The walk back is quiet. Both of us lost in thought and not sure what to say. His words have planted a seed of fear in the pit of my stomach, to which I keep churning over and over.
Is it possible that happened to me? I lost control when I shifted? But, I don't even remember shifting. Shouldn't I remember that much?
Is the wolf part of me capable of taking control over my body and forcing me to shift without being aware of it?
There's still so much that I don't understand about being a shifter. The concept is still foreign to me and a flicker of doubt still resides in my head.
But as Evan had pointed out earlier, I did change. I saw it with my own two eyes. My hands had changed shape and grew fur. There is no denying that fact, no matter how bizarre it sounds.
I could have been hallucinating? It hasn't happened again, so there's not enough proof to show otherwise.
Evan said he had followed me out here. I don't know for sure how far away I am from home, but there's no chance that I could go this far on my own two feet.
And I still don't remember a thing. Why? It's so frustrating and scary at the same time!
I miss my mama. Mama always knew how to ground me and say what I needed to hear. I wanted to hear it from her—the truth; whatever the truth is.
Evan still holds my hand as we walk, but my hand is limp in his. My mind is too preoccupied with thoughts of my parents, shifting, Evan, and the ever-persistent mystery as to how I got out here and why I can’t remember any of it. What if I always lose my memory when I shift? Would that have some effect on my shift as well? Would I have any control at all then?
Knots twist my stomach as my mind continues to churn over and over with the same questions and the lack of answers.
The sky continues to darken as we walk and by the time we return to the cabin, the smell of rain is on the breeze, mixed with wildflowers.
My stomach growls, catching Evan’s attention as we walk around the cabin to the front door. His lips curve up, and I feel relieved to see him smile after our tense trek back.
“Me too. And thankfully, Ali restocked the pantry yesterday, so we don’t have to worry about hunting for our lunch today.”
“Darn. I was really looking forward to you catching me a fish.”
He punches my arm playfully, the sparkle back in his eyes. “If you think you can handle cleaning it, I can try my very best to—”
“God no! I was just kidding!” I cringe at the thought of descaling and gutting a fish, suddenly losing my appetite.
He grins at me. “I know.”
I follow him up the porch and into the cabin, twisting the hem of the sundress Alicia put me in the day before between my fingers. Within moments of stepping inside, it begins to drizzle, and carries on in this manner until late in the evening, maybe an hour before the sunset.
Evan and I cozy up on the couch, chatting until it grows dark and he gets up to light an oil lantern. We talk about books, movies, and other things that interest us. The topic of wolf-shifters behind us, but still present in the back of my mind, is a much-needed change in subject. As important as it is that I learn everything I need to about being a shifter, I really needed to learn more about Evan as a person. I had already spent enough time with him as a wolf to know what he is like in that form, but humans are much more complex than animals.
He tells me about his family, how his oldest sister would boss every one of her siblings around in his childhood, and how she could catch every lie ever uttered. “You never wanted to cross Leah or tell her a lie,” he says. “She’d always catch you and pull you by the ear to Mom or Dad and inform them of your wrong-doings.” He laughs. “When we got older, she eased up on us, but we were already whipped by then.”
I smile at him. “Sounds like my mama. I could never sneak anything past her. She’d catch me every time.”
“She’s got a nose for mischief, huh?”
I shrug. “I think it’s because I’m a bad liar.”
He frowns. “Well, I hope you’re better at keeping secrets than you are at lying because you have a lot more secrets to keep now.”
Nodding, I say, “Yeah, I can keep secrets. As long as Ava doesn’t grill me, we should be aight.”
“Ava?”
“My best friend,” I say with a sigh. “Bet she’s worried about me just as much as my parents are.”
He looks away, his eyes lowering to the floorboards. “I’m sorry about all this,” he says. “I forgot about your family and life back in Portland. I’m sure everyone’s worried about you, and I’m keeping you all to myself here.”
Biting on my bottom lip, I nod. I wonder how Mama’s doing these days, and I hope the strain hasn’t been too great on my father’s weak heart. As much as I have enjoyed Evan’s company, surely he knows that I have to go back home sometime soon? There are people who care about me, and I can’t keep them worrying.
He watches me as I think about my friends and family, and sighs. “I’ll call for Rick so we can get things sorted out and get you back home.”
He touches my shoulder as he pulls himself up from the couch and goes to the front door, taking his shirt off in the process and dropping it on the floor.
I look away as he steps out the door, his shorts falling to the ground. Through the open doorway, I hear the grinding of bones as they shift position within his body. The sound makes me shudder as I unconsciously rub my arms. Seconds later, a low howl that rises in pitch and volume fills the silence. He howls two more times then waits. When a reply comes, faint and far away, he raises his voice again. The vocal transactions take a few minutes before he returns, pulling his shorts on in the doorway.
He catches me still cringing from the sound of his bones shifting back into place, and I avoid his gaze as I wring my hands together in my lap.
I know it shouldn’t come as a surprise to me that the morphing of our bodies should sound that way, never mind the pain that must be involved in the process. Still, I can’t stop the panic from constricting my lungs and making it harder to breathe. It sounds like nails on a chalkboard to my ears, and I try not to curl up into a fetal position, knowing that someday soon, it will happen to me.
His golden eyes hover over me tenderly. “It’s okay,” he says, as he sits down beside me and wraps his arm around my shoulders. “You’ll get used to it, and then you won’t notice the pain or the sound.”
I want to feel reassured by his words, but I’m not.
I’m more terrified about what I am than ever before.
YOU ARE READING
Zara's Wolf (Book 1 of the Zara's Wolf Trilogy) BWWM
Werewolf[Complete] "He follows me around like a predator seeking a moment of weakness before he takes down his prey. But his eyes are soft and tell me a different story." Eighteen-year-old Zara is a born and raised African-American city girl. She's always...
