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Alex was so fascinated with their behavior and his, she neglected to keep her eye on the sun. Just as the last person was blessed by Barlow, and everyone turned to her, the rays of dawn cast over her face, and she shifted.
Julian waited for Alex to break and run—to burst into the grocery store, the bank, the café and try to find something, anything with which to cover herself.
But to her credit, she didn’t. She straightened from four legs to two, either refusing to be embarrassed by her nakedness or not embarrassed at all. If that was the case, she was adapting to being a werewolf much quicker than most. Even Alana—
Julian frowned. Alana had needed help to adjust; she hadn’t quite fit in. They’d fallen in love while Julian instructed the shy, sweet young woman in the ways of the werewolf world.
He pulled his attention from the past into the present where his people stood naked in the dawn’s hazy light. No one cared. They were pack. They had nothing whatsoever to hide.
“I told you to shift,” he murmured. “If you’d have listened, you could have grabbed some clothes before I called them.”
“I’ll shift when I want to,” she said. “Or when I have to. Not when you tell me to.”
He’d been right about her defying him. And about his enjoying it.
“Besides,” she continued. “They don’t have clothes; you don’t have clothes. Why should I have clothes?”
“Frostbite?”
“I’ll heal frostbite easier than I healed—” She glanced at her ribs. The bruises and the scratches were gone. She met his eyes and shrugged.
His people began to shuffle impatiently. The initial change left them warm enough to withstand the extreme cold. But the longer they were human, the more human they were, and while frostbite could be healed, it would have to wait until the moon rose to do so completely. A day of frostbite on tender extremities would not be a day full of sunshine.
“Everyone welcome Alexandra Trevalyn,” he said. “Alex. She is one of us.”
He felt her swift glance. Had she thought he would reveal her past? If his pack knew she was the hunter who had killed his wife, they would kill her.
If he’d wanted her dead, he would have ended her himself. Before he’d made her a werewolf.
Everyone moved closer, welcoming her. Pack members were touchy-feely, and that made Alex uncomfortable. Julian crossed his arms over his chest and watched as she tried not to squirm.
A sudden insight stunned him. He had not planned to bring her here. Therefore, he had not brought along the serum that would allow her to touch anyone but him in human form. Which meant she should now be writhing on the ground in agony along with everyone who had touched her.
“Enough,” he barked.
His people turned to him in surprise. Welcoming a new pack member meant getting to know their scent, their touch, and letting the new member get to know yours. They believed Alex had taken her medicine, as they all had. So why was he stopping them?
Since he couldn’t tell them that something very strange was going on, he chose to tell them nothing.
“Ella.” Julian addressed the oldest female in the pack—a dark, thin Frenchwoman who appeared the same age as Alex but in truth had narrowly escaped the guillotine during la révolution. “See that she gets settled.”
Ella moved forward, hand outstretched. Alex frowned, staring at Ella’s palm as if she had no idea what the woman wanted. She wasn’t afraid; she must have come to the conclusion that since she could touch Julian, she could touch everyone.
Alex backed up a few steps. “I’ll—uh—be right back.” She moved out of the crowd and came to Julian. “Where will I stay?”
“With Ella.”
“But I—” She broke off, biting her lip. “I just met her.”
“You just met everyone.”
“Not you.”
Julian blinked. “You want to stay with me?”
“I don’t want to,” she said at the same time he said, “That wouldn’t be smart.”
“Because of yesterday?” she asked.
