The Exchange

Chapter Three

A ferocious snarl erupts from the wolf on top of me. I whimper and bury my head into the ground, trying to hide from the terrifying noise. The snarl means Fletcher's really pissed. I'm completely screwed. I knew that going to the meeting would be a stupid idea. I guess I just didn't want Damon to get in any trouble. After all, he helped me when I needed it, I thought I should return the favor. I really can't do anything right. I mean, all I had to do was give someone a piece of paper. That's all. Yet, somehow, even I manage to screw that up.

Trying to hand someone a piece of paper is going to be the action that led to my demise. I guess I need to adjust the writing on my tombstone.

Now that I think about it, I should've written that down somewhere.

As the creature above me shifts his weight, my body immediately tenses up again. I spent the past thirty seconds trying to distract myself from the inevitable, but there's no more denying it. Fletcher is really going to kill me. The shifting of weight was probably him preparing to attack. I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for the first wave of pain that is about to come.

Only, it doesn't.

Fletcher hops off of me. He walks around from behind me, so that he is now he is standing just in front of my head. I can feel his warm breath on the back of my neck.

I feel his mouth, err, muzzle, nudging my head cautiously. A small whimper escapes him. The sound is filled with worry and concern.

Wait. Nothing about Fletcher is cautious. He does what he wants without a thought for the consequences. He is reckless, impulsive, and never, ever, shows care for anyone other than himself. It's these realizations that make my head snap up, my eyes wide with surprise.

My eyes first latch onto the massive paws in front of me. They're pitch black, and huge, far larger than even Fletcher's, who is the biggest wolf I know. My eyes trail up the animal's legs, taking in his enormous frame, cataloging every little detail. Like the thick, waviness of his fur, the white patch on his back left paw. . .a patch that I find insanely cute, for some weird reason.

He must have gotten impatient with my leisurely pace, because in the next moment his paw comes up and nudges my chin lightly, forcing my gaze to rise and meet his.

I gasp. His eyes are the most jaw dropping color of gold, with chocolate brown flecks in them. They stare at me intently, meeting my stare with an intense one of his own.

I should be scared. Scratch that, I should be terrified. After all that I've suffered at the hands of this. . .species, you would think I'd be instinctively petrified of them. Normally, I am.

But nothing, and I mean nothing, compares to the sense of security and love that this wolf's gaze fills me with. I want to run my hand through his fur, curious to see if it's as soft as it looks. I want to spend every moment of my life with him, from this point forward. And he smells so good. . .

The last thought strikes me like a slap in the face. Every mated couple I'd ever seen always gushes about how good their mate smells, and how their scent is the most haunting aroma to ever invade your nostrils. They say it's one of the main indicators that they're mates.

Oh, crap.

The pounding of feet, well, paws, interrupts our silent stare down. I immediately recognize Fletcher, Damon, and a few members of our pack (Funny how I say our pack, like I'm a part of it.), but the others are strangers. They all go behind the trees and shift into their human forms before coming back out again.

The instant I register Fletcher's presence, I begin backing away from him hastily. As a result, it also puts some space between me and the wolf who caught me. I feel an instantaneous loss of warmth, causing my steps to falter. With one look at Fletcher's face, however, my desire to leave returns full force.