Warner and I ride our motorcycles, me slightly ahead, roaring down a two-lane mountain road in the darkness of late evening. When my brother suggested we head out of town for a run in our other forms, I realized that was exactly what I needed to deal with the discomfort I’d been struggling with these past few weeks.
And my failed date.
After visiting the librarian’s house, my nerve endings constantly itch. I blame my wolf, who wants to go back and create a comfortable den for the woman he sees as our future mate.
He wants to scare away the critters destroying her electricity.
He wants to patch the hole in her roof.
He wants to fix the rotting boards in her front porch.
Apparently, the need to find a mate is even more fierce than I first realized.
And, if anything, the outing with Sylvia seems to have made my wolf more anxious. Like the animal is aware of the fact that I’m actively fighting against its preferences.
This run was a boon in a way. Giving the beast inside me a chance to get out and take the lead. Shake off the nervous energy that was a constant hum in my veins. For the first time in a while, I start to relax. Even now, back in my human form, I’m feeling good. In control.
The sight of Warner coming up on my right and gesturing to me focuses my mind on the present moment.
“I’m pulling over,”he signs, then points behind him, where we just passed a parked truck on the side of the road.
The vehicle is in a small dirt lot that feeds a couple of trailheads. There’s no reason for Warner to be concerned by a vehicle there.
Still, he seems intent on stopping, and I want to know why.
Instead of continuing on to town, I park alongside him, the roar of our bikes fading as we both shut off our engines.
“You can keep going. That’s Zoey Gunner’s truck. I want to see why she’s out here.” Warner scans the forest, a tense set to his shoulders.
The name is familiar, but it takes me a moment. Then I remember she’s the woman who was having a drink at The Rabbit Hole the other night when the pack returned from a group ride. Most everyone in town knows that’s the meeting place of The Dark Moon Riders. Only some know our biker gang is formed entirely of wolves. The woman, Zoey, was clearly new to town and oblivious. Warner was interested in the stranger, but I figured he just wanted a hookup. My brother has never bothered with a relationship.
What is it about this human that has him concerned?
“Why?” is all I ask aloud.
He climbs off his bike. “She’s a city girl. Want to make sure she hasn’t gotten lost in the woods.”
Letting the scents of the forest surround me, all my relaxation from our run disappears. Entwined with the normal smell of pine and moss and earth is something else. A tart, homey scent.
“Juliet is here,” I announce without thought.
“Juliet?” Warner asks. “The librarian?”
I nod, not offering anything else, even when he gives me a curious look.
My brother doesn’t push, instead choosing to follow the trail into the trees.
I let Warner lead the way, mainly because my wolf is itching to spearhead this hunt. That is not an urge I want to give in to so close to the object of his fascination. Who knows what the animal will do once we find her?
Even in our human forms, we move soundlessly through the forest, made easier by the fact that there is a trail leading to the water. Feminine voices drift on the night breeze once we reach Yellow Pine Lake. In the distance, a fire glows. Fighting the neediness of my wolf, I hang back in the tree line instead of stepping out on to the rocky shore, like Warner. There’s no reason Juliet needs to know I’m here.
“Guess they’re not in trouble,” Warner says, looking around for me, only to find I’m not at his side. He stares at the shadows I wait in. “You’re being fucking weird.”
Because I don’t feel like interacting with a sassy human who smells good?
Whatever. Who cares what he thinks?
Warner continues on without me, and I head in the same direction, only in the opaque darkness of the forest.
