Page 40 of Howling Mad
He shrugs.“It’s his loss.Besides, I’ve made my choice.”The heat in his eyes makes my pulse quicken.
The drive to Crescent Preserve takes about forty minutes, giving us time to decompress from the parental ambush.The preserve is a large protected area with designated shifter zones, where we can run freely without fear of human hikers stumbling upon naked people emerging from the woods.
We park in a secluded lot and check in at the ranger station, where they assign us a private shifting area.The ranger, a grizzled old grizzly shifter named Tom, marks our path on a map.
“Full moon tonight,” he notes with a knowing smile.“Special occasion?”
“Just a run,” I say, heat rising in my cheeks.
“Mmmhmm.”He winks at Michael.“The Ridge Trail has the best moonlight views.Very...romantic.”
We thank him and head out, following the marked path deeper into the woods.The preserve is beautiful with ancient trees towering overhead, and the rich scent of earth and growing things filling the air.
After about twenty minutes of hiking, we reach our designated shifting area.The small clearing is surrounded by dense foliage and marked with discreet shifter symbols that humans would overlook.
“This is perfect,” Michael says, setting down our small backpack.“Private, but with easy access to the running trails.”
The moment suddenly feels intensely significant.We’ve seen each other naked before, but shifting is different.More vulnerable and more intimate.It’s exposing your most primal self, the creature beneath the human façade.
He clearly senses my hesitation.“We can take turns if you prefer.”
I shake my head.“No, I want to do this together.”
We undress without speaking, the air between us charged with anticipation.I’ve never felt self-conscious about my body with Michael, but this feels different.Sacred, almost.
Standing bare beneath the forest canopy, I meet his eyes.“Ready?”
He nods, and we begin the shift simultaneously.The transformation is second nature to us both.Bones reshaping, muscles realigning, and fur sprouting along skin.A wolf’s shift isn’t painful if you don’t fight it, and I’ve learned to embrace rather than resist the change.
Within moments, two wolves stand in the clearing where humans had been.Michael’s wolf form is sleek and powerful, his coat a rich gray with silver markings that catch the sunlight.He’s larger than an ordinary wolf but leaner than most male shifters, built for speed rather than brute strength.
I pad toward him, letting him see me fully.My wolf form is smaller than average, with unusual silver-tipped fur that has always set me apart in my pack.I circle him once, letting our scents mingle.
Michael makes a soft sound in his throat—not quite a growl but not quite a whine—and bumps his muzzle against mine.The gesture is affectionate and intimate.I respond by nipping playfully at his ear and then darting away toward the trail, inviting him to chase.
He follows immediately, and we’re running together through the forest, two wolves weaving between ancient trees.There’s pure joy in this kind of freedom.The earth beneath our paws, the wind in our fur, instinct guiding our movements.Despite our different builds, we find an easy rhythm together, perfectly in sync.
Michael runs with the same elegant efficiency he brings to his human life—calculated bursts of speed, precise turns, and intelligent use of terrain.I’m more playful, darting off the path occasionally to investigate interesting scents or dash through patches of sunlight.
We reach the Ridge Trail, climbing higher until we burst from the tree line onto a rocky outcropping overlooking the forest below.The view is spectacular.Miles of green canopy stretching toward distant mountains, a ribbon of river gleaming in the afternoon sun.
Michael nudges me with his muzzle, directing my attention upward.The moon is already visible, a pale ghost in the daylight sky, waiting to reach its full glory tonight.The sight of it sends a tremor of anticipation through both our wolves.
We rest there a while, side by side, our fur brushing.There’s communication in this silence, and a sharing of selves beyond words.I can feel his contentment and wonder at finding someone who runs with him this way.My wolf feels the same recognition and rightness I’ve never experienced before.
When we finally head back toward our shifting area, the sun has begun its descent.The preserve will close to new entries soon, but we’ve registered for overnight access.Back in the clearing, we shift to human form almost simultaneously.The sensation is strange after hours in wolf shape, with limbs stretching, fur receding, and vocal cords rearranging for human speech.
We stand facing each other, breathing hard from our run, skin flushed with exertion and something more primal.Michael’s eyes still hold a hint of wolf gold, and I know mine must look the same.Our beasts are close to the surface.
“That was...”Michael begins and then stops, apparently unable to find adequate words.
“I know,” I say, stepping closer to him.“I’ve never run with anyone like that before.”
“Me neither.”His voice is husky, deeper than usual.“It felt like…”
“Like coming home,” I finish for him.
His eyes darken, and he closes the distance between us, pulling me against him.His skin is hot against mine, and his heart pounds beneath my palm as I press it to his chest.When our lips meet, it’s with the wild hunger of wolves, not the careful restraint of humans.
