Shifting Life

32. Grab

Jacklyn watched the daylight flooding the room change color, becoming more golden. She listened to Matt's steady heartbeats, her ear sticking to his warm chest, golden fuzz tickling her nose.

She tried to ignore the knot of dread in her gut. She tried not to think about how killing the bear had been going with the flow. Almost easy. Instinct. In four days she had caused three deaths, the last one deliberate. The cut at the base of her index finger still stung. She'd known her blood was lethal when she plunged the knife into the bear. The shifter, she corrected herself. She'd known she'd kill him even if he killed her first.

Her human form still purred with sexual afterglow, but inside, horsey was itching to get out, stretch, go for a run.

The need to shift was building, becoming an ache.

She'd had a shifting routine. It wasn't much but it had kept her sane and safe. Pre-dawn, just as the night seemed at its darkest, she made her way down to Ocean Beach. The waves crashed, making a repetitive thunder roll up the beach. The hard wind blew straight through you. Even the homeless stayed away from the beach at that hour. Jacklyn undressed, putting all her clothes in a plastic bag with a long elastic. She hung it around her neck, the plastic bag dangling by her hip. Every night the cold was a shock, even the first time she'd come back in July. Her skin grew instant goosebumps, fingers and feet became stiff with cold and the icy merciless wind pulled at her hair and pressed tears from her eyes. Then she shifted and all the noisy human complaints faded with that first long stride. She galloped down the shoreline, taunting the crashing waves to get her, her hooves leaving deep marks in the wet sand. She neighed and shook her mighty head, mane and tail holding its own in the wind. The rush of running wild cursing in her blood like a fever.

Jacklyn felt the inevitable urge to shift at her center, like a tug to transform, the primal call to balance her forms.

She pulled away from Matt and rolled off the bed. She tried pacing. Jacklyn the human clawed to stay, but it was a battle against time and nature. Humans don't stand a chance with either.

Jacklyn felt the shift like a rip curl. She was caught in it, rolling from one form to another, carried by the momentum of the moment. It felt like her body turned into a tight, dark tunnel and she shot through, tearing up as she fell.

She came out the other side, shrugging and snorting.

The motel room had shrunk. She could barely turn around.

Matt opened his eyes. His mouth widened, showing a row of white teeth. He stretched, catlike. His eyes glittered like sun on soft waves and he wouldn't stop looking at her.

He made sounds. She felt feels of appreciation, of warmth.

She nodded. Likewise.

Matt got out of bed. More sounds. A question.

He rummaged through a bowl by a coffee machine. She watched his naked backside and walked closer. She brushed her muzzle over the soft skin of his neck and sniffed his armpit.

He smelled good.

She followed the curve of his back, playfully pushing her muzzle into his butt cheek. She snorted, he jumped.

Matt made sounds again, firmer but still warm.

Jacklyn liked his sounds, his voice.