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I’m still in my fur, because though there aren’t any normals around, a gigantic wolf sniffing at a door is a lot less noticeable than a naked woman.
I double check the scent—stars and likely expensive perfume—before head-butting it again, this time twice in a row to sound more like a knock.
Emilia opens the door, her eyes so wide the whites are visible the whole way around. She steps back, throws her hands up offensively, and whispers, “What do you want?”
I sigh.
She hasn’t moved enough for me to come inside, shift, and tell her what I want.
So I sit on my haunches, put a dopey smile on my wolfy face, and offer her my big, furry paw.
She looks at my paw, my eyes, back to my paw, back to my eyes. Her nervous laugh breaks the tension, and she reaches for my head.
To pet me.
I mean, it is my fault. I acted like a dog to get her to calm down, but that did not mean I wanted her touching me, so I dodge her hand with a quick shift of my weight and curl my lip at her when she gives me a questioning look.
“OK, no petting. Got it. Well, what do you want, then?”
I can’t help rolling my eyes. She’s leading the biggest coven on the East Coast and can’t tell I want to come inside? I let out a huff, rise from my haunches and wiggle past her into the room before shifting back to my human form.
“Grab a robe for me, will ya?” I ask as she stares at me, dumbfounded, like she’s never seen a wolf shifter before.
When she returns with her own robe—silly of me to think a place like this would offer complimentary robes—I struggle to get it closed and make do with a large swath of thigh still exposed.
“You really didn’t get that I wanted to come in?” I ask and plop down on the made bed. For a crummy motel, it was clean and recently renovated. Still looked crummy from the outside, though. “And why are you staying here?” I ask.
Emilia shakes her head, clearing the glazed expression from her eyes. “Sorry, I’m more of a cat person, and I’m staying here because it’s the closest place to my brother that’s not owned by your pack.”
Emilia chews on her thumbnail as she sits in the only chair in the room, something I’ve never once seen her do.
I’ve actually never seen the tiny witch nervous before now.
“What’s your deal? Have you never seen a wolf shifter before?”
She scoffs at me, like she’s so fond of doing. “Oh, I’ve seen plenty. You’re no wolf shifter, though.”
“What? What are you saying?”
She flaps her hands in front of me, wildly gesturing to my entire body. “Willa! You’re taller than me in wolf form.”
“You’re small.”
“Uh huh, but your wolf mouth is full of pointy, razor-sharp teeth, and your eyes were totally black. And your paws… enormous with barbed and curved claws. You… Willa, you looked like some kind of hell hound.”
“Huh. Well, I was pretty mad, so…”
Emilia throws her hands up. “Mary’s donkey, Willa, you’re not getting it. You’ve changed into something I’ve never seen before, and I’m afraid it has something to do with the ancestral witch knowledge you’re keeping.”
My shoulders sink, head falling forward into my hands. “Well, here’s the cherry on that shit sundae. A soul or personality or left-over imprint of magic in Drago just tried its best to…” The words dry in my throat, and I stare off, focusing on a spot over Emilia’s head on the gray wall.
I can’t get the words out.
Emilia dries her thumb on her lace skirt and sits next to me on the bed, taking my hand.
“What happened?” she asks softly.
I close my eyes and draw in a slow breath.
