X. Capturing the Wolf

Cedar

T he night air cuts against my skin, finding its way through my thick coat. Our warm weather broke, leaving me wishing for a jacket. The cold discomfort suits my mood, though.

Aurora made it very clear she is going home to California and there’s nothing I can do about it. It wouldn’t be fair to beg her to stay. She barely knows me. She shouldn’t uproot her life on a whim after a few kisses and compliments.

I plunge into the creek, letting water soak into the soft fur at my belly. I could have found a shallow area to cross, but this is the most direct path. I’ll dry soon enough. Muscles burning, I charge up the hill into Granite Ridge territory.

If the patrols notice me, they don’t interfere. All of the wolves in Granite Creek know me. The Alpha’s twin brother.

The land flattens and I’m able to increase my speed, crossing the last mile easily. I start on the south end of the compound, heading for the recreation center Onyx and Ember created. Before entering, I stop and focus on the human part of my brain, allowing my body to shift back to two legs. A storage bench tucked beside the door offers a selection of clothing. I grab a pair of charcoal sweatpants and tug them on, followed by a maroon shirt.

Pack members play pool and foosball inside, and a few watch a movie in another room, but Onyx and Ember are absent. No one pays me any attention aside from a few nods of greeting.

Heading out of the recreation space, I jog north. The cafeteria is empty, as is the training facility. They must be home.

If it was our family home, I would just enter, but considering how Onyx and Ember can be, it’s safer to knock and wait. It’s only a moment until my brother pulls the door open.

“Hey!” he greets, throwing his arms around me. Since taking up residence in another pack, he’s been more demonstrative of affection, so I hug him back and follow him inside.

A video game fills the television screen, paused. Ember looks up from her seat on the sofa, a book draped across her lap. “Cedar, what’s up?”

“Felt like a good, long run and some time with family,” I say, my voice hoarse after breathing in the frigid night air.

“Sit down. Are you hungry?” Onyx asks. I wave him off.

“You seem serious,” Ember says, twisting in her seat until she’s sitting up properly and can look me over. “More than normal, I mean.”

Onyx barks a laugh and falls onto the cushion beside her, draping an arm around her middle until she leans into him.

Unsure of where to begin, or what to even share, I rest my forehead against my palm, elbow on my knee, and study the carpet. If I don’t explain everything, my brother won’t understand; he will probably mock me instead of helping. But he knows what it’s like to fall for someone who can’t stay. Except in his case, it worked out. I know I won’t be that lucky.

“How’s Aurora’s visit?” Ember asks, her tone hushed.

That’s as good a place as any. “She’s a green witch.”

Ember nods. “Hazel told me her concerns when we visited the baby.”

“She made the houseplants in Heath’s cabin go crazy and I had to cut her out with a chef’s knife,” I say, smiling at the memory. It was terrifying, but it ended with her in my arms, the truth laid out between us.

“That sounds nuts,” Onyx says. “So she knows, it’s for sure?”

“Yeah. She’s been practicing her magic in the garden. She did about four months’ worth of growth on the berry bushes in about five minutes.”

“Really?” Ember cocks her head. “How strange. I’ve never heard of this type of thing.”

“Sable and Heath said there was some witch magic in his family line. I’d never heard of it either.”

“And she’s doing well with it?” she asks.

I nod. “She figured out how to stop it when she wants, and how to trigger it. It’s not perfect yet, but it’s amazing progress.”

“So why do you look like she burned your garden down?” My brother furrows his eyebrows, giving me an inscrutable look that reminds me of our father.

This is hard to admit. I swallow, my jaw ticking.

“You like her, don’t you?” Ember asks softly.

Exhaling, I nod. My throat is thick and it’s hard to form any words. “We were hanging out and she kissed me.” I can feel my face flushing.

“Oh man, my baby brother got his first girlfriend!” Onyx teases, followed by a yelp of pain when Ember pinches him for being a jerk. “I don’t see the problem. You like her, she likes you, this is great.”

Ember glares at him. “She doesn’t live here, not to mention she’s not a shifter.”

“So convince her to stay. Make her fall in love with you, make her your mate, she’ll be happy, you’ll be happy.” Ember pinches him again. “Hey, don’t do that.”

“You deserve it. Stop being an idiot.”

“I’m going to make you regret that later,” he purrs, quiet enough I can pretend to not hear him. Ember rolls her eyes, but I don’t miss the way her hand caresses his ribs. Ugh. I’ve seen enough of these two touching each other to last a lifetime.

“Look, she has a whole life in L.A.: a job she likes, galleries that display her paintings, friends, roommates, an apartment. I can’t ask her to walk away from all of that when I can’t offer her anything except myself.”

“That’s worth more than a shitty job and tiny shared apartment,” Ember says. “But you’re right. She has a life there, and if she decides to move, it needs to be because she wants to, not solely because of you.”

A sense of defeat hits me, and I drop my head back onto my hand.

“All you can do is make your feelings clear, and make sure knows her options. If Hazel and Slate don’t want a human joining their pack, we can make room for you guys here.” Onyx presses a kiss to Ember’s temple while she speaks.

“I appreciate that.”

“I’m really sorry, man,” my brother says. “It hurts to be in love and have them leave.” His arms tighten around Ember, no doubt remembering their time apart.

“I’m in love with her,” I argue. “We just kissed a few times.”

“Sure.” Onyx says, allowing the conversation to move on. “So, a plant witch. That’s crazy. What sorts of stuff has she been able to do?”

The pressure falls away and I launch into stories of the house plants knocking off window sills, vines grabbing my ankles, honeysuckle shielding her. My brother and sister-in-law laugh, but in between, their expressions grow more concerned. It must be obvious how I feel about her now, and we all know she’s leaving. Maybe afterward, I’ll come stay here for a while until the memory of her fades and the worst of the heartbreak is over.

Sometime after midnight, Ember and Onyx say goodnight and go to their room. I stretch out on the sofa and doze. When morning light breaks through the windows, I leave the borrowed clothes on top of the clothes washer and shift into my wolf form.

The morning run is invigorating. After hours of ruminating on the subject, it’s clear that the pain is unavoidable, even if I avoid her from now on. I can’t do that. I’ll make the most of the time we have together and then deal with the consequences later.

Aurora

“Are you sure you’re okay doing this?” I ask for the tenth time. Standing in the garden, I clutch my paint bag and my collapsible easel, a canvas tucked under my arm.

Cedar laughs, running a hand through his gilded hair. The early morning light hits his sun kissed skin, lighting up the line of his jaw and cheekbones. This man is so handsome.

“I said yes. It’s fine.”

“But it feels kinda private,” I whisper, stepping closer. “I’ve only seen you as a wolf once, and that was accidental. It seems, I don’t know, intimate.”

He lowers his mouth to graze below my ear, catching my earlobe with his teeth for a second before he pulls back. “It’s not. The whole pack goes running together all the time. I promise, we have done much more intimate things already.”

The seduction in his voice makes me shiver. Forget painting, I want to jump him.

As if reading my mind, Cedar steps back and pulls his shirt over his head. My eyes widen and I glance around us to see if anyone else is around.

He laughs at my expression. “I can’t shift if I’m dressed.”

“Oh.”

Shirt tossed over the side of a garden bed, he takes a step forward and shifts right out of his pants. Apparently there are no boxers to worry about. I stow that information away.

A wolf I can only describe as reddish-gold stands before me. The tapered line of his muzzle is beautiful, as is the white fluff under his ears. He looks so soft.

I expected to feel fear, but it’s gone. My brain knows it’s Cedar and my heart feels so much for him, I know I’m safe. With a smile, I sink down to my knees and reach for him. He lets me thread my fingers into the silky fur around his neck.

On instinct, I dig my nails in and scratch like he’s a dog. His nose goes up in the air and he leans forward, a goofy pull to his lips. It’s almost like he’s smiling. I continue scratching, and then switch to petting down his scruff and over his shoulders. His fur gets rougher on his back.

“You are really beautiful,” I murmur. “Like a big golden retriever.”

He chuffs in response and stands. A white tail brushes against me as he turns and trots a few feet away. I can’t help but laugh.

“I’m just saying, I think you’d be a great snuggle buddy in this form. You’re very fluffy,” I say over my shoulder as I set up my easel.

My brain slides into painting mode, and I survey the scenery to map out the basic shapes, areas of light and dark, and any details in the foreground I can use for framing. Cedar’s tail lashes, and he lowers his head while watching me.

“What?”

His sleek body turns, pacing back and forth, before sitting, standing again, and then laying down. His head moves back and forth.

“Are you wondering how to pose for me?” I ask with a grin. He stops moving and watches me with eerily familiar blue eyes. “Can you just sit? Face this way a bit, so the light hits your profile.” He obeys my hand motions. “There, that’s perfect.”

Once in place, he goes still as marble. I grab my phone and snap a picture of the entire scene to reference later when the light changes. Then I select my favorite sketching pencil and get to work laying out the proportions.

My tongue sticks out against my top lip as I detail out Cedar’s form. It takes several attempts to capture him, but I’m happy with my work. Radiating out from him I begin adding the little flowers and stems that stand out from the garden beds. In slow layers, I add more and more detail while keeping the center focus on his canine shape.

Sketch finished, I step back and compare my work to real life. It’s almost perfect. With a soft eraser, I fix a few details down at the bottom edge and redraw them. Now it’s perfect.

Cedar hasn’t moved an inch, even though at least thirty or forty minutes have passed. Once I rough in the shadows, I won’t need him to stay there. With practiced movements, I lay out the warm browns I’ve selected for the underpainting and a selection of brushes for the work.

My gaze flickers between the garden and my canvas as I layer shadows, creating highlights by what I leave untouched. Time ceases to have meaning and I’m lost in my work. When the underpainting is finished, I set my brush down and step back. The vision for the painting to clear on the canvas and the reference is no longer necessary.

“Cedar, I’m done for now. Do you want to see?”

His coat shimmers in the brightening sunlight as he trots over to me. Between one step and the next, he transforms, until a very naked Cedar stands a few feet away from me.

I keep my eyes on my painting as he dresses.

“That’s incredible,” he says, his hands going to my waist as he steps up behind me.

“Thanks. I was feeling inspired.”

It’s so easy to reach behind me and cup my fingers at the back of his neck. As I turn my head and tip my face, he lowers to meet me and our mouths connect. His chest is heated by the sun and it scorches my bare arm.

He kisses my mouth and then my nose and forehead. A happy sigh escapes me, and I turn back to admire my work while leaning into his hold.

“It’ll take way longer to add all the color, but the bones are there.”

“Do you need me back out there?”

He’s so sweet, I squeeze his wrist affectionately. “No, I don’t need a reference anymore, and I have a picture as back-up. But I appreciate your willingness to strip down and get furry for me.”

I feel his laugh more than hear it. It vibrates through me, warming me from my chest to my toes.

“Can I do anything to help?”

“Just keep me company.”

Cedar proves an excellent assistant as I lay out all the colors. He fetches me water, washes my first set of brushes, and identifies the names of several flowers when I ask.

“You’re spoiling me,” I murmur.

His response is a kiss to the edge of my jaw. Ignoring him, I dip my favorite round brush into cadmium yellow and transfer it to an empty rectangle. Adding a scoop of phthalo green, I swirl and blend until I have the perfect leaf color. I build up the plants around Cedar’s wolf with short dabs of my brush.

“I could watch you paint all day,” Cedar whispers.

“You’re welcome to,” I quip back, smiling to myself as I dilute my olive green and wash it over the garden beds surrounding wolf Cedar’s golden shape.

“Why did you want to do this in the garden?” he asks over my shoulder.

My sigh is contented. “Seems like the place for you. Don’t you think?”

Another kiss on my neck elicits my own version of a growl. “I’m trying to paint here. You’re making it very difficult. Here, help me move into the shade. I’m going to get sunburned otherwise.”

Cedar chuckles at my scowl as we carry everything to the corner of the garden. I settle with my canvas across my thighs and leaning on my knees, my back against the trunk. Cedar’s arm slings over my shoulders as he watches me work.

He is endlessly patient as I work deeper desaturated shadows into the edges of the artwork. Finally it’s time for my favorite part and the most time consuming - details.

Mixing more green into my olive tone, I roll my thin brush into it and lazily drag it up from the garden beds to add natural looking stems. Feeling particularly pleased with myself, I sweep my hand over and nick Cedar, leaving a streak of green across the side of his hand. He rotates his wrist, looking at the color.

“I thought you wanted to work,” he purrs.

“Maybe I’m ready for a break.”

He’s careful as he grasps my painting by the back frame and sets it across the closest garden bed. I shove my palette aside with clumsy movements. A streak of gold wipes across my wrist. Before I can clean it off, calloused hands frame my face and seize my attention.

I’ll never grow tired of his intense expression when he looks like he wants to devour me. My heart picks up and my thighs squeeze together. Slowly, savoring the moment, he draws me toward him. I can feel green paint transfer from his hand to my jaw, but I don’t care.

As if his wolf is waiting under the surface, his eyes light from within until they flare with supernatural magic. His breathing is shallow as his fingers lace into my hair.

My legs uncurl as I move to my knees, hands braced on his thighs. I want to kiss him, but this suspended moment is delicious tension and desire. Reaching up, I touch the pad of my finger to his bottom lip. He nips me, and I gasp at the sharp edge to his teeth. It should be scary, but heat thrums through me. I’m vibrating, desperate to move.

Just before I combust, he closes the distance and kisses me. These aren't the languorous kisses from the day we worked on controlling my magic. It’s more than enjoying each other, more than his desire to please me.

There is something claiming to the way he dominates my mouth, kissing me deeply and controlling my movements with a light grip across my throat. I may be above him, but in this moment, he owns me.

My hips wiggle, seeking pressure and friction. One of his hands runs down my back and over the curve of my ass.

In one swift movement, he rolls me over and cradles my head as my back hits the grass. My breathing stutters, every piece of me quaking as he braces an arm over me and looks down. Messy golden hair frames his rapturous expression.

Trying to anchor myself, I hook my fingers over the back of his neck, scratching my nails against his scalp. His eyes close, and he turns his head to kiss my inner arm. With slow kisses and soft bites, he works lower. I shiver at the sensation, ending in a giggle as gold paint wipes across his cheek.

His devious grin sends sparks through me and my stomach clenches. He pauses, wiping at the paint and touching some to the tip of my nose. It’s silly, but somehow I’ve never felt so treasured.

The sweetness melts into heat as I pull his mouth to mine, unable to help myself. I need him. He lowers himself until our bodies press together. The weight of him is a wonderful torture. My knees part on either side of his hips, lining us up in a way that makes me crazy.

I’m burning up, and he is my only relief. His hand sweeps under my shirt, leaving gold fingerprints as he squeezes my waist and brushes over my ribs. Desperate for more, I mimic his movements, sliding my hand under his shirt. Fingers run over distinctly masculine abdomen muscles, finding the side of his ribs where I’ve spied botanical tattoos in those moments he is shirtless. I want to study them, learning every line, but not right now. Right now, I’ll die if we stop kissing.

“I want you, alone and with less clothes,” I murmur, turning my head until my lips brush over his jaw and then the side of his neck. He rocks into me and I gasp. As he repeats the movement, I close my teeth over his skin, biting down hard enough I know I’ll leave a mark. His fingers dig into my skin, the pain a beautiful contrast that sharpens to the pleasure of his sweatpants-clad body rubbing against the thin fabric of my loose pants.

“Seriously, we’re out where anyone could see us, and I want to do things to you that shouldn’t be done in public,” I growl, leaning my head back until I can see his glowing gaze.

This seems to pull him back to earth. He blinks, his eyes scanning my heaving chest, shirt pulled up to reveal the edge of my bra, and the way his hips are slotted between mine.

With a deep breath, he backs off me until he sits on my knees. Disappointment pierces me as I push myself up to sit facing him.

His fingers rake through his hair as his eyes drop to my knees.

“I didn’t want to stop,” I protest gently.

His eyes meet mine, and the blue light has faded until his typical stormy gaze stares back at me. “You’re right, we’re out where anyone could see.”

“So let’s go somewhere else.”

He sighs. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

The sting of rejection is sharp and my instinct is to hide the pain. Forcing a cheerful smile, I turn back to my painting supplies. “Alright.”

“Can I still watch you paint?” he asks, sounding remorseful. His hand runs up my arm like a tender apology.

Nodding, I gather up the items that were scattered as I flung them aside in my hurry to reach him. He places my canvas back in front of me. As my heart returns to normal, I add water to my palette and resume detailing my painting.

Cedar stays close, his hands on my body. Every so often, he presses a kiss to my shoulder or neck, as if he can’t help himself. It’s not what I want, but it’s still a lovely way to spend the day.

Hours slip by and the painting gains realism. Adding highlights always sparks excitement, and I squeeze Cedar’s hand. He only leaves my side to fetch us lunch. After eating, I go back to work. It will take several days of work to finish the painting, but I want to capture as much of the magic in this moment as I can before it fades.

As afternoon shadows crawl toward us, Cedar squeezes my thigh to get my attention. “It’s going to be dinner time soon. I think we were going to have a campfire tonight. Do you want to go?”

“Yes!” I set my brush down, grinning at him. “That sounds great.”

“Okay.” His returning smile makes my stomach flip. He could ask me to scrub toilets and I would gladly agree when he looks at me like this. Luckily, a campfire sounds fun. I picture cuddling up with him in front of a fire as everyone chats and laughs. Hazel mentioned campfires being her favorite, but with the baby’s arrival, they haven’t happened.

“I can’t wait.”

He kisses my cheek in response.