by Zoe Chant
But Ken was shaking his head. “No, I didn't grow up in a pack, just a small family—and my mom wasn't a lion shifter, just my dad. No siblings, so it was only the two of us lions in our small town.”
“Oh. That must have been easier, then.” Maybe.
But Ken was grinning ruefully and shaking his head. “Nope. My dad was a paranoid guy. He was sure that we'd be caught at some point, and he put the fear of God into me about shifting. He was a stickler for rules, too—we were only allowed to shift on family vacations into the middle of the desert.”
“That sounds hard,” Lynn said involuntarily. Hard to imagine, too, when she'd grown up practically able to shift in her backyard. With the mountain forests stretching away for miles in several directions, and as unobtrusive as a lynx could be—and considering how well-known shifters were in the Glacier area, especially—there hadn't been anything like the kind of fear and paranoia that Ken was describing.
He nodded. “The Marines were an escape for me. And they felt less oppressive and constrained than home, if you can believe it. At least in the Corps, the rules were consistent, and it felt like I was working towards something.”
Lynn couldn’t help but picture it—an eighteen-year-old Ken. Skinny, maybe, and certainly in possession of that irreverent twinkle, maybe even more sarcastic as a teenager. Running away to the Marine Corps because he needed to live his life for something, instead of just in the pursuit of fear.
“Saved my life, probably,” he was reflecting. “Which not everyone can say about serving in combat. But it definitely put me on a different path than my dad’s.” A flash of that insouciant grin. “I keep waiting to see if I’m going to turn into him in my old age, but so far, so good.”
Lynn suppressed a smile. “It’s impressive,” she said instead. “That you’ve stayed so—so lighthearted. After an upbringing like that. And seeing overseas combat, too. That’s an admirable thing.”
He paused, turning to fix his eyes on her. Lynn wasn’t sure what his expression meant. He looked maybe a little surprised, and more serious than she was used to seeing him.
“You’re too good at that,” he said after a minute.
She stopped walking too. That sober stare was putting her off-balance. “Too good at what?”
“At making me take myself seriously.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth, as though searching for the smile that should’ve been there.
Lynn didn’t know whether he was expecting her to apologize, or what. Well, she wouldn’t, because she wanted to see what was beyond Ken’s careless smile and offhand jokes. As disconcerting as it was when he looked at her as though he was seeing right through her skin...she wanted to see more of it.
She hadn’t expected Ken Turner to be a complicated man. Now that it was becoming clear that he was, she wanted to know how, and why. Greedy, maybe, but it was the truth.
So she said, softly, “Good.”
There was the smile. But it was softer than she was used to.
“I suppose combat puts things in perspective,” he said. It took her a minute to realize that he was responding to what she’d said. His patient stare had almost made her forget what had come out of her mouth just a minute ago.
“It made me realize that I should be—should be appreciating all the joys in life,” he continued. “All the things that aren’t combat. Anytime I’m somewhere pleasant, anytime I’m not in danger, when I’m with people I like or looking at something beautiful or hearing a funny joke—I’m grateful for that. I’m happy to have that. Because there are so many people who don’t. There are so many places where that doesn’t exist. And having been there, it’s even sweeter to be here.”
Lynn felt caught up in his words; when he was done speaking, it was almost like she had to catch her breath.
“That’s very profound,” she said finally, feeling like it wasn’t enough, but not knowing what else to say.
She didn’t know how good she was at that sort of happiness. That continuous appreciation. Maybe when she was out alone in the forest, just her and Glacier. She definitely didn’t manage it much around other people, though, not like Ken seemed to.
Ken just smiled at her—that soft smile again, not the irreverent grin—and turned to start walking again. Lynn followed, then remembered she was supposed to be leading, and caught up. They were heading to his next research spot, she reminded herself, the place she’d marked on the map as having been logged just over a hundred years ago. So he could compare the data with the old-growth ecology. For his job. Which was why he was here.
It’s even sweeter to be here, he’d said. And she couldn’t help wonder if he’d meant here, like not in combat, somewhere other than combat, or here like—here. Right here, with her.
They walked in silence for a while, Lynn breathing the crisp morning air and focusing on the woods around her, rather than the man at her side.
It occurred to her that this would've gone more quickly if they'd shifted. Ken would've had to carry his things on his lion's back somehow, because objects didn't shift along with a person like clothing did, but they could surely have rigged something up without too much trouble.
There wouldn't be any risk of discovery, way out here. Almost no people came within miles of this stretch of forest, and they would scent or hear someone long before they came across them. Lynn wondered what it would be like, running through the woods with a lion.
She'd feel pretty small, that was for sure. Would that be a good thing or a bad thing?
On the whole, Lynn avoided the other big, predatory shifters. Nina was an exception, and Lynn was starting to learn that the snow leopards were overall a decent bunch, if a bit insular. But she'd occasionally run into the local mountain lions while out shifted, and once or twice a wolf, and although lynxes were fierce, they were smaller cats. And if it was one of her and two of them...
Anyway, she didn't have time for fights with other shifters, and so often they were for stupid reasons like territory—territory! When there was endless forest to roam in! Or just fighting for the sake of fighting. It had never occurred to her to try and make friends with any of them.
Making friends with a lion would be...something else.
And she wasn't worried about Ken. She knew already, even though they'd only known each other a couple of days, that he wasn't violent. He wouldn't try to intimidate or scare her because he was bigger.
Lynn's eyes caught on a familiar rocky outcropping, and she swung their path to the right. “Almost there,” she called over her shoulder.
Glancing at her watch, she realized that the hike had taken a bit longer than she'd anticipated—her fault, probably, for having a serious conversation in the middle of the wilderness. She was going to have to hurry to get back.
No sticking around to talk any more with Ken. She was surprised at the sudden surge of disappointment that brought.
They pushed through a last stand of trees, and Lynn came to a stop. “Here's where they started logging, back at the beginning of the twentieth century,” she told Ken. “Grandmother never told me a specific date, but she knew it was before World War I. Probably around 1910 or so.”
“It's amazing that you know all of this,” Ken said, letting his pack slip from his shoulders.
“Grandmother's the one who found most of it out,” she said with a shrug. “I have to get back, I have a client to meet at six.”
“Will you come tomorrow?” he asked.
She hesitated. “I wasn't sure you'd need me tomorrow.” But she didn’t have any early-morning clients tomorrow. She could stay longer. If she wanted.
“I could always use your input,” he said. Which wasn't a yes. And if he'd just been another client, taking up her time without any real need, she might even have been annoyed.
But, well...she wasn't.
“All right,” she said, aware that her voice sounded a little breathless, and annoyed about it. “Tomorrow morning. I'll see you here.”
“Looking forward to it.” His
eyes were smiling.
And then impulse took her. She needed to get back to her truck as soon as possible, so she wouldn't be late for her client meeting. And she'd just been thinking about how best to move more quickly, hadn't she?
It was like the quiet conversation they’d had, the way he’d freely talked about his history, his feelings, had broken down her own self-consciousness. His own openness was making her realize how closed-off she really was.
It made her realize that the intimacy she was afraid of...was already here. And it wasn’t bad. It was the opposite of bad.
Before she could hesitate any longer, she said, “Tomorrow, then,” and shifted.
She could feel her lynx rise up in her chest and take over, as her ears lengthened and her fur rippled into existence, her claws extending and her tail appearing. She fell to all fours, looking up at Ken with suddenly-sharpened vision.
She could scent him, now. He smelled like the forest, with a masculine tinge, and like a big predator. But there wasn't a wariness to her sense of him, like there usually was when she encountered predators in the wild. He felt...strangely safe.
As she shifted, he'd taken what looked like an involuntary step forward. His lips were parted, his eyes wide. She could see his chest heave with a quick inhale of breath.
“Look at you,” he said quietly. “A lynx. You're beautiful.”
Lynn didn't know what to make of that, had no idea how she might respond.
Fortunately, she didn't have to; she held his gaze for a long moment, then turned to dart off into the forest, running back to civilization, to her truck and her next client.
Even though her whole being yearned to stay back there in the woods with Ken.
***
The next morning, Ken woke up even earlier than he'd intended, while it was still dark. He'd slept restlessly, his eyes opening what seemed like every hour, because he'd dreamed that Lynn was there and he wanted to be awake to see her.
Finally, around four, he gave up sleep as a bad investment and decided to be up for the day. Only one more hour until she'd arrive.
A lynx. He'd been caught off-guard when she shifted, not expecting it at all. And then he'd been arrested by the beauty of her form. Those delicately tufted ears, that luxurious tail, the sleek spotted fur. She looked fierce, wild, and beautiful, like nothing could touch her.
Ken wanted to touch her.
He wanted to shift and run with her, to tussle on the forest floor. And then he wanted to shift back, and take her human form in his arms, run his hands over that soft skin, kiss those beautiful lips.
It was time to acknowledge the truth to himself. He'd fallen hard.
He hadn't expected anything like this to happen. He'd thought he was too old, too set in his ways. Too used to flirtations and flings.
But no. He wanted Lynn with a fierce passion that outweighed any casual attraction he'd ever felt. And underlying that passion, somehow, was the desire to commit. He wanted to stay here with her, to learn everything there was to know about her, to support her, join her life.
He was shaken by the power of those feelings. He barely knew what to do with any emotions that strong.
But he was pretty sure they weren't about to go away.
So he slept restlessly, and awoke with her name on his lips, and he waited as the dawn slowly crept into the sky.
He didn't need to see her today for work. He'd practically admitted as much yesterday, wondering if she'd respond, Well, if there's nothing I can help you with, why are you asking? Wondering if she'd rather stay away. He already knew that if she felt that way, she wouldn’t hesitate to tell him straight out.
But she hadn't. She'd met his eyes and agreed to come. Just to see him.
And then she'd shifted.
He'd never met a lynx shifter before. Didn't know much about them, either. Were they rare? Did they keep to themselves? Did they have packs? Lynn didn't seem to be part of a pack, or at least she'd never mentioned one.
You know hardly anything about her, he reminded himself. She'd mentioned her grandmother, and she'd talked about growing up in these forests and becoming a guide, but beyond that, he didn't know anything about her life. She could have a whole crowd of lynx shifters living in the same house with her, and he'd have no idea.
Well, if she did, he'd get to know all of them and do his best to ingratiate himself.
But somehow, he doubted it.
Ken kept himself busy until she arrived by finding a creek and giving himself a quick, bracing outdoor shower, shaving, and otherwise making himself presentable.
Date night, he thought wryly. Or date morning, at least.
He flipped through his map, the one she’d annotated. She’d done such a good job, even quickly, that he wouldn’t necessarily need her guidance through the forest to other logging locations. He could follow a map without any trouble, and all the areas were now clearly marked.
But even aside from the fact that he wanted her company, she so obviously knew these woods like the back of her hand. That sort of understanding was invaluable to an environmental scientist. She’d already come out with little facts, off-the-cuff pieces of information about the wildlife or the plant species, that it would’ve taken him months to collect on his own.
Usually, it was a bit of a pain to spend enough time with local guides to learn all of their—always valuable—information. Because they usually hated bigshot big-city scientists, and weren’t at all keen on being told what to do, told that their information was incomplete, or told that any local lore might be wrong.
But on the other hand, as had already been amply proven with his map, bigshot environmental scientists weren’t always right, either.
Eventually, he’d killed enough time that the dawn was well on its way, and...yes, there was Lynn, coming down the slope. She was in human form, walking purposefully, with that powerful stride he’d come to recognize over the last few days. Ken felt sure that if he saw her from far away, from behind, and only had her movement to go on, he’d recognize her in an instant.
She slowed as she approached his little—camp was almost too strong a word. Since he was sleeping in his lion form, he didn’t need a tent or a sleeping bag, so really he just had his pack and his tools set up, only taking up a few square feet of the forest floor. He wished, suddenly, that he had somewhere more substantial to welcome her to. A chair to offer her, a kitchen to cook her breakfast with.
Lynn, of course, looked perfectly comfortable just among the trees, so maybe it didn’t matter. She was like him, Ken could tell—happier outside than in.
“Good morning,” she said. Cautiously. Did she regret how personal they’d gotten yesterday?
Only one way to find out. “Good morning,” Ken said. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you for showing me your lynx yesterday. I know it’s a gesture of trust, and I appreciate it.”
She nodded gravely. Ken felt caught up in the gravity of the situation, and he wondered again at how Lynn was so easily able to draw him into serious moments, when most of the time he’d joke them away without any trouble.
“I wanted you to know,” she said. The words sent a thrill through him. “And I’d seen your lion, so it seemed...fair.”
“I’ve never met a lynx shifter before,” he said. “Are they rare?”
She frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I’m the only one around here anymore.”
“No family?”
She looked away. “No. My father was never around, and my mother passed away when I was a little kid.”
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
She shrugged. “I never knew them. My sister and I were raised by my grandmother. She was a lynx, and she taught me everything I know about being a shifter, and living in these woods. She lived to a good old age, but she’s been gone for years now.”
“And your sister?”
Lynn waved a hand. “She lives a few towns over. She was never as invested in these forests as I was.”
It soun
ded lonely. Especially now that her grandmother was gone.
“Is she not a shifter, then?” Ken asked. Shifter parents didn't always produce shifter children, even though it was usual.
“No, she is.” Lynn looked a bit uncomfortable, and Ken was about to tell her that she didn't have to talk about it if she didn't want to, when she continued, “She's always been a bit—wild.” Then she smiled ruefully. “A different kind of wild. She never wanted to run through the forests, she just wanted to go to parties. She's always had a ton of boyfriends. She got pregnant at a young age, and now she lives with the latest boyfriend and her daughter, my niece, who's seventeen.” Lynn was quiet for a long moment.
“I've never been able to approve,” she said finally. “I never like her boyfriends, and she always knows it. This latest one is a wolf shifter, and the crowd he runs with is kind of rough, and more than once I've had to hold myself back from threatening to kick his ass. She wouldn't appreciate it.”
But Lynn could do it, Ken had no doubt. The fierce expression she wore, not to mention her grace and power out on the trails—any shifter, even a wolf, would have to hesitate before coming head-to-head with her.
“Anyway.” Lynn looked a little embarrassed. “You don't care about my sister and her latest douchebag boyfriend.”
“I do,” he said immediately. “I want to know. I think you're interesting, and that goes for your history, your family, all of it.”
Lynn's embarrassment visibly increased. “Well, I probably shouldn't talk about her personal life to someone who doesn't know her,” she finally said. “Anyway, is there more of the forest that you wanted to see? Did you finish your measurements here already?”
“Not quite done here yet,” Ken admitted, “but I am interested to see more of this area. The way it's grown back from being logged, over a hundred years, is fascinating. Maybe a tour?”
Lynn nodded. “Of course.” She hesitated for a minute, and then said, “Would you prefer to go in human form, or shifted?”
