Page 15 of Shift Happens
“This one reminds me of pack stories,” he said, holding up an indie comic with atmospheric artwork. “The way they use shadows to tell as much of the story as the words.”
“You have stories in your pack?” I asked, genuinely curious. “Like, wolf bedtime stories?”
He laughed. “Sort of. More like oral histories, legends passed down. But yes, we tell them at night, especially to pups.”
“Were you raised in the pack from birth?” I realized how little I actually knew about his background.
“Yes,” he nodded. “Born wolf, like most of us. My parents are still with the pack. They think my human fascination is strange but harmless.”
“And what do you think? Now that you’ve been living partly as a human for a while?”
He considered this thoughtfully. “I think… both forms have value. As a wolf, everything is simpler, more immediate. Scents,sounds, the joy of running through forest at night. But as a human…” He smiled. “There are comics. And conversations. And coffee, even if I can’t make it properly.”
I chuckled. “A comprehensive evaluation.”
“What about you?” he asked. “If you could shift forms, would you want to?”
“I’ve never thought about it,” I admitted. “It would be interesting, I guess. Experiencing the world from a different perspective.”
“It’s freeing,” he said softly. “When I’m wolf, there’s no overthinking. Just instinct and pack bonds and the present moment.”
“Sounds nice,” I murmured, suddenly aware of how close we were sitting, side by side against the headboard of one bed. “Humans tend to overthink everything.”
“I’ve noticed,” he said with a small smile. “Your heart is doing the thing again.”
I sighed. “What did we say about heartbeat monitoring?”
“Sorry.” He didn’t look sorry at all. “But it’s loud. And your scent…”
“Milo,” I warned.
“It’s just…” He shifted closer, eyes never leaving mine. “I can’t help noticing. And I keep wondering why. Why your heart beats faster when I’m near. Why your scent changes when our hands touch.”
My mouth went dry. “I think you know why.”
“Maybe,” he admitted. “But wolves are direct. We don’t guess at these things. We ask. Or show.”
The air between us felt charged, every molecule vibrating with potential. Milo was looking at me with those amber eyes, a question in them that I was suddenly tired of avoiding.
“How would a wolf show interest?” I asked, voice lower than I intended.
Instead of answering verbally, Milo leaned forward slowly, deliberately, and pressed his face against the curve of my neck. I felt his inhale, deep and purposeful, taking in my scent. The sensation of his nose skimming my skin sent shivers down my spine.
When he pulled back slightly, his pupils were dilated, eyes darker than usual. “Like that,” he murmured. “Scent is… intimate.”
We were inches apart now, the space between us heavy with unspoken words. I could feel his breath, see the pulse fluttering in his throat.
“And how would a human show interest?” he asked softly.
I answered by closing the distance between us, pressing my lips to his.
The kiss began tentatively, a gentle exploration. Milo’s lips were softer than I expected, and he made a small sound of surprise before responding with eager intensity. His hands came up to frame my face, holding me as if I might disappear.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Milo’s eyes had a slight amber glow to them.
“That was…” he breathed. “Can we do that again?”
Instead of answering, I pulled him back to me, kissing him more deeply this time. His mouth opened under mine, and I felt the slight scrape of teeth—sharper than they should be—against my lower lip. The sensation sent heat pooling low in my belly.
