Chapter 6: Lottie

Sitting in the rocking chair on the small cabin porch is my new favorite place. All I hear is the faint twittering of birds in the trees, bugs in the shrubs, and the creek of the chair as I rock back and forth. I've pretty much been sitting here all day.

I slept in and got up when I felt like it, letting the sun shining through the large window act as my alarm clock. The weight of the quilted blanking desperately tried to lull me back to dreamland.

It took a while, but I taught myself how to brew coffee in the machine on the counter with the grounds I bought at the grocery store last night. It wasn't great, but it wasn't horrible; only a few loose grounds made it into my mug. Then I cooked breakfast. Okay, I burned breakfast and ended up eating cereal, but I tried. That's what counts.

For the rest of the day, I did nothing. I sat, I read, I listened to music, and watched the light shift through the trees. And now the light is perfect: the witching hour, the few hours right before sundown when the lighting is ideal for photos.

This would be the perfect time to take a walk through the forest and take a picture or two.

Since I'm the one in control of my decisions now, I decide I want to go, so I'm going.

I pull on my brand-new lace-up ankle boots and an oversized cardigan, grab my Polaroid, and walk into the woods. Normally, I would think walking alone into the woods would be a bad idea, but Ginger assured me these woods are safe, and there are clearly marked trails I can follow.

I pick a trail and start walking.

The trees are tall and sturdy, and a few are larger around than I can reach with my arms. I hug a few just to check. I've never hugged a tree, and these ones look like they deserved it. A few needles and leaves cling to my hair and clothes, and I don't care.

The forest's smell is so clean and crisp compared to the smog-filled ozone of Los Angeles. I don't think people know what clean air is supposed to smell like anymore.

As I pass, I pluck a few pink flowers from the full bushes lining my path, covered with snow-white berries. I stop when I see a small white rabbit sitting on a log in a shaft of sunlight. As quietly as possible, I lift my camera and snap the photo. As soon as it hears the click and whir of the film developing, it hops off the log and disappears into the bushes.

The photo goes in my cardigan pocket, and I keep walking. It isn't long before I stumble upon a small patch of grass in an opening in the trees. In the center of the tiny field is a circle of mushrooms, a fairy circle.

Stepping gently over to it, I crouch down and line it up in my viewfinder. I take the photo, and as I kneel there waiting for the picture to develop, I hear a rustling in the bushes.

Not five feet from me in the tree line, I spot two crystal blue eyes watching me, surrounded by black fur and a twitching nose.

The blood in my veins freezes along with every part of my body. You know how they say people either fight or flight when faced with conflict? Yeah, apparently, I'm the third option. Freeze in terror and mimic the most life-like statue ever.

The wolf doesn't move.

I don't move.

The forest doesn't move. Obviously, they're trees they can't move. But that's not the point. The point is everything remains still. One waiting for the other to make the first move. To breathe or flinch or piss themselves. I think I might be getting pretty close to the third option. Especially when the wolf takes a step out of the tree line. Bringing itself fully into view.

The beast is larger than any wolf I've ever seen, which is zero beyond the one I saw on Animal Planet. It has to be as tall as a Great Dane but wider and furrier.

It doesn't growl or lunge or bare its fangs at me. It just sits down at the edge of the clearing, watching me. I finally break free of my frozen state and jump back, standing braced to run.

Aren't you not supposed to run from wolves? Or is that only bears?

The wolf cocks its head at me, its ears remaining perked, listening. But its eyes look soft, curious. I take a closer look at them. They're so light blue that they're practically glowing against its black fur.

"Hey there, buddy," I coo, trying to somehow befriend a wild beast in the woods. "You're not going to eat me. Are ya."

I phrase it as a statement, more telling the wolf instead of asking. I'm sure I saw on some show that you're not supposed to show fear when dealing with a strange, unknown animal. So that's what I do. I put on a brave face that I hope the wolf believes because I don't know if I do or not.

"You just out for a stroll, too? I know I'm enjoying the weather and the quiet. How about you? Any friends nearby I should know about?"

The wolf's thick fur ruffles as it shakes its head.

Did it just answer me?

"Can you understand me?"

It doesn't make another move, just stares at me with those piercing blue eyes.

"Of course, you can't. You're a dog. Dogs don't understand English."

It huffs what sounds like an annoyed disagreement.

"Sorry, wolf. Wolf, not dog."

The wolf lifts its head, and its pink tongue lulls out of its mouth. It may be a wolf, but it looks like a big dog, even with the pointy fangs.

"Cool. You're awfully pretty. Are you a boy or a girl?"

I bend my head to the side, trying to get a look between the animal's legs, but I can't see anything but black fur. When I look back up, I swear the wolf is giving me a; did you really just try to get a look at my junk? face.

"Sorry. That was rude. I guess I wouldn't want a stranger trying to look down my pants on the first meeting, either. How about I ask instead?"

It doesn't say or do anything.

"I'll take that as an agreement. Okay. Are you a girl?"

Again nothing. It remains motionless, its mouth closed and eyes unblinking.

"Alright. Are you a boy?"

Its mouth opens, and I swear it is smiling.

"Male. Awesome. Alright then. May I take your picture, handsome fella?"

As slowly as physically possible, I lift the camera hanging at my side and watch the wolf, making sure he doesn't decide he's bored with me and has now decided to eat me. Thankfully, he doesn't.

I watch his intelligent eyes focus on my movements. When he doesn't do anything more than sit up taller and pose, I take that as a sign I can take his picture.

I snap the shot and watch as the photo develops. The light is perfect, and his blue eyes stand out among the darkening forest behind him.

"Wow, you're really photogenic."

The wolf stands, and before I can run, he's at my side, sniffing the photo and nudging my hand to show him. This wolf is not a normal animal. Lowering my hand, I show him the photo since that's apparently what he wants. He huffs at the image. Not sure what the hell that means. He likes it, maybe? Then, to my great horror, he rubs himself against my side. He reaches all the way to my ribs, and I lift my hands out of biting distance. Holding my arms over my head like I'm wading through water, trying to keep my cell phone dry.

He may be acting friendly, but I'm no fool. He's still a wild animal with meat-eating canines. Sooner than I expect, I find myself relaxing. His warm, soft fur feels nice against my side. The heat calms my racing heart, and I feel more and more at ease the longer he nuzzles into me.

I decide to take a risk and tentatively lower my hand to brush the fur at the back of his neck. It's lush and thick, and when I stroke gently, the wolf presses into my touch and makes a noise that sounds like a purr but isn't; it's more like a contented growl, low and quiet.

I guess he likes being pet, as most animals do. So, I do it some more. Reaching up to his head but still remaining a good distance away from his mouth, I pet the short fur between his ears and lightly scratch.

This time, he lets out a soft whine, and his eyes close.

"You're a good boy, aren't you? Not scary at all. You just wanted some lovin'."

He nudges at my hand again, this time stretching his coarse tongue out to give me a little lick. I laugh because what else can I do? I'm in the middle of a forest, making nice with a wild wolf who seems to like me.

"Are these your woods? I'm sorry if I intruded on your personal space. I didn't know this area belonged to anyone."

I ramble on, talking to the wolf as if he were a person who could understand me. He's a better listener than most humans I've known. He sits and allows me to pet him for a few more minutes. By the time I'm done, I feel completely at ease with the beast. A creature I should be afraid of, but now I wonder how I ever feared him. He's calm and gentle and appears intelligent and curious. If he were a dog, I would take him home with me. But I doubt taking a wild wolf home would be a smart idea. Plus, I don't know if I'm allowed to have animals in the cabin.

"Okay, well, I have to get going now. It's getting dark, and I don't want to get lost on my way back."

He doesn't move but sits, watching me walk backward the way I came.

"Maybe I'll come back and see you again. Take some more photos."

The wolf lays down in a gesture that appears to be him saying, I'll be right here when you return .

"Bye then. Until next time."

I wave at the wolf lying in the grassy field, and only when I'm on the trail in the trees do I turn around and continue walking. I look over my shoulder as I go, checking to make sure the wolf remains where he was. He doesn't move the entire time.

That was the weirdest and most amazing experience of my life.

~Hunter~

After the blonde-haired woman leaves, I sit in the darkening meadow for a few long minutes. When I discovered the source of the alluring scent, I didn't realize it would belong to a person. Let alone a beautiful woman with golden hair and a soft, captivating voice. She smelled like gardenias and cloves with a hint of mint. I've never smelled anything like it before.

I should have stayed hidden in the shadows and bushes, but when she caught me watching her, I couldn't help myself. I wanted to get closer; to show her I wouldn't harm her. To rub my scent on her. I've never wanted to scent-mark anyone before. The instinct blared in my mind until I couldn't ignore it any longer, and I gave in, nuzzling and rubbing my neck against as much of her as she would let me.

My chest puffs with pride, knowing if any other non-human were to smell her, they would know she was mine.

Wait, what? Mine? She's not mine. I don't even know who she is. She did say she would be back, though. Maybe she's visiting someone in town?

I can tell by her scent that she's a human. I can only hope she knows about the non-humans. If not, then she'll never be mine, no matter how much my inner beast wants to claim her as such. My inner beast isn't as much of a separate being as it is my deep natural instinct. A part of me that doesn't weigh the pros and cons or make the decision that's best for the community. It's what I truly want deep down without limits or restrictions.

Standing, I shake off thoughts of the woman and her intoxicating scent. I need to check on the cabin. That's what I came out here to do, not get distracted by beautiful women I can't have. Turning toward the cabin, I run straight through the foliage, ignoring the path.

I make it to the cabin, and Ryder was right. There's a silver Nissan parked in the drive and lights on inside the cabin. I sniff around the grounds without getting too close to the cabin. I don't want to alert anyone inside to my presence.

There's not much to scent on the property this far away from the structure, just remnants of me and my siblings, and the lingering sweet scent in my nostrils of the blonde woman.

Turning, I sprint back in the direction of my house. I need to shift back and put on some clothes before I confront whoever is inside. Scratching at the door in my wolf form won't be helpful.

Although I could play the rabid dog angle and literally run them out, that could also turn around and blow up in our faces if they leave and start talking about a wolf attack. Instead, I'll go for the stern and demanding landlord.

The return to the cabin takes longer in human form since I have to stick to the paths and can't run as fast on two human legs as I can on four paws.

When I approach the cabin, the sun is almost gone from the sky. I catch a hint of gardenia, but it dissolves in the wind, blowing away as quickly as it came. My head swivels, searching for the blonde-haired woman, but of course, she's not here.

On the porch, there's a throw blanket draped across the arm of one of the rocking chairs I made a few years ago, and an empty coffee mug is sitting on the ground at its side. Someone is definitely here.

My fist pounds on the door in a not-so-friendly manner, rattling it on its hinges. Whoever this person is, they're leaving tonight .

"Can I help you?" a timid female voice calls from inside.

"Yeah, you can tell me why you're in my cabin," I call out in a demanding voice.

"I don't know who you are, mister, but I rented this cabin fair and square."

The female voice grows a tad stronger but still cautious. As any female alone in a cabin in the woods should be when a man comes banging on her door at night.

"I highly doubt that."

My irritation is growing by the second. I don't care if it's a woman or a queen behind this door. I did not approve of her being here, so she needs to not be here.

Her voice grows a little louder and unyielding from behind the blue door when she replies.

"I don't care what you believe. It's true. So, would you kindly step off my porch before I call the cops?"

I have to smother a growl at her impertinence. "No, I will not step off my porch and the Sheriff is my brother. So why don't you get out here before I call the cops to have you forcibly removed for trespassing."

The door swings open and a woman I hadn't expected to see stands before me in a blur, engulfed in that scent I want to rub all over myself. The delicate floral aroma tinged with a tendril of my own unique scent marking.

"No, please don't do that. I rented the cabin from Ginger. I paid in full for three months, and she said everything was good. I'm sure if you call her, she'll tell you. I—"

I hold up my hand to stop her rambling and allow my mind a moment to process.

"Did you say Ginger?"

"Yes?" she says it like a question, like she's not sure she wants to confirm it was my sneaky sister who rented her my cabin.

I sigh, internally groaning. "Ginger is my sister. I'm Hunter. I own this cabin and the land surrounding it."

The tight pinch in her brow softens, and her shoulders sag, relieved. Apparently, my sister has been talking about me but not to me. I have a feeling this is the thing she was hiding from me. I knew she had a secret; I just wasn't expecting this.

"Oh, she told me about you."

"Did she now?" I ask, not at all surprised.

"Yes. She, however, did not mention you owned the property and had no idea I was here."

She gives me a sweet, innocent smile, and my heart does something funny in my chest. It pounds a little harder, a little faster. The ache grows and spreads like vines twinning around my insides.

Her teeth are pearly white and perfectly straight. Deep royal blue eyes stare up at me from beneath thick, fluttering lashes, and I'm thrown even more off-kilter seeing her now than when I first spotted her in the forest. Apparently, wolf me is more composed than human me.

"You say you've already paid?" I ask, breaking my silent gawking. My voice unexpectedly gravely.

She nods. I clear my throat and shift my weight from foot to foot, not sure what to do now. She's looking up at me with such hopeful anticipation. And for some reason, I don't want to crush her smile or make her leave. I want the opposite, actually. I want her to stay. I want to smell more of her intoxicating scent and feel her fingers run through my fur again.

"What's your name again?"

"Lottie. Lottie Pickle." She holds out her hand, relief lighting her face.

"Pickle?"

"Yeah, as in dill."

I laugh, and the sound surprises me, so I smother it. Taking her hand, I shake it. Her skin is soft and smooth under my fingers. I jolt at the sudden desire to touch more of her and the sharp static tingling that shoots through my body. Pulling my hand away quickly, I shove it in my pocket. Any woman who makes me feel that much with one touch is dangerous indeed. It's best if I don't touch her again.

"I suppose I don't have to call the Sheriff then. But I should call my sister."

That seems to comfort her, and she fidgets with the short ends of her hair before pushing a lock behind her ear. It falls loose instantly, and she pushes it back again. Obviously, the short length is unfamiliar to her. I like the blunt ends that look soft to the touch.

Damn it, Hunter, stop thinking about touching her.

"Okay, right. Well, sorry to interrupt your evening."

I shouldn't stay here any longer than necessary. Allowing myself such an indulgence will only make things more complicated. And I hate complicated.

"It's fine; it is your property. You're welcome to stop by any time."

Stepping off the porch, I back away, but Lottie follows me, stepping to the edge of the wooden planks and wrapping one arm around a column. I admit to myself—very quietly—that she looks rather good there.

"I shouldn't need to unless you run out of wood or something."

"Right, Volunteer fireman, good with an ax."

Lottie's scent catches on a breeze and washes over me. Causing unsolicited senses to perk up and pay attention. I rub the back of my neck, feeling a strange prickling, causing my hair to stand on end. Trying to smother the unwelcome sensation, I frown when it doesn't fully diminish.

"Right. I fear for what else my sister has told you."

"Don't worry, it's nothing embarrassing."

From the wicked grin on her face, I don't think she's telling the truth. But I don't ask. She can keep her secret if she knows something embarrassing about me but still smiles at me like that. I don't need to get to know her or start up a conversation. She's here. There's not much I can do about it at this point, but I should berate my little sister.

"Goodnight, Lottie," I say instead of the multitude of questions sitting on the tip of my tongue and cut the conversation short.

"Night, Hunter."

Lottie's smile wavers as she watches me walk away, then is replaced with a confused frown.

"Did you walk here?" she calls out to me, now a good twenty feet from the cabin.

"Yeah. My house is just about a mile that way." I point in the general direction of my house. "My brother and I live there. I own all the surrounding acres, nearly five hundred altogether."

"Wow. That's a lot of land."

"Yes, it is. Feel free to roam as you like. Most of the forest is safe, and if you need anything, well, I'm not far away. Or you could always call Ginger. I'm sure she'd be more than happy to help," I add, assuring her and myself that I don't have to be the one to help her.

"Thank you, Hunter."

"You're welcome, Lottie."

I like the way she says my name way too much. Which is why I'm going to be keeping my distance from Lottie Pickle. She's a human who obviously doesn't know anything about non-humans with sparkling ocean-blue eyes that want to suck me in and drown me.

There will be no sucking of any sort with Lottie. Sadly. But it's for the best. No matter how she smells or how my body reacts to her.