Chapter 8: Wolf Moon

"Not tonight," Matt said at dinner, before Chris could say a word.

He pushed his tray back and stood.

"It's your night, wolf. Don't make a face. I'm being a gentleman."

"You're being a fox," Chris said.

"I'm being both."

He winked at me and left.

That was the strangest thing about Matt.

He could hand away something he wanted and make it look like a gift.

After dark, Chris took my hand and walked me out of Lantern House without a word.

We crossed the lawn and went through the old gate in the back wall.

The woods began there, tall pines, black and silent, with the moon coming through the branches in silver coins.

He led me a long way in.

I knew the path of his shoulders better than I knew my own street.

By the time we reached the clearing my heart was pounding.

It was a small round place, soft with needles, with a flat rock in the middle.

Chris stopped and turned.

"I've never shown anyone this," he said.

"What?"

"What I am when I stop holding it in."

"Show me."

"It's not pretty."

"Chris." I stepped up to him.

"Show me."

He took a breath and let go.

His eyes went to molten silver.

The silver streak in his hair spread through it.

His claws slid out, long and black, and his canines lengthened until they showed over his lip.

Fur rose in a dark ruff along his forearms and the back of his neck.

He was still a man, still my Chris.

But he was wild too, and huge somehow, though he stood no taller than before.

I put my palm on his chest.

His heart was a drum, and the heat of him was a banked fire.

"Beautiful," I said.

He shut his eyes like I'd hit him.

"You're not afraid."

"I've never been afraid of you."

"You should be."

"Take off your shirt," I said.

He tore it over his head and threw it into the dark.

I undid my jeans and pushed them down.

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