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She knew what this was, but why was Gwen involved? Had they so badly wanted her to accompany them on the full moon run that they’d convinced her employer to transport her?
Gwen, leading the way, opened the door to the lodge. Beyond the oak doors, Harlow was immediately greeted with the sound of party horns, blowing out from every part of the room. Red, pink, and white balloons filled the room, some inflated, some left haphazardly on the cement floor. And the biggest cake Harlow had ever seen in her life sat on a long table, just under a banner.
“Happy birthday, Harlow!” the pack shouted. Almost every member was waiting for her.
“How—” Harlow started, only to be cut off by Gwen.
“They know how to research,” Gwen shrugged noncommittally. “Also, I might have told them. Snuck a peek at your paperwork.”
“Okay, but—”
“I treat animals, dear,” Gwen said. “In a town like this, did you really think I didn’t know?”
“I mean, sure,” Harlow replied, flabbergasted. “But…”
“We can have this conversation later, sweetie. Just enjoy your party.”
Gwen walked out the door but not before Harlow caught Colt giving her an appreciative gesture and mouthing his thanks. Atlas stood beside him, as stoic as ever.
Lauren was conspicuously absent. Harlow wanted to feel bad about her not attending, but she felt like Lauren would have ruined the occasion.
Another fairly obvious thing about this party was the lack of any alcoholic beverages. Harlow pondered it for a moment and then quickly understood why.
“Hope you don’t mind the lack of booze,” Colt told her. “I don’t know if you’ve tried it, but drinking before a transformation? Not a great idea.”
Zachary nodded.
Maintaining control of your wolf form while shifted was difficult enough, but adding substances to that could prove disastrous.
“And speaking of which.” Atlas approached the three of them from behind, nursing a plate full of cake. “Would you like to join us on our run?”
“Atlas, I don’t think—” Colt started.
“I’d love to,” Harlow cut him off.
In the background, one of Harlow’s favorite songs played. They’d really done their homework. Everything about this party, alcohol aside, seemed catered to her. She felt so grateful to have people in her life who were so attentive and giving.
“Okay then,” Colt said.
“Awesome!” Atlas agreed.
The rest of the party was a very slow blur. Harlow appreciated the members of the pack who approached her, apologizing for treating her poorly or suspecting anything when the tracker arrived.
On the other hand, she also hated being reminded of it tonight—her night—when she was so desperate to escape from those circumstances. These past few weeks, minus everything she’d felt with Colt and Atlas, had been constant stress, as though she were the prey of some other apex predator.
At the party’s conclusion, Atlas led the pack through the sliding glass doors of the lodge’s rear. Harlow was always so impressed by how naturally he led, and by the respect he commanded, even in times of doubt.
At the back of the lodge, overlooking the barn and rolling fields, was a large pond, a flock of ducks drifting gracefully across its clear surface. The dying sunlight sparkled across the water, scattering burnt sienna and goldenrod over pale green.
A harsh wind blew in, gusting across rows of fruit trees and over the calm waters. The ducks picked up their feet and brandished their wings, taking off for distant skies. For the first time in a long time, Harlow felt truly free.
Atlas led the pack downward toward the barn. The animals had been evacuated, taken to distant pastures.
“Nervous?” Colt asked as he began to strip off his clothing, revealing the finer, chiseled details of his abdomen. Harlow could get lost in the contours of his muscles. She adored every drip of sweat that fell across his perfect form.
“Of course, she isn’t,” Atlas said, now also stripping down. His form was brash and abrasive, brutal and animalistic. The way his muscles bulged so prominently and fought every limitation of his body made Harlow yearn. She wanted that power. She wanted to own it, to harness it, to be dominated by it again. She couldn’t help but groan.
Normally, stripping down in front of each other was a routine activity for a pack of shifters on the eve of a full moon… nothing was sexual about any of it. For this one night of the month, as a wolf in a pack, your desire for privacy was compromised.
