Claiming the Spare Twin novel · Chapter 9 of 24

Chapter 9: The White Wolf

Dorran's POV

I woke to a cold bed and the smell of her going.

It was still dark, and her side of the sheets had not yet cooled.

My wolf was on his feet before I was.

I took the stairs in my boxers and found the lodge door standing open, with frost blowing across the porch and her bare footprints leading off into the trees.

She had taken my coat, and nothing else.

I ran.

I did not think about what I was doing. I followed her scent up the ridge, past the rock shelf, and into the dark pines.

She smelled of sleep, and sweat, and me.

Under that, new and strong, she smelled of wolf.

I came out into the old clearing above the creek a minute after she did.

The moon was nearly full, and it hung over the trees and lit the frozen grass.

Tilda stood in the middle of the clearing with her head thrown back and my coat sliding off her shoulders.

She was shaking from head to foot.

"Tilda," I said.

She didn't hear me.

Her back bowed. A sound came out of her, low and cracked, and the coat hit the ground.

I had watched four hundred wolves shift in my life.

I had never watched one do it like this.

It was not quick. It was not the usual snap of bone and fur that a trained wolf does in a breath.

It rolled through her slowly, in one long wave, fourteen years of it at once.

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