Filthy rich werewolves by Taylor Caine

Chapter 41

GRACE

Jay stands before me and even though I know it’s all sorts of wrong, I look my fill.

He’s tall and strong.

Muscles ripple across his chest and arms. I’ve seen him take on men without any fear or hesitation, but

to see him now his body is honed to a weapon. And I wonder at that, because wolf or not, such

strength comes from training and repetition.

I wonder if that’s why he’s homeless.

Perhaps he is military and is dealing with trauma or PTSD.

His hair is longer and it covers his eyes with how he’s standing and I think that’s intentional so I can’t

get a read on him.

I let my gaze drop lower, and when I focus on that prominent part of him. It’s thick and long and

growing before my eyes. My gaze shoots to his, but I can’t tell what he’s thinking.

In the next instant, the air in front of me shimmers. My own vision distorts as I try to track the shift, but

the energy makes me blink without seeing.

Then his wolf is rubbing against my side, forcing my hand along the top of his body, as if I need any

encouragement to touch him.

I rub my hands along his fur and sink to my knees to stroke him.

He nuzzles my face and neck. Not licking, but more marking me with his scent.

In pack, when we’d all shift it’s how wolves acclimate ourselves and connect. I try not to let myself read

more into it.

I hate that my wolf will never get the chance to meet his. That I won’t be able to run through woods like

these or scent this wolf or see him with my wolf’s eyes.

Everything is richer, brighter, stronger in my true form.

Ava, I call in my mind. But it’s like hollering into an abyss.

Jay lopes off at a jog and I run to keep up with him. He only dashes ahead maybe twenty feet or so

before pausing and walking and I realize he’s doing that for me.

“No, do’t wait.” I grin. “I wouldn’t wait for you.”

He barks.

“It’s true. I’m not big. But I was fast. Let’s see what you’ve got, brother.”

His next bark is reprimanding. I laugh. “Go on.”

He hesitates for a moment then takes off running.

I follow after him.

For the first time in over three years, I finally feel free.

Jay runs ahead, leaping and racing. He’s strong and agile and twice the size of most wolves. I’ve seen

him in his true form once before, but somehow, this is different. He runs ahead then circles back to me.

Or he’ll pause along the trail and howl to let me know where he is.

After about twenty minutes, he slows to a walk and stays beside me. My eyes have adapted to lack of

light and the game trail is actually pretty easy to follow. I expect hikers use it too given the occasional

empty can or abandoned doggie bag I see along the trail.

Humans…make a mess of everything.

As the thought surfaces I grimace. I’m human now.

I frown and feel a strong urge to cry. Jay swings his head at me, his wolf senses picking up the change

in my mood. “I”m good,” I tell him. “Let’s keep going.”

He sniffs the air around me as if reassuring himself I’m all right.

About another fifteen minutes later, I see a break ahead in the trees.

The pines open to a series of open fields and rolling hills. There’s a pasture and paddock in the far

distance. And one monster of a mansion.

“Uh, are we trespassing?”

He jerks his head to the left and I follow him toward a small cabin tucked away at the edge of the

woods. He trots along to the small A-frame building. It’s a combination of stone and logs and looks like

it may have been built at the start of the last century.

I step up onto the porch.

There are two rocking chairs. A small table.

A pretty wreath with tinsel and bows on the door.

He nudges the door open with his nose.

Not locked. Okay.

At least we’re not breaking-and-entering.

I follow him inside and pause.

I can’t believe what I’m seeing…