V . Painters & Ass-Prints

Cedar

I t makes sense. Hazel wanted me to take Aurora hiking. I’m the one with the time. She already knows me. I’m the logical choice, and I almost have myself convinced that my reasons are completely selfless by the time I reach my garden.

Dew sparkles on shivering leaves, turning the garden into a glittering tapestry. I love early mornings like this. The rise of emotion leaves my muscles aching. Another day without shifting. I’ll have to handle this tonight or I’m risking slipping out of control. It’s never been something I’ve had to worry about. I’m the composed one, and while Onyx accidentally shifted more than a few times as a volatile teenager, I never did. Even Slate had a few outbursts over the years.

Yet I don’t feel composed when Aurora appears in the garden entrance. Tendrils of baby peas sway around her as they work to climb the arched trellis. They reach for her as she passes through. She’s in baggy jeans with her hair tied up in a ponytail, revealing the slope of her neck.

“Good morning!” She adjusts the messenger bag over her shoulder.

Moving without thought, I meet her in the middle. Her smile brightens and I take in the effect as my heart rate picks up. Even my stomach churns nervously. This isn’t like me. With a quick exhale to steady myself, I focus on speaking. “Ready to go already? It’s pretty early.”

“Sorry,” she says, those honey eyes turning regretful.

“Oh, no, that’s not what I meant.” I scramble to repair the situation. “I’m used to being the only morning person around here. You surprised me. A good surprise.”

The smile that warms her face also seizes up my lungs. She’s stunning, painfully beautiful with gold flecks in her irises and freckles dusting her tawny skin. “Well, not anymore! I’ve always loved mornings. I’m a wreck late at night, not sure if you noticed last night.” Her nose crinkles with her self-deprecating smile and her chin dips and she peers up at me through dark lashes.

“You didn’t seem like a wreck to me,” I murmur, drawing closer than I should. The air holds a chill and her sweater looks thin.

“Glad I hid it well,” she says with a laugh. Her hands rub together as she glances around. “How’s the garden?”

“Good.”

She wanders past me, close enough I can feel her body heat. I turn to follow her, unable to help myself. She pauses by the two garden beds of freshly planted seedlings - the ones I planted the day before she arrived. They’ve rooted nicely and a new set of leaves unfurls on many of their stems.

“What are these?”

“Broccoli.”

“It doesn’t look like broccoli,” she says sweetly, stooping to examine the plants.

“Seedlings often look the same. It’ll be obvious it’s broccoli as they get bigger,” I reassure her. My hand rests on her lower back. When did I put it there? “And these are cabbage, cauliflower, and that whole bed is kale.”

She twists to stare at me, her mouth playfully curved downward and one eyebrow raised. “Ew! Kale?”

“Not a fan of kale?”

“No! It’s gross.”

“Maybe Los Angeles kale is gross,” I say, unable to help the smirk forming on my face.

“It’s like the kale capital of the world,” she says, letting out a laugh. It’s husky and I feel it in my skin. The shake of her head flips her ponytail over her shoulders. “People drink it in green smoothies all the time.”

“Well, my kale is better. Not as a smoothie. That’s questionable. But cooked up with butter, it’s delicious.”

She straightens and I force my hand to drop away. As soon as the contact is lost, she sways closer. From the way her eyes look anywhere but at me, I conclude it’s for warmth.

“Are you cold?”

Aurora shakes her head but then reconsiders. “I guess so, but don’t worry, it’ll warm up soon. I don’t…”

Before she can finish her sentence, I tug my sweatshirt over my head and offer it to her. She scowls up at me. “I’m fine! Besides, I have a sweater already and now you’ll be cold.”

“Don’t worry about me. I grew up here. I don’t get cold until it’s snowing.” It’s a lie, but I can’t tolerate her discomfort. “Besides, I’m warm-blooded.”

“Warm-blooded,” she repeats, tentatively taking the sweatshirt and inspecting it. What possessed me to say that? Aurora doesn’t seem to mind, because she slips my sweatshirt over her head. It falls to her hips and flops past her hands.

“Here,” I say, taking one arm and rolling the sleeve up to reveal her delicate hand. Longer fingers end in a charmingly chipped manicure. They’re an artist’s hands. Repeating the move, I free her other hand, and when I look up, she’s smiling again. “Better?”

“Much. Thank you. But do you want to run home and get another jacket? I don’t mind waiting. ”

“I really am fine. So how far do you feel like hiking today? We have a few options.”

She cocks her head, her lips pursing. “I don’t mind something longer. I’ve got my good shoes on and we are getting a nice early start.”

“Okay, but we need to get water.” I look around as if it might appear from the air. This girl disorients me.

Aurora holds up her bag. “I’ve got us covered. I grabbed extra sandwiches yesterday and two bottles of water each. Will that be enough, do you think?”

“You’re amazing,” I say, speaking before thinking again. But from the rosy flush filling her cheeks, she likes it. Pink blooms over her cheekbones and jaw, and I’m tempted to reach out and touch it. Would it feel warmer than the rest of her skin? She shifts the strap on her shoulder as if it’s uncomfortable.

“You should let me carry the bag.” I frown down at the canvas bag as if it has injured and insulted me.

“But it’s mostly my art supplies,” she argues, clutching the strap.

Sighing, I step back to give her space. “Fine, we can take turns. Deal?”

“Deal,” she agrees immediately.

My eyes fall on the garden bed from yesterday. Neat rows of sprouts run the length of the planter. Carrot seeds take two weeks to sprout. Even the radishes take at least five days, usually longer. But there they are, little leaves reaching upward to worship the sun.

“Cedar?” Aurora asks, moving to my side.

“Is that the garden bed we planted yesterday?” I mumble, not taking my eyes off the sprouts.

“Maybe? I don’t know. It’s your garden.” Her nervous laugh wraps around me, begging my attention to refocus on her.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s the carrots and radishes we planted,” I confirm, even while I doubt myself. “But that doesn’t make sense.”

“I’ve always heard radishes sprout fast, but damn.”

Maybe I lost track of the days. I get lost in my own world, and with Aurora visiting, I’ve been distracted. It can’t have been yesterday.

“Ready to go?” Aurora asks, looking over her shoulder at me.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“You better lead the way!”

Nodding, I force my legs into motion until I’m passing the quiet chicken coop and exiting the north end of the garden. Aurora marches along a step behind me, flanking me just like she would if we were wolves running together. I steal glances at her when I can. Her ponytail sways as she walks. Leaves crunch under our feet cheerfully.

“Did you bring paints or just your sketchbook?” I ask, casting around for anything to discuss. Any safe topic.

“The whole shebang,” she replies, that smile back. I focus on the path.

Silence stretches between us. We pass Slate and Hazel’s cabin on the edge of the compound. If we went west, the ground would slope down until we hit the creek. But Bracken Creek slopes northward and carves out the landscape, leaving scenic overviews scattered along its length. As long as we don’t go too far east and run into that waterfall and pond that Slate has claimed. Even knowing the Alpha couple are back home and not using it, I still have no desire to go near their private spot.

My calves start to burn as the elevation increases. I’m used to running this on four paws. Not that I can tell Aurora that. Grinding my teeth, I forge ahead.

“Okay, I need a break,” she says, finding the closest rock to plop down on. “I’m not that out of shape, but I’m pretty sure there is less oxygen up here. That’s a thing, right?”

“Are you okay?” I crouch in front of her, evaluating the flush in her cheeks. When she raises her head, her pupils dilate.

“I’m fine.” It’s barely more than a whisper. “Just need to get some air back into me, and you being so close isn’t helping,” she says with a dry laugh.

I step back so quickly, my heel snags on a plant, and I can’t regain my balance. Windmilling my arms, I go down in slow motion. My ass hits the dirt with an embarrassing thud.

“Cedar!” Aurora launches herself at me, knees hitting the dirt beside me. “Are you okay?” Her hand cradles the back of my head, checking for injury.

It hurts to suck air back into my lungs. “I’m fine. Not hurt.” My voice rasps.

“Thank goodness. There’s no way I could haul you back to the cabin.” I can’t help but roll my eyes at her teasing.

With a grunt, I push myself up and stand. My tailbone and hip protest, but I ignore them. “Do you need more of a rest, or can we keep going?

“I’m good,” she says. “Are you?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Her gaze flicks down my body and back up, a small line between her brows. “If you’re sure.”

Feeling humbled, I trudge past her and resume our hike. Aurora follows, humming a soft tune I don’t recognize. The trees thin as we near our destination. It won't be long now.

Aurora lets out a snort of laughter. I twist to frown at her and her nose scrunches up. “Cedar, I hate to tell you this, but you have a dirt print on your ass. It’s impressive, really.”

“Well, don’t look,” I suggest dryly.

“I can’t help it! It’s very distracting.”

Swallowing thickly, I brush my hands over my rear, trying to rid myself of the dirt.

“Oh, it’s not going anywhere.” Her voice holds barely suppressed giggles.

A frustrated growl escapes me. For a second I freeze, reigning myself in. This is not the time to suddenly become emotional. Not here with her. Exhaling, I reach for her. Grabbing her shoulders, I pull her in front of me. “You can walk up here. Then you won’t be distracted.”

She twists at the waist, peering at me. “Your eyes look amazing in this light. Super blue.”

Jerking away, I try to calm myself. Were my eyes glowing? Surely that frustration wasn’t enough to trigger it.

“What? I just complimented your eyes. I didn’t mean to be weird,” she says, scuffing her heel through the dirt.

“I just got dust in my eyes,” I say, rubbing at my lashes.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m probably making it so much worse,” she says, folding her hands at her waist and slowing to walk beside me.

When my pulse settles, I risk a glance at her. She stares ahead, humming to herself. It’s almost noon and the harsh sunlight reflects off her hair, turning it bronze. As if sensing my attention, she looks over and smiles at me. Lungs catching on my inhale, I look ahead.

The ground hardens from pine needles to rocks as we crest the hill. Aurora reaches out and grabs my forearm. “Oh, wow!”

“Is this good for painting?” I ask tentatively.

She moves ahead, her eyes wide as she takes in the sweeping view of the forest below us. Looking directly down, we can see the twisting creek. It’s not a gaping distance down, but enough I wouldn’t want her to fall. Trees rise up from the other side of the creek, forming an evergreen blanket rippling northward.

“It’s beautiful. You know, I didn’t need something quite this grand, but I love it.” She stares at the view and I’m content to watch her appreciate the landscape that I call home.

“Are you hungry?” she asks, blinking back at me.

“I’m okay.”

“I should eat before I start painting, or I’ll forget to and I’m a monster when I’m hangry.” She produces the two sandwiches from her bag and hands me one.

“We wouldn’t want you to be hangry,” I mutter, peeling the plastic off my food.

Aurora tears into her sandwich, chewing a huge bite. It takes me a moment to remember to start eating too. She devours every crumb and wipes her mouth. “I should have brought more. I didn’t think hiking would make me so hungry.”

“Take mine,” I say, holding out the other half of my sandwich.

“No way,” she says, frowning at me. “You probably need more food than I do.” It’s true, but I can survive a missed lunch. It won’t help my control, however. Being in nature has soothed my wolfish instincts, but under no circumstances can I miss running tonight.

As I finish my sandwich, Aurora sets up her painting supplies. What looks like a handful of dowels turns into an easel, and she sets a thin canvas atop it. She clicks open a rectangular palette of glossy watercolors and pours some water into a cup. Wetting her largest brush, she swirls across an orange color and moves to the canvas.

I’m enthralled, watching her sweep thin washes of color over the surface. It looks like nothing at all, until suddenly I’m seeing the rough shape of the landscape - the deepest shadows and the brightest treetops. She switches from orange to blue with a smaller brush and begins to shape blurry trees along the horizon.

As she works, her tongue sticks out slightly, her brows furrowed in concentration. She’s adorable. Dark lashes flutter as her gaze flickers between the view and her artwork. Hours could have passed, and I would have no idea. The sway of her hips as she works along with the fluid movements of her paintbrush are mesmerizing.

“Cedar!” she yelps, and I jolt forward, already reaching for her. “Look down there!” She points at the creek, her words squeaking with excitement.

Three wolves trail along the creek, the largest a dark gray, followed by a solid white wolf, and finally a smaller silvery wolf with bulging sides. Their forms are as familiar as my own.

“Oh, are those wolves? That one looks pregnant! That’s amazing,” Aurora says, creeping closer to the edge to get a better look.

“Woah, be careful,” I say, grabbing her hand. Her fingers squeeze back, but she continues to lean forward to peer down at the creek.

The white wolf bounds across the water and disappears into the trees. The darkest one turns to the little silver wolf and licks her muzzle. Together, they turn south and pad out of view.

“That was incredible,” she breathes. “I didn’t know there were wolves around here.”

“Only a few,” I say. “They’re pretty elusive.”

“So we aren’t worried about coming across them while hiking?” she asks with an elated grin. I shake my head.

Still beaming, she returns to her painting. I watch, feeling unsettled. No one would get caught by us walking through the woods, but it had never occurred to me that she might spot someone if we were standing at an overlook. It was careless of me.

For over an hour, Aurora shapes the landscape on her canvas, and once she has the basics down, she washes her brushes and sets them down. “What do you think?”

“I’m not an art expert,” I say, “but it looks beautiful.”

“Thank you!” Aurora packs up her palette and wraps her brushes up. Her movements are slow and methodical. She’s gotten her energy and creativity down on paper, leaving her visibly drained but blissful.

Sighing, she lifts the strap of her back to sling it across her chest. I reach out and snag it from her. “My turn to carry it.”

“If you insist,” she says, watching me closely as I loop it over my shoulder and adjust the strap. Satisfied, she looks over the landscape one more time. “I wish we could stay until sunset.”

“I don’t think we want to navigate back in the dark. It would be really hard to do on foot.”

“On foot?” she asks, and I tense. “Do guys have ATVs or something?”

“Um, a couple, but we rarely use them.” I force my muscles to relax. No harm done, though I have to remember to be mindful with my words.

“Cool,” she says, breezing past me and down the trail.

I walk behind her until the trail fades and I have to take the lead. Hopefully she isn’t checking out the dirt print on my ass. In baggy sweatpants, it’s not my first choice of body parts for her to admire.

The ground levels, and I know we are nearing the compound. Aurora must sense it too. “Cedar, I really appreciate you taking me to paint.”

“Of course. Even if Hazel didn’t tell me to, I still would have. You’re nice to be around.”

Aurora stops. My words run back through my brain, and I realize how they must sound. The frown she gives me holds more hurt than anger.

“I didn’t mean it like that. She just suggested it.”

“My sister ordered you to hang out with me?” Her voice is way too calm.

“I was asking her what you might enjoy. You said you wanted to find pretty places to paint.”

Her lips press into a thin line. “Cedar, it feels like you’re lying to me.”

She can sense that? I’m screwed.

“Aurora, I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention.”

Her brown eyes have turned cold as she studies me. Creases form around her mouth as her frown deepens. “Why not be honest? Now I feel like you were just doing your job and I’m a burden.”

“No, I wanted to go with you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter to entertain me.” The way her brows furrows pierces me. I’ve ruined it. “Can we just go back?”

Hanging my head, I obey. As soon as the cabins are in view, she strides past me. Without looking back, she says, “Sorry to take up your whole day. I won’t do it again.”

I’m an idiot. At least it wasn’t pack information that slipped past me. I’d better stay away from her before I mess up even worse.

Feeling terrible, I shoot a text off to Slate and then let myself into my family’s cabin. My room feels empty without my brother, and both of my parents are at dinner already. Good, I’d like to wallow alone. It’s what I deserve after being so careless with my words to Aurora.