“So I was right, wasn’t I? It’s still you, even in wolf form.”

He grunted.

“No sudden uncontrollable urges to go kill something?”

He rolled his eyes.

“Hey, you’re the one who was worried.” I paused. “And I don’t smell like dinner, right?”

I got a real look for that one.

“Just covering all the bases.”

He gave a rumbling growl, like a chuckle, and settled in, lowering his head to his front paws, gaze on me. I tried to get comfortable, but the ground was ice-cold through his sweatshirt, and I was wearing only my new pajamas, a light jacket, and sneakers.

Seeing me shivering, he stretched a front leg toward the sweatshirt, pawing the edge and snarling when he realized he couldn’t grab it.

“The lack of opposable thumbs is going to take some getting used to, huh?”

He motioned me closer with his muzzle. When I pretended not to understand, he twisted and gingerly took the hem of the sweatshirt between his teeth, lips curled in disgust as he tugged it.

“Okay, okay, I’m just trying not to crowd you.”

That wasn’t the only reason I was uncomfortable getting too cozy with him now, but he just grunted, again seeming to say it was fine. I moved over beside him. He shifted, his torso making a partial wind block, the body heat from the Change still blasting like a furnace.

He grunted.

“Yes, that’s better. Thanks. Now get some rest.”

I had no idea what would happen now. I doubted Derek did either. He’d been focused on getting through the Change. What I did know was that this was only half the process. He had to Change back, and he’d need time and rest for that.

And how would it happen? Did he have to wait until his body was ready, like he did with the Change to wolf? How long would that be? Hours? Days?

Feeling his gaze on me, I forced a smile and pushed back my worries. It would be okay. He could Change. That was the important thing.

When I relaxed, he shifted closer, fur brushing my hand. I tentatively touched it, feeling the coarse top layer and soft undercoat. He leaned against my hand, as if to say it was okay, and I buried my fingers in his fur, his skin so hot from the Change it was like putting my numb hands on a radiator. My cool fingers must have felt just as good, because he closed his eyes and shifted until I was leaning on him. Within minutes, he was asleep.

I closed my eyes, meaning to rest for just a moment, but the next thing I knew, I was waking up, curled on my side, using Derek as a pillow. I jumped. He looked over at me.

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean-”

He cut me short with a growl, telling me off for apologizing, then bumped my leg, knocking me back onto his side. I lay there a moment, enjoying the warmth. He snarled a yawn, flashing canines as long as my thumb.

Finally, I sat up. “So, I suppose you should do something wolfie. Hunt, maybe?”

A grunt, the tone saying no.

“Run? Get some exercise?”

Another grunt, less decisive, more like a maybe.

He pushed to his feet, wobbly, still adjusting to his new center of gravity. He gingerly moved one forepaw, then the next, one rear paw, then the other. He picked up the pace, but still slow as he circled the clearing. A snort, like he’d figured it out, and he broke into a lope, stumbled and plowed muzzle-first into the undergrowth.

I stifled a laugh, but not very well, and he glowered at me. “Forget running. A nice, leisurely stroll might be more your speed.”

He snorted and turned fast. When I fell back, he gave a growling chuckle.

“Still can’t resist throwing your weight around, can you?”

He lunged again. This time I stood my ground and he checked his leap at the last second…and toppled sideways. I didn’t hide my laugh that time. He twisted fast, grabbed my pajama leg and wrenched, and down I went.

“Bully.”

He growled a chuckle. I fingered an imaginary tear in my pant leg.

“Great. I finally get some pj’s and you rip them.”

He walked over for a better look. I tried to grab his foreleg, but he darted out of my reach and tore across the clearing. Then he stopped, looking over his shoulder as if to say how’d I do that? He turned and tried racing across it again, but his legs tangled and he fell in a heap beside me.

“You’re thinking too much, as usual,” I said.

A dismissive snort as he got to his feet. He tried running again, and didn’t fall, but did more lurching than loping, his legs threatening to tangle at every step.

“Apparently this could take a while, so how about you practice and I’ll head back to the house-”

He darted past me and veered to block my path.

I smiled. “I knew that’d work. So am I right? It’s better when you act, not think?”

A sigh whistled out of his nostrils, condensation hanging in the frigid air.

“You hate that, don’t you? We should keep a scorecard, see who’s right more often: me or you.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Not a chance, huh? You’d never live it down if I beat you. But I am right this time. Your body knows how to move as a wolf. You just need to shut your brain off and let your muscles do their thing.”

He dashed at me. When I didn’t move, he tore around me, circling wide, head lowered, picking up speed until he was a blur of black fur. And I laughed. I couldn’t help it. It looked so…amazing. To be in another form. To experience the world that way. I was happy for him. Finally, he threw on the brakes, skidding to a halt, each leg shooting out in a different direction.

“You’re going to need to work on that part,” I said.

He growled and gave a head shake that I couldn’t interpret until he got to his feet, muzzle lifting to catch the wind, ears swiveling forward.

“Someone’s coming?” I whispered.

He grunted. Shhh, I’m listening.

I listened with him, straining to hear what he did. Then came a sound I didn’t need werewolf hearing to pick up-a long, eerie howl. The fur on Derek’s back rose, adding inches to his already huge frame.

“Dog?” I whispered. But I’d heard enough dogs in my life to know that wasn’t what this was.

Derek dashed behind me and bumped the back of my legs. Run.

I raced to the path. Derek stayed behind, the thumping of his paws barely even betraying him, and I finally understood why he always moved so quietly. Predatory instinct. An instinct-and a skill-I lacked, and as we ran that became painfully obvious.

I might be half Derek’s size, but I was the one who sounded like a two-hundred-pound beast plowing through the woods. My breath chugged like a locomotive. My feet found every stick on the path, each snap as loud as gunfire. I tried to be quieter, but that meant slower. When my pace dropped, Derek bumped me from behind, telling me not to bother, to keep moving.

I could see the lights of the house ahead. Then, from somewhere between it and us came an earsplitting whistle. I stopped. Derek did, too, in a skid that knocked me to my knees.

He grunted an apology. As I rose, he’d already recovered and was in front of me now, muzzle raised to sample the wind. The breeze was coming from the side, though, and he paced, trying to catch a whiff of whoever had whistled. When he did, his body went rigid, ears back, growl bubbling up. Then he wheeled, almost slamming into me.

“Who-?”

He answered with a snap of his jaws, catching the hem of my jacket. Just run. I did.