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She didn’t know the answer to that. “Somethingbig,” she settled on. Maybe why she couldn’t “shift” like everyone else? Or why she couldn’t remember a single thing about her father’s murder?
Or why every single time she was around McGoven, a part of her wanted to…
Bite him?Kiss him? More?Hell, she didn’t know.
She wasn’t used to dealing with such a volatile range of emotions. Up until now, she had always excelled at keeping them locked up tight—but these days, it seemed as if everything was pouring out all at once. And she couldn’t stop it.
“I just don’t feel like myself anymore,” she added half-heartedly.
In some ways, that was a good thing. Loren Connors wasn’t the same meek little girl from a week ago. This new iteration wanted to punch something. Kick. Stomp her feet and screech for someone to tell her the truth.
Unfortunately for her, Naomi’s presence was a lit match meeting dry tinder.
Three days,she tried to tell herself. He promised her that much. But since when did anyone keep their promises?
“Um.” Micha cleared his throat. “I kind of meant…how are you holding up, withthat?” He jerked his head toward the living room, where Naomi still sat, seething, on the couch. “New bloods can be a little prickly. It’s their emotions, you know. They’re all out of whack. Try not to take it personally. Their weird vibes can throw everything off. Especially if…” He flashed a sheepish grin. “There is already some unresolved tension going on.”
Loren sighed and shook her head.Don’t even go there.Naomi’s presence irritated the hell out of her—only she didn’t know why.Whenever she caught sight of that blond head peeking over the back of the couch, something in hergrowled.
“I need some air,” she said finally, setting the plate down in the sink.
She slipped through the back door before Micha could react. In one long stride, she crossed the porch and headed straight toward the west field.
Her teeth chattered. The bitter cold made her instantly regret not grabbing her jacket and shoes. Ironically, the chill seemed to help her finally regain enough clarity to think—only it wasn’t all happy, pretty thoughts.
She was frowning by the time she made it into the barn. Like always, Bunny, Esther, and Xavier greeted her the second she stumbled inside. They didn’t seem too worse for wear, despite everything that had happened around them these past few days.
With a sigh, Loren worked the latch on the nearest stall, intending to slip inside and disappear, like she used to when seeking an escape from her father.
Before she could even get the door open, a shadow fell across the floor. The horses grunted their alarm, nearly drowning out the deep voice that echoed throughout the wide space.
“You okay?”
She looked back, unsurprised by the figure standing in the doorway, hands carefully at his sides. He had showered, swapping out the mud-stained clothing for a clean pair of jeans and a sweater. Her belly flipped at the sight. He didn’t require fangs and fur to seem intimidating.
“I…I thought you were sleeping,” she stammered.
Despite the freshened appearance, he still looked exhausted. His hair was a rumpled mess, and he yawned, even as he shifted to reveal something he held in one hand.
“It’s kind of hard to sleep amid tension,” he explained.
Loren flushed crimson. Obviously, he had heard everything that happened between her and Naomi. He didn’t seem to hold a grudge, though.
“Here.” He extended his arm, offering what she realized was another windbreaker, in black this time. “It might snow.”
“Can you tell?” she wondered out loud. When she glanced through the doorway, the sky was the usual dreary shade of gray.
He shrugged and took a small step closer. “It’s a combination of moisture in the air and the temperature. You’ll be able to pick up on it eventually.”
Loren doubted that. She couldn’t smell anything but pine. Still, she took the windbreaker and slipped it on without comment. He wasn’t wearing a jacket himself, though—not that the cold seemed to affect him. Standing there on bare feet, he didn’t even have the decency to shiver.
“Come here—” He surprised her by jerking his head toward the front of the barn, but his voice lacked the urgency of an order. “I…I want to show you something.”
Loren inched closer, but he only pointed to the tack supply hanging on the nearby shelves.
“Look under the crate over there.”
She did and found something that made her gasp—a black riding helmet. Ignoring his effect on the horses, the helmet was way too small for someone of his size anyway. When she tried it on at his urging, it fit her well enough.
