you. But if you want to leave your pants on and shift, I’ll help you out of ’em. Put ’em up when you’re done.”

Already, Archer was nodding.

“Just breathe with me for a second.” I held tight to both his hands, rubbed my fingers across the backs.

Finally, he met my eye again.

And holy fuck. His scent hit me like a tractor trailer made of warmth and sunlight, and soft as fresh peaches.

My wolf growled. Damn, I felt it vibrating in my throat.

My hands clenched on his. All I wanted was to hold him there, keep him close. Wolf or man, it didn’t fucking matter.

But in the end, I didn’t need to take him through breathing, talk him through the shift.

His hands were in mine one second, and the next, claws dug into my palms. I let him go, and he fell to all fours.

I didn’t need to help him out of his clothes. He leapt out of them on his own, and it was an afterthought to ball them up and shove them in the cubby—an impulse, only because I’d promised.

Archer took off. Running. The copper ridge of fur down his back glistening in the moonlight.

My wolf took over. He ran, and we followed.

We’d follow him anywhere.

24

Archer

Running.

I’d never been much of a runner, preferring to get my cardio by way of sciencing strenuously. Okay, yeah, fine, not at all.

And yet, there was something about that night. Something about the full moon hanging in the sky like a fat drop of candle wax, glowing softly down on us. Something about the look Ford McKesson was giving me, like he wanted to chase me down and eat me alive, but not in the way I’d always thought he did.

Something that made me want to run forever. The breeze rippled through the fur on my back as I pressed forward, dodging left around one tree, and right around the next. My tongue hung out of my mouth, lolling to one side in something that felt like a grin as I pushed madly forward and forward and forward, straining my legs to the limit of their ability as I ran headlong into the woods that surrounded Grovetown.

Every now and then, there was the sound of a twig snapping behind me, or claws against tree bark, or just the ragged sound of another wolf panting. Chasing me.

Being chased through the woods should feel like a nightmare, right? Like someone was planning my grisly demise, deep in the dark forest?

But the woods weren’t frightening. They were magical, covered in a sparkling sheen of moonlight, leaves rustling and sighing all around, and the trees echoing with the sound of a happy wolf pack.

Myhappy wolf pack, maybe.

And the panting behind me. Ford panting, as he chased me through the woods. As he slowed when I lost my footing, letting me stay ahead. As he sped when I did, sliding past one tree and then another, fur skimming bark in what was almost a dance as we dodged between them, one after another.

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