The wolf growled, a low baritone over Oscar’s panicked staccato barks. I shook my head, rattling brain cells back into their proper orbit. Wolf-Cooper was real.

Oscar, who apparently didn’t want to be outdone in the canine bravado department, lunged at the bear’s front leg, sinking his little teeth in. The bear roared and flicked Oscar away with a shake of his paw. Oscar yelped, and his small body landed inches from me. I scooped him up and kept him in my lap as he strained to get back into the fray.

The bear advanced, eliciting a snarl from the wolf. The bear attempted to circle right, pushing the wolf counterclockwise, away from me. But the wolf stood his ground, advancing against the bear’s charge. The bear attempted a left-hand strike, which earned it a nip on the nose from the wolf. The wolf backed up, his long tail swishing against my feet as he moved into a defensive crouch and let out a vicious snarl.

The bear reared up again and gave a roar that had my ears ringing. When this display of ursine testosterone failed to chase Cooper away, the bear dropped to all fours and huffed at me, a sort of ‘you can eat her, she’s not worth it’ gesture. Sure that it had made its point as the loudest, meanest, biggest animal in the clearing, the bear sauntered off.

I let out a long, trembling breath, burying my face in Oscar’s sweater.

Cooper phased back to human. He was naked, sweaty, and quite angry. Hmm.

When I was no longer paralyzed by fear and the blood was circulating properly in my brain again, I was going to evaluate what it said about me as a person that I had some strange kind of relationship with a man I didn’t particularly like, in which he was naked at least half of the time we spent together. And I didn’t seem to be bothered by it. I really had to have sex sometime soon.

“Are you out of your mind?” he shouted as I hesitantly pushed myself to my feet. The relief I felt finally allowed my brain to process what had just happened. A cold chill swept through my body, and I had to brace my hands against my knees to stay upright.

“Give me a minute,” I wheezed, holding up one hand.

“Do you realize what could have just happened to you? What is wrong with you? Do you enjoy putting yourself in harm’s way?” Cooper’s hands clamped around my arms and gave me the slightest shake.

“Which question do you want me to answer first, Cooper?” I asked, my voice uncharacteristically calm. I broke eye contact and looked down, and we both realized exactly how unclothed he was. Cooper stepped away, and his arms dropped to his sides. Now that the angry red had faded from his cheeks, he seemed embarrassed by his outburst.

“I was walking Oscar. He got away from me,” I said. “If I’d known there was a bear, I would have run in the opposite direction, trust me. I don’t have any death wishes or adrenaline addictions that I’m aware of. Here lately, I seem to find myself in the very wrong place at the very wrong time. What are you doing out here, anyway?”

Cooper flushed again. “I can change anytime I want, but the urge to do it is a little stronger during the full moon.” Cooper gestured to the faintly glowing orb rising in the distance. “When the urge to phase is this strong, I usually end up hunting.”

“So close to my house?”

“You’ve been throwing bread crusts and scraps out in your backyard for the birds, right?”

I nodded.

“Well, you might want to stop,” he said. “Free food attracts all kinds of animals. Squirrels, foxes, elk. There’s a particularly lazy family of rabbits that cuts through your yard every night, scarfs up the buffet, and heads to that stream,” he said, nodding through the clearing. Now that the blood was no longer roaring in my ears, I could actually hear the musical splashing of water over rocks. “Smaller animals attract larger predators.”

“Such as yourself.”

“Or bears, which you seem to think will be chased off by whimpering and screaming.”

“Hmph,” I snorted, not quite convinced. “Well, do me a favor. Don’t snack on your prey on my front lawn. It disturbs my sleep.”

Cooper’s brow creased. “What do you mean?”

“My first night in town, you brought down an elk right outside my front door. Scared the crap out of me. Of course, at the time, I thought you were a real wolf, not a Cooper wolf. Not that there’s a whole lot of difference.” Cooper’s stare was blank and embarrassed. I asked, “You don’t remember any of this?”

He shrugged. “I don’t remember everything I do when I’m a wolf. It’s sort of like dreaming. You remember bits and pieces but not everything. My grandfather says it’s the weak human mind’s way of protecting us from remembering the less pleasant aspects of wolf life, like eating raw meat. Some wolves are better at keeping a clear picture, though. It helps if you run with a pack. Some say it’s like having a collective memory. My cousin Samson says it’s like having a bunch of frat brothers ready and willing to remind you of the stupid things you did when you were blackout drunk.”

That explained a lot, particularly his uncertainty about whether he’d attacked Susie. And he didn’t remember helping me in the alley, because it hadn’t been important enough to remember. Or he did remember and didn’t think it was important enough to mention. Somehow I was glad he couldn’t guess how much either option hurt me.

“Are you OK?” he asked, his voice soft as he stared at the ground. “You’re not hurt or anything?”

“I’m a little shaken up, and I’m never going to be able to hear ‘Teddy Bear Picnic’ without flashbacks, but physically, I’m fine.”

“Good,” he said, clearing his throat. “I don’t want anything to happen to you, Mo. I—people around here couldn’t stand that.”

I shrugged it off, as if I hadn’t noticed that sentence had started with “I” before he tacked on “people.”

“It’s my pancakes,” I told him solemnly. “They inspire loyalty.”

“Stop that. Stop making jokes when I’m talking about you getting hurt,” he said, looking me in the eye now as his fingers wrapped around my arm, pulling me closer. The warmth of his hand burned through my clothes and traveled up my arm. “You have to—nothing can happen to you, do you hear me? You have to take care of yourself.”

My brow furrowed at his sudden shift in demeanor. “OK, I’m sorry.”

“Promise me,” he insisted, the timber of his voice lowering to a rumble that vibrated through my chest. “Promise me you won’t take risks like this again. That you’ll stay inside at night, where it’s safe.”

His mouth was close, his breath gliding over my cheek like a caress. The heat of it, the intensity, had me dizzy. Everything around me was fluid motion and bleeding color. But Cooper remained still and constant.

“Promise,” he whispered huskily.

“I promise, Cooper,” I said, reluctantly pulling away from him. The loss of contact seemed to sober him. He straightened, his face smoothing out from the worried lines that creased it. He reached down to pat Oscar. My little sausage-shaped buddy shied away from contact with the recognized top dog.

Cooper sighed. “Let’s get you and Oscar home.”

He lowered into a crouch. I saw the light of transformation spread this time, starting with the skin over his chest and moving to the long, rangy limbs. I was so caught up in watching that he’d almost completely changed when I spluttered, “W-wait, what are you doing?”

“Phasing,” he said, looking annoyed when he had to switch back to human. “That bear could circle back, and it’s best if it sees a threat right away if it catches up to us. Besides, I don’t like walking through the woods naked. The limbs are dangerous to my . . . parts. And it’s awkward being naked in front of you.”

I nodded. “Agreed.”

Cooper phased fully this time, the light rippling across his skin, leaving black fur and sinew in its wake. He gave a short bark to Oscar. I had a half-second to wonder whether they could understand each other when Oscar fell in line with Cooper and marched through the brush toward home, the two of them sweeping my flanks like some canine military escort.

Cooper led us to the porch. As relieved as I was to see the warm, yellow light pouring out of the windows, the smoke rising from the chimney, I wasn’t quite ready to leave the woods yet. I had too many questions for Cooper.

I stood there staring at him. Cooper let out a sharp huff and jerked his head toward my front door. I guessed I was getting the kiss-off version of the werewolf good night.

“Um, good night, Cooper.”

Cooper whined and blew out another breath.

“Happy hunting?” I offered. This seemed to pacify him. He let out another sharp, commanding woof to Oscar, who answered back with two staccato yaps. Cooper nodded his head and darted away, his black fur melting into the darkness.

I looked down at Oscar, who seemed to be standing at attention. I rolled my eyes. “Did you just get left in charge of me?”

Oscar let out a deep growl that would probably be quite intimidating to squirrels everywhere.

“Great.”

10

Remind Me Not to

Lick Any Flagpoles

HELL ISN’T HOT. HELL is cold—eye-watering, tooth-chattering, razor-sharp goose bumps cold.

Winter started off small. Wanting to keep my coat on hours after I’d gone into the kitchen. Not being able to put my bare foot down on my bedroom floor without losing my breath. Then, one morning, I walked out the door, bundled into my thick down parka, felt the icy slap of the air against my cheeks, and ran right back into the house.

I was sleeping later and later each morning to avoid waking up in the dark. I was aware that my thin blood made the transition to cold weather worse. My pride was the only thing that kept me from arriving at work wearing a full-body snow-suit. But in the mornings, I would allow myself the luxury of burrowing under four full-size quilts and waiting until the last possible second to get up and get dressed.

And that’s exactly what I was doing when Evie came into my room on my next morning off and whipped the covers from over my head.

“I thought we were going shopping today,” she said, bouncing the mattress and jostling the pillow from under my head.

“This is a direct violation of the ‘tell your friends where your spare key is hidden’ trust,” I told her, huddled under the blanket.

It was Sunday. Evie needed to drive to Bulk Wonderland in Conover to get some supplies for the saloon. While they relied on suppliers for food and drink, it was cheaper to buy some restaurant paraphernalia in bulk and drive it home themselves. I jumped at the chance to go with her, which was just a sad commentary on the current state of my social life. We decided to make a girls’ day of it. The agenda included lunch, manicures, and buying industrial-sized air freshener for the men’s room.

“It’s so galdamn cold, I think my eyelids have frozen in place,” I whimpered. “What made me think I could do this? I need heat. I need to get into a car and wince when my legs touch the seat. I need to have reason to know all of the symptoms of sunstroke, which I had memorized by the time I was twelve.”

“You’ll feel better this summer,” she assured me. “The days will get longer. You’ll be able to peel down to two layers of clothes. Come on, Mo, you promised.”

I whined and pulled the comforter back over my head.

“If you don’t get up, I will mention this episode to Cooper the next time he comes into the bar. Imagine the taunting that will follow.”

I gritted my teeth, whipping the covers from over my head. “You’re a hard woman, Evie DuChamp.”

“Don’t you forget it,” Evie said, patting my head. “By the way, did you say ‘galdamn’ back there?”