She laughs. “He said it’s because I’m a dumbass who takes stupid chances, but that’s not true. I’m not a dumbass. I simply refuse to cower in the shadows because I was unlucky enough to get the short end of the genetic stick.” Her smile takes on a wry edge as she adds, “I’m Catherine, and I’m a hedgehog shifter.” She waits for a beat, then motions toward us with a graceful sweep of her arm. “Go ahead, it’s okay to laugh. I’m fully aware how ridiculous it sounds.”
“What do you want? And why are you here?” Ford asks in his deep, don’t-fuck-with-the-people-under-my-protection voice, clearly not in the mood to be charmed by this woman.
His crankiness floods my chest with warmth. Catherine is gorgeous, confident, clever, and a pro with the self-effacing humor, a combination that would have most men on their knees in thirty seconds. But Ford is still shielding me with his body, tensed to destroy both of these strangers if they make a wrong move.
Though, if this woman is telling the truth, we probably aren’t in much danger. I could take her in our human forms—she’s taller but I’m tougher—and I could end a hedgehog with a flick of my big toe.
“Prove it,” I say, stepping to Ford’s side to face the twins more fully.
Catherine arches a brow. “Prove what? That I’m a tiny prickly pear with legs in my shifter form?”
“Yes.” I turn my attention to the wolf, Alexander, “And you, prove that you have some manners. I’m clearly no threat to your sister, so skin up and tell us why you’re here.”
Catherine glances down at her brother, arching an elegant brow. They appear to telepathically confer for a moment—something most shifters can do in their furry forms, though not always in their human ones—then she smiles and bobs a breezy shoulder. “All right. That sounds fair. But if your big boy there comes after my brother, I’ll chew his finger off with my tiny, but very pointy teeth.”
Before Ford or I can reply, she lifts her arms into the air and swirls into a pirouette. When the turn is finished, her long black sundress lies in a puddle on the ground. It’s as if she’s disappeared.
But then the puddle ripples, twitches, and a second later a tiny but absurdly cute hedgehog wiggles out from one armhole.
Ford grunts. “Cute.”
It’s exactly what I was thinking, but I can’t help shooting him a hard look out of the corners of my eyes. It will be cute when we know what the hell these two are up to out here in the forest in the middle of nowhere.
He tips his head ever so slightly, seeming to understand me, even without telepathy.
I shift my attention back to the clearing in time to see Alexander finish his transformation to his human form. Immediately, I have to fight to keep my eyebrows from sliding up my forehead. Alexander is a very scary wolf, but a very beautiful man, with dark red hair with a hint of curl, a short, scruffy beard, piercing green eyes, and a body I can’t help but appreciate, even on a potentially dangerous stranger.
Especially considering he’s nude.
Growing up in a shifter community, you grow accustomed to casual nudity among all age groups early on, but there’s nothing casual about Alexander’s sculpted form. From his broad shoulders to his thick, powerful legs, and everything in between, he’s an artist’s study of the ideal man.
This time it’s Ford’s turn to shootmea hard look.
I clear my throat, pulling myself together before someone other than my extraordinarily perceptive stepbrother sees my appreciation for everything Alexander has going on. “So?” I arch a cold brow, taking a cue from my mother’s playbook and keeping things icy. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
Alexander crosses his arms over his chest and widens his stance, making no move to cover his crotch or get dressed.
But from my brief glance between his thighs, he has nothing to be self-conscious about in that area, either. Even his cock is gorgeous, a thing I’ve only thought once or twice before—one occasion being last night with Ford.
But I only assumed his cock was beautiful, hidden beneath his stretched-out sweatpants. I’ve never seen Ford bare, and I never will, because I’m dying a virgin queen.
Virgin queen, virgin queen, I silently chant as Alexander takes his sweet time responding.
“Consider us the Lost Moon U welcome wagon,” he finally offers in a silky baritone that sends a pleasant shiver up my spine.
“I don’t think so,” Ford shoots back. “How did you know we were here? This is supposed to be a top-secret safe house.”
“We guessed,” Alexander replies. “Catherine works in the president’s office. When she heard that Coralie was stopping to welcome two new recruits on her way to Montreal for a conference, we figured this was where she was headed. It’s where we were held before we started at Lost Moon two years ago.”
Catherine emits a soft squeak-grunt.
Alexander glances down at her before turning back to us. “Catherine wants to know if it’s cool for her to shift back. She thinks she explains things better than I do.”
“You’re doing a fine job,” I say, preferring his bluntness to Catherine’s smooth charm. “We don’t want to tire her out by shifting again too soon. So why come meet us? What do you want?”
“We wanted to check you out,” he says. “See if you’re ally material or another pair of fucking dickhead wolves.” His gaze lands more fully on me. “I’m glad we did. Jury’s still out on him, but you’re Loser Dorm material for sure, aren’t you? I’ve never smelled anything like you. There’s a hint of wolf there, but something…smoky underneath I can’t place.”
“As much as we’d love to keep chatting and sniffing,” Ford says, cutting in. “We have to get back to the safe house. Fast. Before someone else realizes we’re no longer on signal-blocking ground.”