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A dark hissing sound by his feet silenced his laugh. He could hear it clearly over their alpha’s curses, and he turned slowly to see the ten-foot mama gator ready to attack. Most of his pack were the lucky insta-shift guys. Not so for Yordan. He took thirty agonizing seconds to move into his wolf body, and it came with excruciating bone-grinding and muscle-burn like every cell was being lit on fire. It used to take five minutes, but he’d reduced that time considerably. Still, thirty seconds was too long to take in front of a pissed-off gator.
A glance to his side showed him that everyone else was occupied with their own issues. Gummy, their alpha, had just turned his cursing on to two baby gators, each under three feet. That was large enough to take a hunk out of a man—or wolf’s—side. Fuse was holding his ribs from his guffaws, and Yordan couldn’t see Dreadhead and Error, but he could hear their curses. Even the new, wet-behind-the-ears NG Joey was busy lying ass-upward against a tree. He was groaning as he righted himself, so he was probably okay—but too far away to help. That meant Yordan was on his own as a human against the gator mama.
First step was to leap out of her way, but he was penned in on the sides, and jumping up into the truck might set him down on the smaller alligator up there. He’d seen it land there after the big boom. Best to back away—
Fuck!
The thing lunged, and it caught his boot. Like two beds of nails slamming down hard. Thank God he had on steel-toed boots or he’d be minus a paw next time he shifted. He screamed and dove forward, slamming his fist straight into the creature’s nearest eye. He’d done some research before coming down to the mosquito farm known as the Everglades, and the eyes were the most sensitive spot on a gator.
It worked. The gator cow opened her mouth with a hissing grunt that sounded like gas escaping from hell. He rolled away as fast as he could manage, trailing blood and probably getting infected with whatever lethal plague lived in this crap. Fortunately, Error came around the edge of the truck and got the thing straight between the eyes with a couple handfuls of swamp muck. Error was so named because he always screwed up computers but was a dead shot with a gun. Also with snowballs currently made of sludge.
He nailed the mama gator three more times before she started backing away.
Great, but they weren’t out of the swamp disaster yet. Yordan had to go wolf. Yippee for him, the agony in his foot would be drowned out by the agony in his entire body. Error peered at him while he kept a wary eye on whatever was in the truck.
“Go ahead. I’ll cover you while you shift.”
That was all he needed, and he began shucking clothes covered in swamp shit. Thirty seconds later, he was a whole and healthy timber wolf whose paws sank into the muck. Blech.
Once he was full wolf, he took point in defending his packmates from angry reptiles, big spiders, and whatever else the Everglades threw at them. They managed to corral the gator kids and mama long enough to pack up and head back to base camp.
Everyone was cursing Fuse’s name by the time the day was done. Every single one of them ended up shifting into their wolf forms until they looked like four-legged tar elementals. Just the sight alone had him laughing in high yips of amusement.
It was close to midnight before they got back to base, such as it was. One tent next to two tricked-out vans in a seedy campground. All of them were human again except Fuse, who wasn’t turning back into a man anytime soon. He knew he was in deep shit, so he was stretched out on the concrete in his wolf form. Funny thing was, even covered in all that shit, his wolf smelled better than the man, so nobody complained.
Yordan was contemplating his sleeping options when Gummy pointed at him and crooked his finger. Yordan put on his best Who me? expression before crossing to see what his alpha wanted. As he moved, he pulled up the image of that gator sailing overhead and reminded himself it had been one hell of a sight. Certainly worth the tongue-lashing that was coming his way.
He waited while his alpha chewed on the gummy worm for which he’d been named. Yordan could wait out anything, so he leaned against the side of the van as his gaze took in the stars above. Since they were far enough away from the city lights, the expanse above reminded him of his native Wisconsin, and he felt a surge of nostalgia. At least until Gummy spoke.
“Have you figured it out yet?”
“What?”
“Why you’ve turned into an asshole?”
Yordan frowned. “What?”
“You think I don’t know it was you pushing Fuse to light up a gator mound?”
“I didn’t—”
“Spare me. I know you started it. Fuse is great, but he’s not going to do something that creative unless someone gives him a push.” He jerked the floppy gummy worm in Yordan’s direction. “And you were behind those death masks in New Orleans last month and the smoke bomb in the church before that.”
“Neither of those was me,” he said.
“No, you were the one who poked the others until they blew up in stupid ways.”
Well, maybe that had been him. Sometimes when he got restless—when that itch started—he scratched at other people. Fuse was an easy target because he had a short fuse and a love of watching things go boom. That always made a guy smile. And while Yordan reflected on his past actions, Gummy kept at him.
“I’ve always thought of you as the cool head among these yahoos. You keep the team balanced and on track. But lately, you’ve been a real dick. You poke and poke until someone does something stupid.”
That wasn’t true…was it?
“It was a harmless prank,” he said. “We all have to blow off steam, Fuse most of all.”
“Maybe, but this time, you went too far. Any one of us could have been seriously hurt.”
“Talk to Fuse, then—”
