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[center]His Wolf Part 1 - by A. A. Samuel[/center]

Sam drove through a waterfall. It looked that way, at least—sounded like it too. The day had been nice when he'd gone out to the woods for his hike, but now, winding home down the mountain—almost back to town but not quite—Sam could barely see through the storm, no matter how high he cranked his wipers.

He slowed for one last, narrow curve, and then breathed a sigh of relief. Here was a long straight stretch, safe as houses, and Sam seemed to have driven past the worst of the storm. The rain slackened by a hair, and he was almost ho- . . .

An impact shook the whole car.

A figure in the rain spun away from Sam's path. He caught a glimpse of a low, furred shoulder—nothing else clear.

No. Oh shit. He'd hit a deer. Poor stupid thing, out on the road, night like this.

Shit.

Shaking from adrenalin, Sam applied the brakes, pulled carefully to the mud-caked shoulder. The rain, as if in apology, continued to slacken. Sam pulled on his coat and hood, took a breath for courage, and launched himself out into the wet.

Huge, fat drops echoed thunderously inside his waterproof hood. His boots squelched with every step—better not stay parked too long, or his tires might get stuck.

Sam glanced back toward where he'd heard the impact. A body lay in the road. Looked bigger than he'd expected, but still probably in the deer range. Shit. Poor thing. He wasn't even sure what he'd done wrong, how he'd failed to see the creature.

As near as Sam could tell in the dark and the rain and the intermittent yellow flashing of his hazard lights, it wasn't moving. Probably beyond help then.

He checked his fender. Ouch. Right headlight cracked, big ugly dent. Yeah, the deer was dead. Sam felt awful, but he hadn't been driving that fast! He'd kept his eyes on the road, and he wasn't intoxicated or even very tired . . .

[i]I guess it's just bad luck[/i], he thought.

Well, he didn't want the thing to cause another accident, so he supposed he should move it to the shoulder. Sam could look up who he should call to report this once he got home. Data plan signal would probably be nonexistent out here anyway.

Bracing himself for a gory, sad sight, Sam slogged through the mud toward his accidental victim. It looked furrier than a deer, as he got closer. Bulkier too. The color seemed too dark for a deer, even in this weather.

Oh shit. [i]Please don't tell me I killed somebody's dog.[/i]

A few steps closer, though, and . . . it was canine, all right—a tall, lanky canine, with black fur hanging limp and drenched along its still body. Sam swallowed a lump in his throat. Poor boy. Bracing himself further, Sam went to check for a collar and tags. At least he could do the right thing and let the owners know.

He steeled himself to approach the body. Kneeling beside it, he saw no wounds. It must have fallen on its injured side. He saw no collar, but the dog's fur was thick enough, it might be hidden. He'd have to touch it to be sure.

It was a gorgeous creature too, to add to the tragedy. Even through the rain-soaked fur, Sam could tell that this was the sleekest wolf-looking dog he'd ever seen. Its face and ears were regal in their lines, its body graceful and lean. Only its raven black fur gave any hint of dog heritage, but Sam's state only boasted two wild wolves, he'd heard. Neither was black.

This was probably a hybrid. Probably mostly wolf. Shit. Poor guy.

One last breath for strength, and Sam reached for the wolf's neck, feeling for a collar.

He didn't feel a collar.

Instead, he felt the wolf move.

He glanced at its side. Its breath rose and fell, evenly, serenely. Sam stared. Every hair on his body stood on end. It was alive, but . . .

He looked to its face.

Sam had one moment to register a wink of a golden eye, a flash of doggish, panting grin.

Then it was on him.

Growling, snarling. Sharp pain. Sam shouted and flailed, scrabbling backward through the mud, arms up to defend his face and body. It pressed him hard, biting deep into his left forearm, tearing through the raincoat like it wasn't even there. Sam fell backward in the mud. He tried to bring his legs to bear, to kick the thing, but it dodged cannily aside and switched its grip to his ankle, puncturing his tough jeans as easily as the coat. Sam realized he was screaming. Everything happened too fast. He tried to get his bearings, tried to make a plan.

He needed a weapon, or a shield, or . . .

As suddenly as it had attacked, the wolf relented. It darted back, cocking its head as if in appraisal, observing its handiwork while Sam tried to stop screaming, tried to find his feet.

And then it ended.

With another doggish grin, the black wolf loped off the road, disappearing among the trees.

Sam forced his screams down to a whimper, but he couldn't seem to silence them. He forced himself to stand, but he was dizzy and limped badly. He stumbled to the car. Trembling, he shut himself inside it and locked the doors. Unthinking, unable to think, Sam started the engine and pulled back onto the road.

Warm water. Familiar shower. Soft splat of droplets against the shower curtain.

Don't look at the blood in the drain.

[i]Have to know how bad I'm hurt.[/i]

[i]Why didn't I drive to the hospital?[/i]

[i]Shock, probably.[/i]

Sam steeled himself and looked down at his injuries. He stared at them.

He kept staring.

They didn't actually look that bad. Had he over-reacted?

Sam's breathing calmed in relief. He got out the soap and gently washed himself. All the wounds were still tender, but the bleeding had stopped. Once they were clean, he shut off the shower, carefully, carefully dried himself, and inspected the bites more closely.

That was weird. They looked . . . too healed? Could a wound that big look that closed and scabbed after only an hour? And Sam was sure he'd been scratched and bruised on the back of his hand there. Was he remembering wrong? He saw no bruises at all, and just a pink scar from what must have been some other scratch a week or so ago.

Well, it's not every day one gets attacked by a wolf on the road. Of course he didn't remember clearly. Even if his injuries weren't as bad as he'd initially thought, Sam had still better get himself to the doctor in case of rabies or . . .

Sam's eyes fell on his discarded clothing.

So much blood. How could there be SO much blood?

Water. Water was important after blood loss. Everything would make more sense after a glass of water. Sam lurched from the bathroom and out toward his kitchen.

A naked man lounged on Sam's couch. Like he owned it.

What the . . . ?

"You forgot to lock your front door," said the man. He was a big guy, tall and muscular, with an arrogant smile and golden brown eyes. His hair was black. "Not that it would have made a difference."

What? Sam stared. Pants. He should have pants. The man on his couch should also have pants. Why . . . ?

He turned back for his bedroom. He'd go in there, shut the door, put on pants, and call the police. Yes. It was a good plan.

He made it three, wobbling steps.

"Come here," said the man on the couch.

Sam froze. He didn't know why. He began to turn back toward his uninvited, nude guest. He couldn't stop himself.

No. He [i]would[/i] stop himself. He had to get to his phone . . .

Forest? What?

[i]Why am I in a forest?[/i]

Deep, canine snarls. A blow to the chest from nowhere. Sam fell on his ass in the dirt.

When he opened his eyes, he stood beside his practical, grey-brown couch, barely a foot from the naked man, who grinned up at him. The man's cock was hard.

"Kneel down," the man said.

Sam didn't mean to obey. He couldn't understand why he did.

He was between the man's knees now, uncomfortably close to his large, erect cock.

What the hell was going on?

"Tell me your name," the man said.

"Sam." Sam wondered who had spoken, then realized it had been himself. His own voice sounded strange.

"Sam," said the man, grinning wider. "That works out well. You can call me Alpha. Or Master. Whichever you prefer."

What?

"Lick my cock, Sam," Alpha said.

No. Absolutely not. Not my thing. I only fuck girls, dude. I . . .

Snarling fangs in his face. Arms pinned. Weight on his back.

Wind in the trees.

Alpha's cock tasted salty, like clean sweat. It smelled male—extremely, powerfully male.

Sam shivered all over, in lust he didn't understand or want.

"All around the tip, get it nice and moist," Alpha instructed. His breathing had deepened with pleasure. He had a hand on the back of Sam's head, caressing and forceful at once.

Sam hated it, didn't want this man touching him.

He didn't understand what was happening.

He obeyed Alpha's orders, licking diligently. A drop of pre swelled near Sam's tongue.

"Lick it up," Alpha murmured. "Savor it."

It was salty too, and rich. Sam managed a whimper. He liked the taste. He hated that he liked the taste.

"Good bitch," Alpha said.

Sam reeled back in anger. Alpha laughed a full, throaty laugh.

"Cute," he said, "but I didn't tell you to stop. Keep licking. In fact, no matter what you hear or see or feel, just keep licking until I tell you to stop."

Helplessly, Sam obeyed.

"You're a werewolf now," Alpha said. "You belong to me, your alpha. I made you, and you will obey me, in all things, for the rest of your life."

Sam licked Alpha's cock in long, tender strokes. His own cock throbbed with need. His eyes began to run with tears. Sam panted and strained to do [i]anything[/i] but obey. He failed. He took another lick.

"In case you don't believe me . . ." Alpha said.

He began to change.

Sam was up too close to see the whole change properly. He saw Alpha's thighs and pelvis grow. Even his big cock grew, and then . . . black fur, sprouting over human skin, over Alpha's testicles. His cock changed color, turned a brighter red. It changed shape under Sam's tongue, sliding silkily into a form halfway between human and dog.

Or wolf.

Sam licked up more precum. It tasted even better now. He shook all over, terrified. He wanted to stop, to look at this monster, this black-furred [i]thing[/i] he so intimately caressed, but he couldn't. No matter what he heard, saw, or felt, Sam just kept licking, as Alpha had ordered.

It was like . . . like someone else had control of his body.

. . . [i]wind in the leaves . . .[/i]

"I'm going to fuck your mouth now," Alpha growled. His voice was deep and rumbling now, if anything more arrogant, more accustomed to command.

A huge, clawed hand gripped Sam by his short, blond hair, pressing his face further toward the monster's crotch.

"Open wide," Alpha said.

Sam gagged and whimpered as the huge, half-canine cock was shoved down his throat. He couldn't do anything. He couldn't bite. His hands remained obediently folded in his lap no matter what he did. His own cock throbbed painfully, with desire he didn't understand.

As promised, Alpha commenced then to fuck Sam's mouth, hard and deep. Helpless tears ran down Sam's face as he fell into Alpha's rhythmic thrusting. In and out, in and out. Sam's jaw began to tire.

Why was this happening? Who was controlling him? What . . . ?

Dappled moonlight streamed down between the rustling trees. Sam stared around him. The forest again. His face was smashed into the dirt. His right arm burned, twisted behind him. Someone held him down, with a knee in his back. They'd been this way for a while, he could tell. It began to feel familiar in its aches and numbnesses.

Sam hoped that meant his captor might have stopped paying attention. He gathered himself to spring all at once, and then . . .

A heave, a grunt, a wrench, a scramble, and Sam was away. He spun toward his opponent.

She was a wolf-person, a female with soft, creamy fur. She snarled at him with bright, canine fangs. Sam's knees went weak. He had no time to notice more, before she was on him again.

She punched him in the chest so hard he spat bile. He fell over, curled around himself. She pushed him down further and sat on his back.

"We must obey Alpha," she growled. "I take the body until you do it right."

Nothing made sense. Sam wasn't sure anything could ever make sense again.

[i]I hope I've gone insane[/i], he thought. [i]It would be relief to wake up in a nice, normal mental hospital.[/i]

"Who are you?" he managed to gasp.

The wolfwoman on top of him snorted. "Sam," was all she said.

Sam's mouth was full of cock. All he could see was black fur and the semi-canine shaft that fucked his face. All he could smell was . . . Alpha: strong and male, wholly dominant. All he could hear was Alpha's rumbling, lustful chuckle. The hand on the back of his head jerked him suddenly, violently backward, flung him across the room until Sam landed on the DVDs and game controllers in front of his entertainment system. Things crunched painfully beneath him. He had no mental space to wonder what.

Deep in shock, wracked with terror and confusion, Sam lay still tried to play dead.

"You haven't earned my cum yet, bitch," Alpha growled. "Soon. Look at me."

Sam tried very hard not to move, but the wolfwoman—in the forest that couldn't possibly exist—held him down.

It must have been her, who acted through him, who forced his eyes obediently to Alpha's golden gaze.

Alpha grinned again. His grin was more frightening now. He was huge, towering over Sam, bulky with corded muscle. His face was a wolf's face, though more expressive through the eyes and mouth. All of his expression pointed toward cruel arrogance. He appeared to gloat.

"I'll be back tomorrow, for your change," he said. "Stay close by."

Alpha turned toward Sam's front door. His great, clawed, werewolf hand turned the knob and pulled the door ajar, just slightly.

"See you soon," Alpha growled. "And be prepared to show me a good time."

He took a breath and began once more to change. This time, though Alpha's body did shrink, it didn't return to its human shape. Instead, he fell to all fours as his upper body lost its remaining human structure. Within moments, bones shifting beneath the skin like living creatures, muscles rippling weirdly as they conformed to new arrangements, the wolfman became a wolf.

The same wolf that had attacked Sam on the highway.

Its tongue lolled out in silent, doggish laughter. It nosed the door open and strolled out into the night.

In the woods, the wolfwoman stepped away from Sam. She leaned casually against a tree and glared down at him.

Sam lay naked on his living room floor, his front door wide open. He noticed surreally that he felt no pain, anywhere on his body.

Gasping for air, as if it might clear his head, Sam lurched up to shut and lock his door. He put his back to its comforting solidity and slid down it to sit on the rag mat beneath.

He looked at his own body. His wounds from the wolf attack were all but gone. Pale pink scars remained in places, but in others no trace was left. If the trend continued, in another half hour all evidence that the incident had ever occurred would be erased from Sam's body.

Impossible. All of this was impossible!

What had just happened?

Five hours, too much coffee, and a maddening wild goose chase over Google later, Sam had learned almost nothing but what he could put together from his own perhaps-still-vaguely-reasoning mind.

First, Sam realized, he wasn't going to work tomorrow. Call it a mental health day, but there was no way he could go in. He fired off an email to his supervisor to take some sick leave, promising to log on for any remote work he could manage while "ill". Someone else would have to babysit the hardware until he got back.

The second thing Sam realized was that, unless he'd had a complete psychotic break—which was a possibility, but not one he could properly investigate until he could request a counseling referral from his doctor's office in the morning—werewolves were real.

Sam had seen two transformations with his own eyes. He'd seen that wolf get hit on the road and still be strong enough to attack him like it had.

Sam glanced out his front window toward his car's ruined headlight, checking for what must have been the fifteenth time to be sure it was still there. He forced himself [i]not[/i] to go stare again at his bloodied clothes, or the blood staining the car's floor and seat. They were all the proof he had of the attack. His wounds were gone now, as if they'd never been.

That was impossible, but . . . unless he'd somehow hallucinated every incident, unless he still hallucinated right now, staring at his dented fender—and none of it had felt like hallucination—Sam had to admit it was more rational to accept the data he had observed than to continue to question, at least until he'd talked to a counselor.

And that meant werewolves were real, or creatures enough like them as to make quibbling about the name irrelevant. Sam himself had been bitten. He healed at an unnatural rate. He must be a werewolf too.

If werewolves were real, then it seemed likely there were others—not just the scary bastard who'd . . .

[i]. . . no,[/i] Sam told himself, [i]don't think about him. You'll just start shaking again.[/i]

There had to be someone else, someone he could ask for advice.

The Internet had been unhelpful in finding such a person. Unless . . .

There was one site he'd found. It was actually defunct, but he'd found a link to the Wayback Machine version. "I Think I Know A Werewolf" it was called, and it was run by someone who anonymously vetted and posted the stories sent to the site. Whoever this person was, the site's criteria seemed very specific and nothing to do with spelling or grammar. All the stories were about the same, whether articulate or barely comprehensible.

• the person disappears a lot, especially around the full moon.

• the person never stays hurt very long, even after terrible injuries.

• the person exhibits sudden mood swings, and in some cases feral behavior.

• the person eats more than should be possible, despite an unusually fit physique.

That last was of interest to Sam, who'd found himself perpetually famished throughout the night. He'd already eaten two days worth of food in five hours, and he was still hungry.

The site's suspected werewolves kept others at a distance, no matter what, maintaining unusual levels of privacy, and the people who suspected them told stories of catching wolves hanging around these people's houses, and having the incident blown off as a visit from the neighbor's dog. Other stories claimed to have caught sight of huge, muscular, humanoid wolves. A few blurry pictures were posted, though nothing convincing. No names were given, of werewolves or contributors.

In fact, Sam might have ignored the site despite having been desperate enough to click on it in the first place, except that . . .

One of the blurry pictures was of a place Sam recognized. He'd attended a graduation party at his friend Jake's house, just five years ago, and he probably wouldn't have remembered that particular little footbridge beside that particular tree, with that particular crumbling barn behind it, except that he'd accidentally caught Jake out there with a girl. Jake was always with a girl, that was nothing new, but she'd been a very pretty girl, and very naked, and their activities had been very . . . far along.

The scene had burned itself into Sam's brain before he could look away, fleeing back to the party to report that nope, he couldn't find Jake anywhere, sorry guys.

And this photo of a blurry, possibly-photoshopped wolfman was taken in exactly that spot.

And again, Sam might have written that off as a prank Jake himself had pulled while bored, except . . .

Jake never stopped eating, and was always perfectly fit.

Jake had a habit of turning intense—a sort of high-alert focus that shut out everything else—whenever he liked a woman's scent. Sam would have called it predatory, except that he never—that Sam knew of—got himself in trouble for harassment or misconduct. Women seemed to like him fine, but . . . something about his eyes when he chose his . . . prey . . . it had always unsettled Sam—like Jake had another personality when he was horny.

And Sam remembered the day Jake had hurt himself in their mandatory fitness class. Kate had sworn she heard Jake's ankle [i]snap[/i], and it had swollen up so fast, the coach had been sure it was a bad sprain at least, but Jake had barely limped back to the locker room after only a half hour's rest, and he'd been fine for practice the next day, swearing that everyone had seen wrong and it was never a bad fall.

And there was that wolf that people had kept seeing around campus. The whole time Sam attended that college, there'd been periodic wolf-sightings all over. Everyone assumed someone nearby had a pet wolf-dog who kept getting loose, but no one ever managed to figure out whose it was, even after it tackled and injured a guy whose girlfriend said he'd assaulted her. The guy wanted the wolf put down, but she said the wolf had rescued her.

Come to think of it, that girl had briefly dated Jake not long after.

Sam didn't know Jake well, himself. They got along great in every class they'd shared, had a lot of interests in common, had hung out more than once in the cafeteria, but they'd never spent time together anywhere else, other than that one graduation party. Kate had dated Jake briefly, before she'd dated Sam almost as briefly, and while Kate did have issues of her own, she'd claimed she broke up with Jake for the same reason she'd heard every girl on campus breaks up with Jake. He wouldn't talk about himself, and he kept secrets. Kate had assumed he was just always cheating on his girlfriends, and really that seemed more likely except . . .

. . . except that Sam had nothing else to go on, in the whole world.

And he had to figure out what was going on. He needed advice. He needed somewhere to hide. At worst, Jake lived out in the country a ways, and his place wasn't somewhere anyone would look for Sam.

It was crazy. It was stupid. It was fucking 2 AM. Sam didn't know what else to do. He had to get out of his house before that black-furred bastard came back.

He had to go [i]somewhere[/i].

Trembling again, Sam dressed to go out. He got his keys and his wallet. He reached for his jacket, hanging on its usual peg near the door. The sleeve drooped raggedly, mangled from the black wolf's attack. Well, if Sam could heal from all injuries, he'd be ok in a t-shirt, even if it got cold.

He went to the door and turned the knob.

Claws raked across Sam's chest. He was naked again, in the woods, stumbling backward from the cream-furred wolfwoman. Blood ran down his chest, but it disappeared into nothing before it could drip onto the ground below. Sam watched it surreally for a heartbeat, then stared back up at the wolfwoman.

She was naked too, and . . . beautiful! Tall and muscular for a woman, but in no way that marred her looks. Her size and strength seemed rather to enhance her body's lush curves. Her face was inhuman, of course, as well as her legs, and she had fur everywhere, but . . . now that he was calmer, Sam had to admit, she was . . . startlingly appealing for a fairytale monster.

"Why do you keep attacking me?" Sam asked her.

She snorted. "You keep disobeying. I have to take the body, to be loyal to my Alpha."

Sam's mind reeled. "But he's not even here!" he said. "And why do you care? Who are you?"

She growled softly. "He said stay close by," she explained, as if to a moron. "He is strong. A good wolf is loyal to a strong leader."

Sam stared at her. What . . . ? Where was he, anyway? What was this place? Why was she here, and how . . .

Were they inside Sam's head? Was that why, when she beat him, she seemed able to control what he did?

"As for who I am," she said, "You asked before, and I told you. I am Sam. I am the wolf called Sam, and this body is mine. I . . ." Her expression softened slightly, turned puzzled, worried. Sam noticed that her eyes were blue, like his own. "I don't know much else," she said. "I know that you are also Sam. I have your memories in my head, but they aren't mine. I feel like . . . like I was just born." She shook her head, looking lost.

Human-Sam took a step toward her, though whether he meant to comfort her or take advantage of her distraction he hadn't honestly decided. He was too overwhelmed by all this to think clearly.

Before he could do either, wolf-Sam's eyes hardened, and she growled at him. He froze where he was.

"Confusion is all the more reason to obey," she snapped. "We do as Alpha says. He has claimed us as his female. It is an honor to be desired by one so strong."

Human-Sam shook his head. "You can't be Sam," he all but pleaded. "[i]I'm[/i] Sam. You can't have my body. You can't make these decisions for me. Plus, I'm a [i]guy![/i] I can't be anyone's female!"

Wolf-Sam waved a hand, rolling her eyes. "[i]I[/i] am female," she said, "and I clearly [i]can[/i] make decisions for us, since you are weak, and cowardly, and stupid." She nodded as if all was settled. "I will take control when I need to, to ensure we follow our mighty leader."

Her words stung, badly. Human-Sam had done way too much screaming and shivering and even crying tonight to not feel less of a man just now. He'd lost every battle he'd fought, and he'd been forced to literally suck cock.

He felt pretty damn weak, cowardly, and stupid about now. He felt sick, was the truth. He felt like he teetered over a pit of self-hatred and surrender that he didn't think he could ever climb out of.

And the wolfwoman was right. Though a fair bit smaller than the black-furred wolfman, she was bigger than human-Sam was, in height and breadth. She was fast too, and strong, and she had claws and fangs on top of it all. Human-Sam couldn't beat her. He wouldn't know where to start.

But he didn't want this fucking "Alpha" to win. That bastard would [i]not[/i] control Sam's destiny.

"What about . . ." Human-Sam thought fast. ". . . showing him a good time? Those were his orders too. Wolves like to chase things, right? The thrill of the hunt?"

Wolf-Sam cocked her head, and her ears perked in human-Sam's direction. Yes. He could reason with her. He could convince her. She had his memories, but she obviously didn't think like him. He could do this.

Nodding, he went on, "He said to stay close by, but 'close' is relative. If you're in a jet plane, Seattle's practically next door, and it's not like I'm proposing to go to Tokyo, right?" Mostly because he couldn't afford a ticket, but he didn't have to tell her that. "You won't impress him just sitting around here waiting for him to get back."

As he spoke, her eyes took on a dreamy, faraway quality. No, not dreamy, hungry. Her hand moved to her own fur and down across her thighs toward the fluffier tuft of her mons. Human-Sam didn't mean to look, but his eyes naturally followed her movement until he noticed that he could [i]see[/i] the tips of her labia glistening wetly between her thighs. They seemed swollen compared to a human's vulva, and human-Sam remembered visiting a cousin who bred spaniels.

"Are you in heat?" he asked, suddenly wary.

Startled, she tugged her hand away from herself. "Not for you!" she snapped.

Beautiful as she was, human-Sam found he didn't want her that way either. Or rather, sex [i]here—[/i]in this forest that might exist only in Sam's head[i]—[/i]seemed . . . different from regular sex. He wasn't interested. Still, he had to ask, "Why not?"

Another of her derisive sniffs. "This forest is of the mind," she said, as it if should be obvious. "I need proper fucking."

Ok, that was hot. Human-Sam just didn't want her using his body for it, especially not with that fucking "Alpha" bastard.

"Uh," he said, awkwardly feeling himself get hard, remembering he was naked.

Wolf-Sam seemed more amused by this than anything else. He thought she'd realized that their feelings were mutual—appreciative of beauty, but not "attracted" per se. She eyed his swelling erection with a surprisingly friendly, weirdly platonic wink.

He swallowed, offering, "I'll see what I can do, but look, I'm not into dudes . . ."

She appeared to lose interest and turned away. "I [i]am,"[/i] she said, "and I am stronger."

Sam reeled. "Please," he found himself begging. "I need to talk to someone. I have a friend . . ."

She stared at him as if in horror. "You would [i]tell[/i] someone you've become a werewolf?"

She had a point. "Not just anybody!" he promised. He'd seen enough movies to know he had to be careful. "I think he [i]is[/i] a werewolf. He might have advice . . ."

Wolf-Sam paused and glanced back. Something sly gleamed in her eyes. Human-Sam couldn't read it, but he knew he didn't like it.

What she said, though, was, "Travel no further than Alpha could run in a day. You have convinced me that a chase will entertain. I permit you to seek out your friend."

Sam spent the entire car trip so uncomfortably and inexplicably horny that he made four wrong turns. He got himself sufficiently lost to need his phone for GPS guidance back to the highway. Sam wished he knew Jake's exact address, but he had to navigate by memory instead . . . while ignoring the most raging hard-on he'd ever had.

Was this wolf-Sam's doing? Would he be horny like this every time she was in heat?

Did all werewolves just get saddled with some random wolf-person in their heads?

Sam hoped desperately that Jake would know. That Jake would be home. That Jake wouldn't call the cops.

Sam finally pulled down the dirt driveway. It was nearly four. Fuck. Sam really, really hoped "Alpha" couldn't find him here. He parked his Honda under a big tree, wedged between Jake's Subaru and a fence. He wondered if Jake had a tarp they could use to hide Sam's vehicle further, though . . . if Alpha made it this far, a tarp probably wouldn't make much difference.

Sam sat in his car, breathing deep until his hands stopped shaking. Then he went to Jake's front door and knocked.

"Damn it, Jess!" Sam heard after a pause. "I never had your fucking jacke- . . ."

The door swung sharply open. Jake, in nothing but boxers, blinked dazedly out at Sam.

"It's four in the fucking morning," Jake said.

Sam was uncomfortably, newly aware that Jake's physique was ridiculously perfect—creamy brown skin over a classical build, startling grey-green eyes in a strong-jawed, symmetrical face, with ringed brown curls at the edges of his short afro haircut . . .

[i]That's the wolf's thoughts, not mine[/i], human-Sam thought desperately, shoving them aside.

"Hi Jake," he managed. "I'm in trouble."

"Did I mention it being four in the fucking morning?" Jake sounded more pained than angry, but . . . he wasn't [i]not[/i] annoyed.

"Are you a werewolf?" Sam blurted, panicking.

Jake blinked. He seemed suddenly wide awake, face blandly unreadable. "You show up on my doorstep at four in the fucking morning, to ask me if I'm a werewolf?"

Sam put up both his hands, shaking his head wildly. "No, no, there's this asshole, and he bit me, well, no, a wolf bit me, but the asshole turned into the wolf, and he said, I'm . . ."

"Get the fuck inside," Jake said.

Sam hurried in. His host shut and locked the door behind them.

"On the couch," Jake said gravely. "I'll get you a beer. How the fuck did you know to come here?"

Jake, it turned out, was born a werewolf. After Sam confessed the string of wild luck and guesswork that had led him to Jake's doorstep, Jake had nodded tiredly, scribbled down the name of the website, and calmly shared his own story with Sam. His parents were both werewolves, and he'd begun transforming naturally and harmoniously somewhere around puberty. He'd seen before, however, how rough things could be for bitten 'wolves. For someone rudely awakened at four in the morning, he was startlingly sympathetic.

Between that and the beer, Sam started to calm down. He wasn't crazy. The world was bigger than he'd realized, that was all. He remained uncomfortably horny, but . . . that much he could keep in check.

"What I still don't get," Sam said, finishing his beer, "is this forest inside my head. There's this wolfwoman who keeps . . . kicking my ass."

Jake's eyebrows shot up. "I never pegged you for trans," he said. "Huh."

Trans? What? As in transsexual? "No, no!" Sam insisted, waving his hands, "I'm all man. I don't know what's up with her. She's like . . . like this whole other person, nothing to do with me."

Only one of Jake's remarkably expressive eyebrows went down.

[i]It's those bright green eyes,[/i] Sam thought, [i]makes it hard to look away from him.[/i] He caught his own thoughts and shuddered. Stupid wolf-bitch in his brain, making everything weird. Well, more weird.

Jake was shaking his head. "Your wolf is just you," he said. "I mean, I know bitten weres can have a hard time coming to terms with it, but the wolf is like a . . . subset of your soul. You have to integrate. For me, there's almost no separation. I've grown up with him. My other self's got more say in the wolf forms, and I've got more in this one, but who cares? He's me. He's just more . . . primal, that's all. You just have to get in touch with your primal self. Learn to work together."

Jake seemed serenely confident. He seemed to know exactly what he was talking about.

Sam knew he had to be wrong. It wasn't like Sam was religiously conservative, or from a conservative family. He had no reason to hide this stuff from himself. He'd never been uncomfortable with gay guys, nor the slightest bit interested. They were just people, like any other people. And Sam had always felt in-touch with his feminine side—the part of him that squeed at cute animals and cried at movies—but he'd never felt uncomfortable in his body, nor any desire to live with different gender rules.

He'd always just been himself. He'd always been fine the way he was. Sam opened his mouth to explain this to Jake, but before he could say anything, Jake finished his beer and stood up.

"Well," he said. "Let's get some sleep, eh? You probably need it. I'll get you a pillow and a couple more blankets. Guest room's full of junk. Couch ok?"

And suddenly Sam was so tired he could barely see straight. Sleep. Everything would be better after sleep.

Jake knew how to feed a werewolf. Both men woke up late, past noon, and spent the next few hours just eating. They had a whole carton of eggs between them, pan-fried potatoes, oatmeal, toast, jam, fresh fruit, bacon—so much bacon!—sausages, juice, more sausages—a different kind this time—and piles of waffles with syrup and whipped cream for a sort of dessert.

It should have left them painfully, sickeningly full. It didn't. Sam just felt like he'd finally had a decent meal.

"Your food budget has got to be through the roof," Sam murmured, helping with the dishes. He was uncomfortably aware this morning that Jake smelled amazing—positively lickable. He hoped Jake couldn't see his hard-on through his jeans. He wished this fucking lust would leave him alone.

Jake laughed. "Oh yeah," he said. "Good thing I'm on an engineer's salary, right? It's worse around the full moon though, like tonight. Or if you've been healing wounds, or transforming more than you should. It's a balance there. Got to give the wolf proper outlets or you lose control, but can't go back and forth like a light switch—too much strain on the grocery bill."

He chattered amicably while they cleaned up, and Sam soaked in every word. He needed them to stay sane.

"Of course," Jake continued, "if you can get out far enough in the woods, the wolf will help you with the feeding. Can't get caught on film, or anything—monsters like us have to keep on the down-low; there's stuff way scarier than us out there—but you'd be surprised how amazing it feels to hunt down an elk with your teeth and just eat the thing raw."

Sam stared. Jake winked, but . . . Sam was almost certain he wasn't joking.

And . . . it sounded kinda good. Raw meat, hot and fresh . . . Sam shook himself and turned back to the dishes.

Jake laughed. "See what I mean?" he said. "Your primal self can be uncomfortable at first, but you'll get the hang of it."

Fuck, he was charming. Sam could see why he got laid so easy. Damn it! Why couldn't he keep control of this stupid lust . . .

"Shit," Jake said. "Will you look at that? Damn northwest autumns. We just finished breakfast and it's already getting toward sunset. What do you think, Sam? Deep woods or down in the basement for your first transformation?"

Transformation . . .

Why hadn't he thought that far ahead?

"Well, I've got that asshole looking for me, so hiding seems smart . . ."

Jake shook his head in sympathy. "What a prick—serious danger to our kind, guys like that." He sighed and nodded. "And yeah, with how disconnected you and your wolf still are, indoors is safer anyway. Come on down then. Never shared this place with anyone but my folks before. Don't bring down any clothes you don't want shredded."

Clothes . . . shredded . . .

Sam felt himself blush to the roots of his blond hair.

Jake pulled up a heavy rug in his living room to reveal a sturdy trap door. He heaved it open and tossed off his t-shirt. His hands moved to his fly.

Sam swallowed hard.

"You'll have a hard-on," Jake said. "Don't be embarrassed. Everybody does on the full moon, when . . ." He stopped at smirked, shook his head, kicked off his jeans, and padded naked down a set of stairs.

Sam took a few more breaths for calm. He steeled himself. [i]I'm not turning gay. It's just this chick in my head. And the full moon. Jake won't think anything's weird . . .[/i]

[i]I'M GOING TO TURN INTO A WEREWOLF![/i]

Sam kept breathing. This would all seem normal in a few months time. It was a transition period. He'd be ok. Jake was fine. Sam would be fine too. Probably.

He took off his clothes, folding them neatly. He followed Jake down the basement stairs.

Under Jake's house was a big, brick den. It was strewn with gorgeously-tanned animal hides, tossed incongruously among semi-shredded old blankets and couch cushions. Sam saw dog hair everywhere, and the place smelled of a doggier version of Jake, though not in a bad way. Sam wondered how hard this basement was to keep clean.

Heavy iron doors led off in three directions.

"Even for me," Jake said, "there are nights I know I won't have much control. After a bad breakup, that sort of thing." He finished fussing with the trapdoor, impressively flipping the rug back into place, so they'd be hidden down here, and locking a huge combination padlock once it was shut. "I'll tell you the combination after I meet your wolf," he promised.

He padded down to show Sam around the den.

"In there's the bathroom—basically a hole in the floor with a flush mechanism, and a giant shower all around it, easy to operate with claws. That room's the kitchen—mostly a big fridge full of raw meat, in an easy-to-clean space." Then Jake pointed to the last door, which was also combination-locked. "If I have enough control to get that lock open, there's video games, movies, a regular couch in there. If not, there's chew toys in that corner, under the cushion-pile."

"Chew toys?" Sam managed to repeat, staring around him to keep from staring at Jake's perfect, nude body.

"Yeah," Jake said with a shrug, "they're surprisingly soothing when I'm down here alone. Tonight, though, we can spar—way more fun."

Something about the way he said "spar" made Sam nervous, though he was sure it was just his currently-oversexed imagination.

"And there you go," Jake said, grinning. "Make yourself at home. Just relax into the change. Here, I'll go first."

Sam had a good view this time, to watch the transformation between human and wolfman. He saw Jake's body grow in height and masculine bulk, until the space down here seemed small and cozy instead of huge. Jake's legs stretched and flowed in impossible ways as he grew, knees bulking, feet thinning and elongating, arching up on tiptoe as his toes reformed themselves into great, clawed paws. A long, fluffy tail sprang out behind Jake, wagging gently.

Jake's upper body stayed mostly human, except for the fur. His hands stayed hands, except for thick, black claws and smooth black pads over the fingers. And, of course, his face changed completely. Sam watched in a kind of awe as his friend's jaw elongated into a canine muzzle, full of bright, sharp fangs, which Jake bared in a panting, cheerful grin. Jake's round, human ears migrated up his head, pointing first like an elf's, but resolving into furred, canine ears atop his re-shaped skull.

Only Jake's eyes remained mostly the same, that easy-going, friendly grey-green, surrounded now by brown-grey fur. Unlike "Alpha" or wolf-Sam, Jake was a natural wolf color, like any North American timber wolf.

Like the wolf that had so often been spotted on campus during college.

Sam felt weird to think anything of the kind, but, he reminded himself, it was really that wolf-chick in his head thinking it anyway: Jake was even hotter in his werewolf form. The hottest male Sam had ever seen. Except for maybe . . .

[i]Don't think it. Don't even.[/i]

Jake spread his clawed hands, his furred, muscled arms expansively. "There you go," he growled. His voice was deeper, more rumbling. His long tongue and slightly less mobile lips seemed to get in the way of talking, but he was easy enough to understand.

His eyes looked hungrier though, expectant. Sam wondered if this was Jake's wolf in charge now.

[i]For me, there's almost no separation.[/i] Jake had said.

[i]He's just a bit more . . . primal . . .[/i]

"Let's see what your lady wolf looks like, eh?" Jake growled softly, warmly.

Lady wolf? What?

Sam was going to turn into . . .

. . . her?

Wait!

The full moon hung bright and round over the forest. The light somehow echoed in Sam's blood. He felt strange, wild, but he didn't have time to examine it. Wolf-Sam smiled at him.

"You're not me," human-Sam said, alarmed, backing away from her. "This isn't your body. Why are you . . . why are you like this?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe Alpha knows—how a disobedient weakling like you could produce a loyal, strong wolf like me. When he hunts us down to take us, we'll ask him."

"You can't have my body," human-Sam insisted. "I won't let you."

His eyes fell on her vulva. It was wetter, more swollen than ever. Her expression was hungry. Oh shit.

She grinned wider. "You couldn't possibly stop me," she growled.

Watching helplessly, lacking all volition, human-Sam saw his body change. He saw his hands grow, palms turning to black pads, nails thickening and lengthening into claws, creamy-soft fur pushing in all over the backs, and all over his arms, his chest.

He grew larger, though not as much larger as Jake had, or Alpha. He felt his legs changing shape, his tail pushing out. It surprised him how little the process hurt. It felt more like a deep, weird massage all over his body. If anything, the sensation only heightened his already-maddening arousal.

And then . . . the other changes. Things that hadn't happened to Jake. Breasts pushed in on Sam's chest, soft and round, creamy-furred with just barely-exposed pink nipples. His waist slimmed. His hips widened. His throbbing, hard cock . . .

Helpless to even whimper, Sam saw his cock shrink down to a tiny nub, almost disappearing beneath the fluffy, soft fur. His vulva was so swollen, now, so engorged with need, that even standing, staring down at himself, he could still see hints and contours, the glistening of lust along the edges.

He looked up to Jake . . .

No, [i]she[/i] looked up to Jake. [i]She[/i] had complete control now. Human-Sam only watched.

And Jake watched too, grinning. His semi-canine cock was hard and ready, a drop of precum forming as he reached down to stroke himself with one fingertip.

He'd known. He'd known where this was going, and he just hadn't cared.

Jake really would fuck anything. God [i]damn[/i] it.

"You are [i]gorgeous[/i], Sam," he said, shaking his canine head. "Holy [i]fuck[/i], you're hot. Let's have some fun, eh?"

Sam stepped toward Jake, eyes raking his body, one hand pinching her own sensitive nipple, the other sliding down to run searing, electric pleasure through the slick wetness between her legs.

No. [i]Fucking no![/i]

"You're trying to fucking [i]rape[/i] me!" human-Sam raged at the wolfwoman under the trees. "He's my [i]friend![/i] I don't[i] want this!"[/i]

Wolf-Sam rolled her eyes. "I can't rape you," she said. "I [i]am[/i] you. Just enjoy it. You can't do anything to stop me anyway."

With a strangled cry, human-Sam flung himself at her. He hit her hard across the jaw, in a move that seemed to surprise her, but that was all the luck he managed. She dodged his next strike, sidestepped behind him, and—using a move [i]he remembered[/i] from high school wrestling—she had him pinned on the ground before he could blink.

"You're too human," she said, "too controlled, hesitant, [i]tame[/i]. You will never beat me, especially not when we wear this form. This body is mine. Enjoy my pleasure and stop bothering me."

"No," said human-Sam, but even to his own ears he sounded pathetic, defeated, even whiny. "Please!"

"You disgust me," wolf-Sam growled. "I'm busy." She turned away. He was so little threat to her, she didn't even bother to keep him pinned.

Human-Sam curled around himself, feeling lost and worthless. "What about pregnancy?" he asked, "or disease?" His voice was thick, nauseous.

"Jake will have healed of the latter before it can affect me," she said. "Even if he somehow hasn't, I will heal it myself. Disease means nothing to me." She turned thoughtful then, staring off into the trees. "As for breeding . . ."

"I fear conception," Sam said, stopping just short of Jake's touch, "I am . . . not ready."

Jake laughed. "No worries, hotness," he promised. "Nobody's fertile in the 'between' form." He shrugged, grinning. "I'd never have locked us both in here otherwise."

Human-Sam sagged in ever deeper defeat. "What about Alpha?" he tried, grasping at straws. "Won't he be angry if you fuck someone else?"

Wolf-Sam laughed. "If Jake will not submit to his leadership, they may fight when they meet," she said, "but Jake chose this knowing I am claimed by a powerful male. He is stronger and braver than you, and free to take his own risks."

"I meant angry with [i]you[/i]," human-Sam persisted, though he worried for Jake now.

Wolf-Sam looked blank. "Why would he be?" she said. "Alpha will assume his rightful place when he arrives. I would always choose the strongest male."

Shocked into confused submission, human-Sam finally gave up.

Something was wrong here, terribly, weirdly wrong, but until he knew what and why, he couldn't do anything about it.

Trapped inside a body that did not feel like his own, Sam watched the night unfold in mute, helpless horror.

The wolf—he couldn't think of her as Sam, not right now, not while she forced him this way—rushed headlong into Jake's arms. Jake caught her, laughing . . . until she bit him, hard.

Jake yelped and jumped back, rubbing his arm. He didn't look hurt, and all Sam tasted was fur, but with a bite that hard Jake had to be a bit bruised at least.

Sam's wolf snorted dismissively. She glanced away from Jake, like he'd lost her interest.

Jake grinned his fangiest grin yet. "Oh, I can play rough," he growled. "I've just been with humans lately. Took me a minute."

Sam's wolf didn't look back, but she did perk one ear toward the other werewolf.

Jake launched himself at Sam, and he was strong and fast. Sam's wolf tried to dodge, but Jake caught her anyway, tackling her to the cushion- and fur-strewn floor. She fought back, biting and clawing, snarling as if—to Sam's ears—she really meant to harm. Her efforts only egged Jake on.

Trying to hurt him or no, Sam's wolf couldn't get another solid bite on Jake. Her jaws snapped at nothing but fur, and it didn't take Jake long to pin her clawed hands behind her. Damn, but Jake was strong. No human could be that strong. Sam's wolf struggled in the other werewolf's grip, and Sam screamed silently, terrified by the fangs and snarls, the sheer violence of the monsters' struggle.

This was "playing rough"? It felt to Sam like Jake sought to rape an unwilling female, and yet . . . Sam felt how bad this body wanted sex, how the wolf's cunt dripped and [i]ached[/i] to be filled. He felt how her heartbeat sped and her desire arched every time Jake deflected her strikes or blocked her attempts to wriggle free.

Sam didn't want this, but—hard as she fought—it seemed clear that his wolf [i]did[/i].

[i]Of course I do,[/i] came a voice from the forest in Sam's mind. [i]Don't be stupid.[/i]

Oh.

Jake wrestled Sam, growling and snapping, into his lap. Roughly, all at once, he impaled Sam's cunt on his hard cock.

Sam tried to yelp at the shock of it entering him, but he couldn't pretend it didn't feel amazing. Sam's wolf seemed to give herself one moment to revel in the pleasure, one moment to trick Jake into thinking her guard was down in her ecstasy, and then . . .

Sam's fangs sank deep into Jake's shoulder, and this time Sam tasted blood.

His wolf squirmed away from Jake's grip, rolling to her feet and dancing back across the room. Sam felt dizzy with shock. He was pissed at Jake for dragging him down here without telling him what would happen, but that didn't mean Sam wanted to see the man [i]bleed.[/i] What . . . ?

Sam's wolf spun to face Jake, who chuckled and leapt back up to a fighting crouch. He ignored his wound completely, and Sam had to admit it didn't look as bad as he'd thought. He remembered how fast he'd healed from Alpha's bite.

Maybe injuries like that just didn't mean much to werewolves.

Maybe this was still foreplay?

Jake's cock certainly remained hard. It throbbed, red and dripping, wet from Sam's juices now. Jake's eyes looked nothing but hungry.

"Did you think it would be that easy?" Sam's wolf snarled. "If you want me, prove you're strong enough!" Was that a playful tone beneath her defiance? Was she really just having fun?

Jake's laugh was low and dark, a primal sound, a wordless acceptance of a challenge. He flexed his claws. Sam panicked helplessly, trapped inside the wolfwoman's body. He strained to steel himself for another round of violence.

Jake charged again, and this time Sam realized he'd been holding back all along. Jake slammed Sam roughly into the brick wall. Ignoring Sam's claws as they gouged into his arms and back, Jake darted for his partner's throat.

Sam felt teeth sink into his flesh. He screamed silently, in mortal terror. Jake had them pinned, sharp, strong jaws positioned to crush Sam's larynx or worse. Had Sam been in charge of his own limbs he'd . . . well, he'd probably have wet himself.

It took him a moment to even notice that the fight had stopped. Both werewolves panted, frozen still. Sam's cunt dripped with need. Deep inside Sam's body, a hungry emptiness begged to be filled.

"I yield," Sam's wolf growled. Her voice was soft, but she sounded more thrilled than beaten.

Jake shoved her down onto her stomach, pinning her beneath him, but this time she didn't struggle away. She arched her back and lifted her tail, pressing her furred ass and dripping cunt back toward Jake's hard cock.

"You need it bad, don't you, girl?" he growled.

Wolf-Sam whimpered happily, pushing against him.

He chuckled. "Damn," he said. "Been too long since I fucked a 'wolf. Come here, gorgeous."

His cock slid easily into her, slipping home like a sword into its sheath. Sam had never felt anything like it, the fullness, the deep pleasure.

Jake groaned happily. He gripped her hip in one hand, her tail in the other, and thrust himself in deeper.

Sam's wolf leaned back to welcome Jake. She panted her pleasure.

Jake slid out again, and back in, finding a rhythm. Against Sam's will, his thighs flexed with each thrust, pounding back to meet Jake's cock with eager delight.

Every movement felt amazing. Every thrust felt like coming home, like the world being right for the very first time.

Sam's whole body felt too good to be believed. His wolf orgasmed quickly, spasming with bliss from head to toe, her vulva clamping down hard around Jake's cock, deep inside her.

"Shit," Jake gasped.

Sam felt Jake's knot swell inside him, felt the rough tug as Jake tried to keep thrusting and found himself caught, heard him moan as his thick cock pulsed inside his partner, spurting his hot seed up into her.

"That was fast," he chuckled, collapsing against her body, still trapped inside her cunt by his own knot. "Good thing we're werewolves, right?"

He stroked her ass and tail, and she wriggled gently beneath him, hungry for more.

"Let me just get this swelling down," Jake said, slowing his breathing. "Soon as I can get free, we'll start round two."

"Yes please," Sam's wolf gasped.

Sam wanted very much to believe he still objected, but . . .

Damn, that had felt good.

He lay there in the female, half-canine body that he didn't control, panting as she panted, writhing as she writhed, basking against his will in the aftermath of orgasm.

He felt her sweet, half-delighted disappointment, when Jake finally managed to work himself free. Sam's wolf rolled in the cushions to lie on her back and spread her legs for Jake, still kneeling above her.

The grey-brown wolf licked his lips, pale eyes gleaming hungrily. "I am not getting tired of this any time soon," he murmured. "God, you're fine."

Sam's wolf arched for him, toying with her own nipples, reaching out to grip his body with her furred, canine legs.

Jake held back, shaking his head. "Let's take this one a little slower," he said. "I want to taste your clit."

Sex as a woman.

Sam had heard it was difficult, delicate, often disappointing. He'd heard it was fantastic when you did it right, but that few boasted the proper skill. He'd been told he wasn't too bad himself at showing a girl a good time, but he'd never been 100% sure his girlfriend meant it.

Sam didn't know if Jake was a god among lovers, or if sharing a body with a bitch in heat just washed away the complications. Possibly both.

He did know, however, that sex as a woman felt fucking amazing. He wanted someone licking his clit for the rest of his life—except that being fucked deep and hard was even better, in a different way. He'd now experienced four distinct kinds of orgasms, and all of them were like nothing he'd ever felt as a man.

The first, when Jake had taken Sam from behind, was like being buried in an avalanche of solid bliss. The second, from Jake's long, strong, canine tongue, was like being electrocuted with pleasure, all the way to the fingertips. It felt so good that human-Sam almost enjoyed swallowing Jake's thick cum as he shot it down wolf-Sam's eager throat in their frenzied, moaning sixty-nine.

The third climax, with Jake deep inside Sam's cunt again, missionary style except that Jake kept one thumb firmly planted on Sam's clit, massaging while his tongue worked one nipple, was like spontaneous combustion of ecstasy, flames of it flickering painfully along Sam's limbs—the most glorious pain Sam could even imagine.

The last time, wrapped around each other on the shower floor, Jake's back to the tiled wall, and Sam's legs hugging him close as warm water cascaded over their fur, Sam's wolf engulfed Jake again and again, at her own pace. They kissed with mostly-canine lips and long, twining tongues, and she fucked him until they both came. That one was like drowning in heaven.

They knotted again that time, and clung together panting for a long, long while, until the shower started to run cold. Laughing, then, they separated and finished rinsing off.

"I'm glad you came to me, Sam," Jake said as he shut off the water. "Sex with humans, it's not the same." He shook his head. He sounded startled, almost moved. "Tonight has been wonderful."

[i]That has got to be a line[/i], Sam thought to himself. He wondered if he and Jake could ever be properly friends again, after all this.

From the forest in his mind, wolf-Sam answered, [i]A line?[/i] She sniffed. [i]His sincerity is irrelevant. He's useful to me only for his cock.[/i]

Once again, Sam reeled in shock.

His wolf seemed amused. [i]Your Jake is strong and fast,[/i] she admitted,[i] but I see now he's not truly dominant. I could defeat him if I were serious. He's not like Alpha.[/i]

Sam shivered.

What the hell had he gotten himself into.

[center]-To Be Continued-[/center]