Ensnared

Chapter 5

There's nothing like a full-moon night. Seth loves the full-moon days too, those energized hours just before as he counts down the minutes to when he can shift, but it all changes once he can actually see the moon in the sky, wide and wild. If it's a wrestling night, the guys in the locker room laugh at his pent-up energy. "Sasha better watch out tonight!" they joke or, if Hunter and Vince aren't around, they'll say something more explicit. Seth's tried telling them that it's the other way around, but no one believes him and he supposes it doesn't really matter. Better they think he's off having an orgy than realize he's a werewolf.

Since there's an event the next day, the three of them booked their hotel rooms for an extra night; Sasha found rental cabins in their chosen part of the forest and, after a little bit of bribery, made sure none of the closest cabins would be occupied. Seth doesn't think that was really necessary since it's out of season, but it doesn't hurt to be careful. They always keep their wallets and go-bags in the vehicle—and the keys hidden nearby—in case they ever need to make a hasty getaway, but so far the night is looking promising. There was no sign of any human activity for the last ten minutes of their drive in the forest, and the local ranger didn't seem to recognize them at all. We all need a good long run, Seth thinks as he parks the SUV by the cabin.

"We're sure there aren't any wildlife cameras?" Becky asks as she hops out, tilting her head back to gaze up at the towering trees. "So many of the parks have nest cams and den cams now. . . ."

"You heard me ask the guy, Becks," Sasha replies, wrapping her arms around Becky from behind and kissing her neck. She asked under the guise of going on a wildlife walk, and the ranger said they would likely only see birds common to the region or perhaps hear a coyote. After kissing Becky again, she spins them both around and opens the door to their cabin. "First one to the lake picks where we have breakfast!" she crows, pulling her clothes off before she's even stepped inside. "Last one there pays!"

Seth glances at Becky, but she just shakes her head. Coming from a large werewolf family, she's used to the puppy-like exuberance that comes out at a full moon, but he still revels in it; it's one of the few things he and Becky share in the pack, one of the rare times she lets her guard down around him. They've talked about everything else, from embarrassing wrestling moments to break-ups to fitness tips, but as soon as the conversation turns to sex, Becky either gets quiet or changes the subject. When she notices Seth staring at her, she just shrugs. "It doesn't much matter to me where we eat," she says simply, peeling off her shirt. Sasha, now stripped to the skin, sprints past them, starting her shift as soon as she's outside. "As long as there's coffee, I'm good. If you have a preference, though," she adds with a grin, "you'd better hurry." She's not exactly taking her time and folding all her clothes, but it's clear she's not in a rush; she even takes a quick sip of water from the bottle they use to rinse off post-shift.

"Since I'm driving," Seth replies, "I'd better." It's a strange type of politeness, waiting until she's fully undressed before he leaves, but he does it out of habit now—for Sasha too, usually, when she hasn't put a dare into play. A naked woman in a forest is far more likely to encounter trouble than a man would be, so he waits until she's undressed and outside, crouching down to begin her transformation. Then he rushes through his own, wincing as his body breaks and rebuilds itself anew.

Once he's done, he pads over to Becky, who's taking her time. "I'm good. Go on. I'm surprised Sasha hasn't called us yet." Smiling, Becky strokes his ears while she still has hands to do so, then bows her head as she begins to shift in earnest.

Seth waits a moment more before tearing through the forest, running so fast his paws barely seem to hit the ground. Branches brush against his flank—strong ones bending, weaker ones snapping in his wake—and he's so focussed on the shimmer of water ahead that he doesn't notice the glint right in front of him until it's too late and it jerks him to an abrupt halt.

Seth! Becky's worried yip is almost drowned out by his painful howls and the sound of his thrashing, but he hears enough for it to pierce straight through to his heart. Moments later she's crashing through the underbrush, nose high as she sniffs for any potential threats or traps. Then she hurries over, placing her two front paws on his heaving body and gently clamping her mouth down over his. Stop. Though she makes no other sound, her message is clear, and she waits until Seth stops struggling to move back. Wait, she says with a short but firm bark.

When she crouches down, it takes Seth a moment to think past the pain and panic and realize what she's doing. To shift forms again so quickly is incredibly difficult, not to mention dreadfully painful—leaving a werewolf weakened and vulnerable—but there she is, her body quaking as she tries to revert to human form. Her body seems to jerk back and forth between wolf and woman, woman and wolf, sometimes caught in agonizing stages in between: a wolf with human arms, a human torso with lupine legs. Stop! The glinting thing around his neck is stealing his air, leaving his plea a mere whimper. Stop it, Becky!

With one final wrenching sob, Becky's in her human form again, sprawled on the forest floor and covered in smears of blood and some clear, sticky plasma. When she lurches to her feet, it reminds Seth of videos of newborn horses he saw in school, all bumbling angles and no balance. "Stop . . . moving." Those two words make her breath catch and Becky stumbles against the nearest tree, shaking uncontrollably. Then she clenches her eyes tight, balls her hands into fists as if trying to gather courage, and sucks in a deep breath. "SASHA!"

The effort makes her crash to her knees, and Becky crawls the rest of the way to where Seth's trapped. As soon as she has enough air, she screams Sasha's name again, almost collapsing against Seth's side. When he feels movement at his neck, Seth starts to squirm until Becky leans into him. Hurt, he whines. You'll hurt. She's trying to get her fingers under the snare—he finally figured out what it was—but if the cruel metal is hurting him, it will mangle her fragile human fingers.

She's not stopping, though, burrowing her hands into his blood-matted fur. "SASHA! COME BACK!" Tears are cascading down her cheeks now and she rubs her face against his to clear her eyes. "I'm sorry," she blubbers, shoulders quaking with cold and shock. "I'm sorry. I . . . I can't break it on my own. I don't have my strength back yet. I should have tried to bite it off or. . . ."

Seth tries to lick some of her tears away, making a sobbing laugh burst out of her mouth. Right now she'll be even weaker than a normal human, and she's still trying to loosen the snare. Stop now? There's too much pressure on his throat to form the sound for please, so he hopes gently butting his head against hers will convey the message.

But Becky just shakes her head, keeping her fingers between his ravaged neck and the snare. Her shaking is fuelled by adrenaline now as well, making her lungs stutter. "Don't struggle," she murmurs by his ear. "It'll make it tighten up." She's trying to stay as still as she can, but the shock and cold are getting the better of her. "SASHA! HE'S HURT!"

It's as close to a howl as Seth has ever heard from a human mouth and it wraps around his heart even tighter than the snare could, closing in every second. He's trying to think of the right combination of yips and howls to convey Go find her; I'll be okay. Part of him thinks he should revert to human form: his neck would be narrower and then he could use his hands to keep the snare from tightening any further.

Becky must sense his train of thought, because she shakes her head, curling up closer to his heaving side. "You can't turn back yet," she rasps. "It's not safe. You would move around too much during the shift and it would tighten—" She tenses a moment as his ears prick up. If it's anyone—or anything—other than Sasha, she'll have to let go of the snare and try to defend herself.

But Sasha's night-dark fur catches the moonlight as she rushes toward them, and Becky's shakes finally start to ebb. "You'll be okay," she whispers, kissing his head. "Sasha can help."

You help, Seth thinks as he watches Sasha try to hasten her return to human form without suffering the same discomfort Becky did. If Becky hadn't lingered and hesitated as always, he could still be struggling in the snare—or worse. Sasha's transformation isn't much more graceful than Becky's had been, but rather than listen to the crunch of bone and the agonized cries, Seth does his best to focus on the beat of Becky's heart. It's finally starting to slow but it's still tinged with the moon-silvered sweetness of the transformation and odd, tender lurch that feels far too familiar—and yet somehow alien for being outside his own chest.