Mal saw the smile on Finn’s face and groaned.
“I wanted her, she wanted me. My wolf would not let her go.” Finn shrugged. “A life bond. A wolf mates once.”
Olivia stopped, staring at Finn. “Oh.”
“She is mine forever. I am hers. By choice.” He shrugged.
Mal wasn’t prepared for the anguish on Olivia’s face. Anguish, sadness, loss. What was she thinking? What was tearing her insides apart? And how the hell could he make it better?
The distant howl of a wolf made Olivia jump.
“It’s the refuge wolves,” Finn explained. “Saying hello.”
“Wait—we can talk to them?” she asked. “Can our wolves talk to each other?”
“Sort of,” Mal offered. “Not with words.” His skin tugged, tightening, preparing. He waited, watching Olivia.
Her eyes were pressed shut, her face tightening.
“Don’t fight it,” he whispered, stroking her back. “Let it happen.”
She groaned, falling to the gro
und at his feet. He crouched, unable to leave her side.
“You’re playing with fire, Mal.” Finn’s voice was hard. “Give her some space.”
Mal glared at him. “I can handle a few bites.”
Olivia curled into herself, her muscles rolling under the surface of her soft skin. He winced through the pop of each vertebra, the pop of tendon and bone as her shoulder blades moved forward and her rib cage expanded. Her hands contorted, her feet elongated, and her ears split. She cried out when her flesh gave way, the momentary separation of skin the final stage. Cinnamon-colored fur covered her from tail to paw to the tip of her nose. She sat up, panting, shaking her head—dazed. Her coat was lighter underneath, with brown and red tips. Her build was daintier than the rest of them, but she was still larger than the average timber wolf.
Finn smiled. “Well done, Olivia.”
Mal sat there, staring at her. Hazel eyes met his. She was gorgeous, even as a wolf. “You look good, Olivia.” The urge to touch her was overwhelming. But when he reached out his hand, she growled at him.
He nodded, smiling at her. “You’re a wolf. And you know it.” He stood, his wolf eager for the shift. It rolled over him, the discomfort lessened by years of shifting. With each snap and tug, his wolf took more control. When the wolf was in his place, he jumped up—unsteady on his legs. Until he was nose to nose with Olivia, his wolf was anxious and excited. For the first time since he’d been turned, his exhilaration had nothing to do with the hunt or a fight—and everything to do with being with her.
She sniffed him, letting him circle her once, watching his every move. When he stood before her, her eyes locked with his. He was in serious trouble. His wolf didn’t give a shit about anything but her. She whimpered once, and he was there, letting her run her nose down his neck, rubbing his head against hers. He groaned, relishing in the feel of her soft fur rubbing along his side. Her nose nuzzled his ear, and Mal’s wolf reciprocated.
Finn barked, pulling them apart.
Olivia froze, her ears oscillating wildly while she nervously assessed her surroundings. Processing the thousand tiny sounds that were impossible to pick out in human form could be overwhelming. Little things like the distant snap of a twig, the flap of an owl high overhead, or the snort of a distant elk would be deafening to her.
But Mal’s wolf was blind to everything but her wolf. The sound of her thundering heart, the uncertain shifting from paw to paw, and her sweet scent flooded him. His wolf groaned in the back of his throat, drawing Olivia’s attention. She moved close, tucking her head under his and huddling close.
Finn, a massive brown wolf, approached, nudging her shoulder with his nose. He barked, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth, and then he pawed the ground and took off at a run.
Olivia looked at him, then after Finn, swishing her tail before she ran after their Alpha.
Mal stared after them, trying not to let his misplaced jealousy of Finn tarnish his relief. He’d known Olivia would make the shift well. Now his only worry was preventing her wolf and his from sealing the bond between them.
...
Being a wolf was amazing. Things she didn’t know before made sense. Her wolf was all energy and enthusiasm, scenting out rabbits and a woodpecker. When Finn or Mal ran, she was faster than them, loving the wind in her fur and the boundless joy that a full-out sprint gave her.
New sounds crowded in on her, but Finn and Mal were there—showing her there was nothing to fear. Her wolf was free. She was free—and protected.
And every time Mal brushed up against her, her wolf responded. She nipped his ear, nuzzled his throat, rolled on her back in submission. Olivia was fully aware that this was wanton behavior, even for a wolf. But she couldn’t seem to rein her wolf in. And, honestly, she was having too much fun to really try.