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I swallowed hard, knowing I should refuse, knowing I was crossing lines that could never be uncrossed. “Okay.”
His smile was brilliant and just a little wild. “Wear something you don’t mind getting dirty,” he advised, then leaned in to speak directly into my ear. “Or nothing at all.”
With that parting shot, he strode away toward the fire station, leaving me flustered and aroused in the middle of the town square. I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself, trying to remember that I was a professional on assignment.
What am I doing? This is madness. He’s a werewolf. An actual werewolf. And I’m going to his cabin on the night of a full moon.
The rational part of my brain—the part that had earned two master’s degrees and a reputation for meticulous attention to safety protocols—was screaming at me to reconsider. The rest of me, parts I barely recognized anymore, was already counting the hours until nine o’clock.
Chapter 5
Shep’s cabin turned out to be less rustic than I had imagined. Nestled in a clearing overlooking the north shore of the lake, it was a substantial structure of logs and stone, with a wide porch and large windows. Solar panels gleamed on the south-facing portion of the roof, and a state-of-the-art Jeep was parked beside Shep’s enormous truck.
“Not quite what you expected?” he asked as he helped me down from the passenger side of his truck.
I shook my head. “I was picturing something more… primitive.”
He laughed. “What, you thought I’d live in a cave? Tear apart raw meat with my teeth?”
“No,” I protested, though the mental image wasn’t entirely unappealing in a primal sort of way. “But this is…”
“Civilized?” he suggested, guiding me toward the front door with a hand on the small of my back.
“Modern,” I corrected. “Sustainable. Energy-efficient.” I gestured to the solar array. “That’s a top-of-the-line system.”
His smile was amused as he unlocked the door. “I’m a Fire Chief, Evan. I know something about safety and planning too.”
The interior was just as surprising as the exterior. Open and airy, with high ceilings and a wall of windows facing the lake, it had the comfortable, lived-in feel of a real home rather than a bachelor pad. The furniture was sturdy and masculine but well-chosen, the kitchen modern and clearly used regularly.
“You cook?” I asked, noting the professional-grade range and the herbs growing in pots on the windowsill.
“I’m a werewolf, not a barbarian,” he replied, moving past me to open the fridge. “Beer?”
I accepted the offered bottle, using the moment to gather my thoughts. I’d dressed as instructed in jeans and a simple t-shirt—clothes I wouldn’t mind “getting dirty”—but now that I was here, in his territory, I felt oddly vulnerable. Not afraid, exactly, but aware in a way I hadn’t been before of the fundamental differences between us.
He must have sensed my unease, because he kept a careful distance as he leaned against the kitchen island. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he said, his tone gentler than usual. “I just wanted you here. With me.”
The simple honesty in his words eased something in my chest. “I want to be here,” I assured him. “It’s just… a lot to process.”
He nodded, taking a sip of his beer. “Ask me anything. I know you’ve been making a list.”
He was right; I had been compiling questions since our night in the tower. “How many others like you are there?”
“In Liberty Lake? Just me.” He set his beer down, rolling his shoulders as though they were tight. “My pack is… was… further north. I came here after the fire that took my parents.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, genuinely surprised by this personal revelation. “Is that why you became a firefighter?”
He nodded. “Seemed fitting to turn the thing that took them into something I could control, could use to help others.” He smiled slightly. “The werewolf senses don’t hurt in that line of work.”
I moved closer, emboldened by his openness. “Does everyone in town know? About what you are?”
“No.” He reached out, his fingers tracing the line of my jaw. “Just you.”
The knowledge that he had trusted me—me, the outsider sent to potentially shut down his town’s celebration—with this secret was both thrilling and sobering. “Why tell me?”
His smile turned rueful. “Wasn’t planning to. But you’re too observant for your own good.” His hand dropped to my shoulder, then slid down my arm to take my hand. “And I wanted you to know what you were getting into.”
I set my barely-touched beer on the counter, stepping fully into his space. “Show me,” I said, surprising myself with my boldness. “Show me what you are.”
