by Alisa Woods
Submission.
Her wolf recognized it right away, even though Mia had never seen another wolf in her life. But their actions flushed something through her—the shock of a cool shower on a hot day, both bracing and filled with relief. They had submitted. In their wolf form, the red wolves could no more attack the brown than they could fly—at least not now, not while their submission was still fresh, the authority of the alpha wolf still strong in their minds. Maybe later. Certainly once they were in human form again, and the alpha had less influence on their inner wolves. Mia knew what that felt like, an impulse that was stronger than her free human will, just from the few times she had let her wolf run free—mostly in the Olympic Mountains, where no one would see or wonder. But even in those few times, her thoughts, her actions, her very being seemed ruled by the instincts of her wolf.
The brown wolf released the man. Dark red smeared his throat, but he must not have been seriously injured, because there wasn’t blood spurting everywhere, and he managed to scramble away, still breathing. He ran past Mia, not even a glance back as he escaped down the moonlit alleyway, his imported shoes clacking on the pavement. The two red wolves still had their tails tucked, but now they were backing away, too. They snarled as they went, gaining volume as the distance between them and the brown wolf increased, until they yipped, tossed their heads, and turned to trot down the alley after their fellow thug.
The brown wolf stood straight, legs stiff, tail curled back… staring at her.
She stared back.
The only sounds were the thump of music from the club and the jerky breath heaving in and out of her, but the air was rich with the fight: the scent of blood, a tang of sweat, and the fading whiff of fear. There was a sweet under scent, familiar but something she couldn’t identify. The brown wolf was watching her with eyes deep as night and glittering with the moon. Then, as he held her gaze, he started to shift. Mia had never seen it in another person before. Only in herself, and when it happened, she wasn’t exactly looking in the mirror.
His gaze stayed fixed on her as the skin and bones of his body morphed, rearranging in some magic Mia didn’t understand even when it was her own body. He was a shadow lengthening, a form growing smoother and taller, trading fur for muscle, muzzle for square jaw, paws for long-fingered hands, until finally he stood tall and naked in all his… glory. There was really no other word for it. His shoulders were broad. Muscles rippled down his arms, catching the moonlight, kissing it, and sending it bouncing back to the night. The planes of his chest and stomach were silver-glazed marble, and farther down… Mia’s face ran hot as she realized the under scent was arousal. His arousal. And his erection was as glorious as the rest of him, tall and firm, the moonlight bathing it with a shimmering glow.
She jerked her gaze back up to meet his.
He slowly stepped toward her, each footfall measured and cautious, like she was a skittish deer he might be frightening off. A fluttery panic rose up in her chest as he approached, making her want to run just like one—not because she feared him, but because he radiated such raw power. Even in his human form, he was stealing her breath, holding her paralyzed against the wall in awe. She couldn’t imagine what he could compel her to do in his wolf form.
Anything.
Her inner wolf whimpered.
He bent to pick something off the pavement. Only after he stopped approaching her and fussed with the thing he picked up, did she realize it was his pants. She looked away while he dressed, although that seemed silly, so she looked back again. By then, he was almost upon her, and she startled, hugging the wall once more.
When he was far away and naked, he was something like a Greek god. Up close and shirtless, he was less divine and more humanly, heart-stoppingly gorgeous. His dark brown eyes peered at her, studying her again. He was maybe mid-twenties, with a chiseled face that had lost all boyishness. His chest was raked with four lines of red, where a claw must have found him in the fight, but his wounds were already starting to heal. As she watched, the lines slowly disappeared, just as she’d seen with her own skin many times. His chest was now bare of any marks except for his sprawling, black tattoo: a howling wolf in the middle with inky fur that bled into a thorny tribal design curling down his side. Her fingers ached to touch the silky black lines. He was close enough that his scent was nearly overpowering her—and not because it was strong. It reminded her of the fresh pines of the forest, mixed with a musky earth scent that was subtle and yet inescapable. It screamed I am male so loud that her knees went weak with it.
He lifted her chin with one finger. She held her breath while he inspected her. Then he released her from the finger touch, and her wolf wanted to nip after it.
“You’re not afraid,” he said softly.
“Should I be?” Her heart was pounding hard, and she was drenched in dampness, from the slick sweat of residual panic to the heat between her legs. He was wolf. He had to smell that. It made more heat rush to her face.
A smile lifted one side of his pinched-serious lips. “Most humans are after a wolf fight.”
She let out a breath. He thought she was human. It almost bubbled up a laugh, but she held it in.
His smile drifted away, replaced by seriousness.
“I’ve seen wolves before,” she said. Which, actually, was a lie. At least, she hadn’t seen any other wolves before tonight.
He nodded, slowly. She couldn’t decide if he believed her or not.
Then she realized… “But I won’t tell. Anyone. I promise.”
One eyebrow lifted. “Really? And why not?”
In that moment, she recognized him: he was her customer at the bar. One of the last ones before she shuffled out, ready to gag on the cocktail of pheromones in the club.
She gave him a tiny smile. “Because you tip well.”
He smiled, and it was like the moon had brightened.
She stood in awe of it for a moment. Then she added, “And, you know, for saving my life.”
He put a hand on the wall behind her and leaned in close. He drew in a breath, and his eyes half-lidded, then closed. Her pulse kicked up to approaching heart attack speed. Was he going to kiss her? Should she let him? Was there any possibility of her not?
Then she realized he was just… breathing her in. His eyes opened and peered into hers. He was close enough now that she could easily reach out and touch him. Kiss him. Her wolf whined a complaint, but she couldn’t do either of those things. She was paralyzed by his nearness.
“Did they hurt you in any way?” he asked, his voice a whisper. “Tell me the truth.”
She shook her head in tiny movements.
“You’re sure you’re all right?” His voice sounded strained.
She nodded with equally frantic small movements. Then, feeling like an idiot for not being able to form words, she forced out, “I’m okay. Really.”
He drew in another breath—more of her scent, she was sure of it—and bit his lip. It ran a quiver through her. Then just when she thought she might not be able to stand it anymore, that she might have to bridge the gap between them and just touch him… he eased back from the wall and dropped his hand. Then he simply turned away, leaving her hunched up against the bricks. She relaxed and tried to regain some composure, but her wolf spun rings of frustration inside her. She watched as he picked through the discarded shirts, shoes, and pants littering the now-empty alley. He found his shirt, slipped it on, swiped up two shoes and socks, then returned to her.
“Tell me where you live.” It was a command.
“McMahon Hall. At the University.” It didn’t occur to her until after the words were out of her mouth that telling a complete stranger in a moonlit alley where she lived probably wasn’t the best choice. But she wasn’t afraid of him in any way. He wasn’t capable of hurting her, not intentionally, she was sure of it.
He nodded like he had expected her compliance without question, then glanced at the door to The Deviation. “It’s not safe for you to come back her
e.” He swung back to look at her with those intense, dark eyes. “They’ll return. And they’ll be looking for you.”
That ran a shiver through her. What would she do now? She needed this job. But she didn’t want to say anything. He’d just saved her life: she didn’t want to argue. And he was right. Next time he wouldn’t be there to save her. The pit of her stomach hollowed out.
Instead of saying any of that, she asked, “Do you have a name?”
“Yes.” The corner of his mouth quirked.
That tiny not-smile did a thing to her insides. “I see. A funny guy as well as an action hero. You know, if you don’t tell me, I’ll just make something up.”
His face lost its humor. “My name is Lucas.” He gestured down the alley away from the club. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”
She looked back to the door. “I should tell them I’m leaving.” At Lucas’s dark look, she hastily added, “I’ll say I’m sick. Not telling anyone anything, remember?”
He hesitated, stared hard at the door, then nodded his permission. She shuffled toward the club. A glance back showed Lucas waiting for her, still barefoot and shirtless in the moonlight-drenched alleyway. Holy hell, he was hot. Or maybe his hotness came from the fact that he just possibly saved her life. Definitely saved her secret. Either way, she would make quick work of telling her boss she was done for the day and get back to the alley.
She was afraid he might disappear into the night if she didn’t.
Lucas dropped Mia off at her residence hall with hardly a word. He had hailed a cab, so she didn’t even get a chance to peek in his car. Her attempts at small talk on the way back were met with stony silence. It was as if he wanted to forget the night had happened as quickly as possible. She wasn’t sure why he even bothered taking her back to her dorm. She could have taken the bus, just like she did to get to The Deviation in the first place. But there she stood, outside the door of her hall at one o'clock in the morning, still wearing her work clothes and watching Lucas slip away into the night via an anonymous yellow cab.
Her wolf clawed at Mia’s stomach. “Well, what was I supposed to do?” Mia grumbled to her inner beast. “Hit on him after he saved me?” Wow, thanks for saving me from the big nasty wolves, hot shifter guy. Wanna get some coffee?
Mia shook her head. Seriously pathetic.
A thumping sound that was more reverberation than music came from the upper floors of McMahon Hall. Someone was up late, throwing a party, and suddenly her room on the 11th floor was the last place she wanted to be. The tree lined street outside the dorm obscured her view of the Olympic National Park in the far distance, but the leafy arms of the branches overhead still gave her a sense of park’s darkened forest. It was the only place she could run free, shifting at will under the cover of the wild. Only she never did that… or at least very rarely.
The events in the alley—the danger, the fight, Lucas’s breathing her in—all of it had awoken her inner wolf in a way it never had been before. Every nerve ending seemed on fire, and yet there was some ill-defined hollowness inside her. It was an unfamiliar longing: to shift, to let her wolf free, to follow some instinct that was driving her. A long, low howl echoed around inside her head, making the hollowness ring even more empty. Like a whispered promise that could never be fulfilled. Only she didn’t know what the promise was or what she wanted to fill the emptiness with.
Mia gritted her teeth and kept the howl locked inside. Letting it out in front of her University of Washington dorm wouldn’t exactly be smart. And Mia had to be smart. She had to work hard, finish out her business degree at UDub, and land a job so she could take care of her mom. Her dad had never been in the picture, and Mia was an only child, so her mom was the sum total of her family. And if there was one thing her mom had taught her, it was that there wasn’t anyone or anything more important than family.
If Mia couldn’t go back to The Deviation, she would have to find another job to get her through school. She whirled away from the faux forest in front of her and marched into McMahon Hall, taking the elevator to the 11th floor and trying to ignore the stale dorm odors along the way. When the elevator doors opened, it was clear that her floor was once again party central for the building. Who knew the Business and Arts dorm would be rocking it so hard so often. Didn’t these people ever study?
Unfortunately, her room was in the wing where the party action usually happened. Given the slightly bigger rooms, the open floor plan, the balcony, and not least the stairwell for students pairing off or sneaking down to lower floors, it made sense. It was just highly inconvenient. And periodically turned her home into an over-crowded, over-smelly nightmare.
People jammed the hall as she worked her way in. On a good day, the dorms were a hotbed of nasty—a decade of moldy feet, the residual crumbs of a thousand midnight snacks—but tonight, there was the added sickly stench of bootlegged party drinks. In the corner of the living room, between the silk plant and a five-century-old orange floral couch, sat a metal tub. Students crowded around it with their red plastic cups, waiting for their dip of whatever toxic brew they’d managed to cobble together. She was guessing Tom Collins was somewhere in the mix by the overly-sweet lemon scent perfuming the room. How they got away with throwing these parties, she could never figure. They must be paying off the Resident Assistants in sexual favors.
Mia sighed when she found the door to her room was flung wide open with a dozen people she didn’t know inside. She wasn’t worried—she didn’t have anything worth stealing—but she was hoping to get some kind of sleep tonight. Maybe forget about the harrowing events of the alley, and the fact that she was newly out of a job.
Her roommate, Jupiter, was flirting in the doorway to their room with some guy—probably her crush-of-the-week, a Southern guy named Jackson from her drama club. Jupiter was from Kansas with all that country-girl wide-eyed innocence on tap plus a heavy helping of roll-in-the-hay eagerness when it came to boys. When she saw Mia, she grinned and waved with far too much exuberance. Mia trudged over, debating whether she could throw everyone out without explanation. It was past one in the morning after all.
Her roommate had the world’s coolest name and the world’s most ridiculous wardrobe. Jupiter’s outfit tonight was par for the course: purple leggings, an orange tulle skirt, and a bunched up UDub sweatshirt that was far too big. Probably belonged to Jackson.
“You know,” Mia shouted to be heard over the low-thumping music, “being a drama major is really no excuse for that outfit.”
“You’re just jealous.” Jupiter’s smile was too wide, the kind Mia was used to seeing on her customers at The Deviation.
“Yeah.” Mia smirked. “Jealous of the color blind.”
Jupiter made a snort of disgust then frowned. “You’ve missed half the party!”
“Only half?” Mia threw a questioning look to Jackson, who was watching them with high amusement.
He just shrugged.
“Where have you been?” Jupiter asked with the outrage of the half-drunk for slights real and imagined.
“I had to work tonight, remember?”
“Oh yeah.” Jupiter’s freckled face scrunched up. “Wait, weren’t you supposed to be at The Deviation until two?”
“Yeah, I, um… got off early.”
Mia was saved from explaining by a guy barreling out of her room. All three of them made way for him as he headed for the bathroom and took a quick turn into the girls’. Their floor was coed—either he was confused or he didn’t think he would make it to the boys’ bathroom.
Jupiter threw an unmistakable ew look after the bathroom perpetrator, then propped one hand on her hip. The other held a small blue-feathered purse that looked like a boa constrictor had thrown up a peacock. She took that thing everywhere, like a pet.
Then she focused on Mia again. “I thought you had gotten that awesome internship at… at…” She snapped her fingers, fast.
“SparkTech Partners,” Mia supplied. “I’m starting on Monday.�
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Jupiter flailed her hand without the blue-feathered thing. “Which is why you need to celebrate!”
“It’s been a long night.” Mia gave a sad look to her bed inside their room. It currently held three senior boys each with a red cup balanced precariously on their knee. “What I really need is some sleep.”
“But you just got here!” Jupiter exclaimed. Then something over Mia’s shoulder caught her eye, and her roommate bit her lip, looking guilty. “I might have told a certain hot senior from drama club that you would be here by the end of the party.”
“Jeeter.” Neither Mia’s warning tone, nor the nickname Jupiter hated, slowed her down one bit.
“Oh, come on!” Her roommate gave her a disgusted look, but dropped her voice. “Cade is perfect for you. Tall, dark, and overly serious. He’s just your type.”
“I don’t have a type.” Which was a lie. She very much had a type. It was tall, muscular, and naked in the moonlight. My name is Lucas. Even the memory of him leaning close to her made the room feel warm. Mia closed her eyes and shook that thought from her head. There were so many ways that wasn’t even close to happening again.
Jupiter bunched up the feathered purse and made begging hands and eyes. She mouthed, Forgive me. Then her roommate dropped the drama like a change in costume and beamed over Mia’s shoulder. “Hi, Cade!”
Mia rolled her eyes before putting on a tight smile and turning to greet Jupiter’s drama club friend. Cade arrived just as she turned, a red plastic cup in each hand. His white t-shirt hung on his broad shoulders like it enjoyed the ride, and his smooth, muscular grace made her think of a tiger: all restrained power and limber movement. Mia was tall, but she still had to look up into those crystalline blue eyes.
