Shadows (Book 2 of the Zara's Wolf Trilogy) BWWM

1. Too Slow

They slip over silently, unsuspected of the truths they carry. The truth can be painful, too brutal to face. Especially if it is merely a remnant of the past.

It's sneaking up on me.

A twig snaps and I whirl around, my dreadlocks smacking me in the face.

Despite the thick growth of the forest, small streams of sunlight still manage to filter down to the forest floor. Swarms of insects hover in small droves, dancing in the warm rays.

My heart pounds like a jackhammer as my dark brown eyes flit from one leafy fern to the next. In the last couple of weeks, their once lush green leaves have deteriorated to a burnt yellow that rustles like sandpaper in the slight breeze.

He's out there somewhere. I can almost feel him.

I strain my ears for the slightest movement-the crunch of dry leaves, the snap of a twig, the scrape of pebbles-anything to signal his whereabouts. His hulking size should give him away at some point, right? It should be easy. No way he can move silently through the forest like a shadow.

I inhale a slow and shaky breath in an attempt to clear my mind and slow the racing of my heart.

Focus Zara.

My breath catches at another crack of twigs in the other direction.

What the-?

Before I can react, he's here. Leaping out from behind a tree, his huge mouth open in a snarl, he pins me down to the ground. Pain shoots up my left elbow as it slams into a gnarled root. Hissing in pain, I thrash about. Kicking him off, he lands easily on his feet and lunges for me again, baring his long pointed canines. I can't get to my feet fast enough and he barks sharply at me.

I know exactly what he's saying without any translation, and I cringe.

Too slow!

Realizing that I've been holding my breath, I let it out slowly and sink down to the ground.

"Sorry, sorry," I grumble, hanging my head. "Should we start over again?"

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I close my eyes to try and get myself together.

The blond and white wolf with streaks of brown down his back huffs and shakes himself before slipping back into the ferns. The sound of bones grinding together and the short groan of pain cause me to cringe even more.

It still makes me shudder. I can't help it. It's like nails on a chalkboard. Hearing it over and over isn't going to make it any less spine-tingling.

"No," comes the gravely reply. He sighs. "I guess that will do it for sensory training today."

Breathing a sigh of relief, I open my eyes and stare up at the treetops overhead. Crimson and gold leaves sway lightly in the breeze. A slight chill runs down my spine as the mid-September air nips at my nape. I twist my arm to examine the scrape on my elbow. A few light scratches is nothing, but I can already feel the bruise beginning to swell.

Great.

Keith's blond head appears over me, looking down at me from six feet up with his hazel-brown eyes. "That doesn't mean we're finished here."

I groan like a child as he reaches down to clasp my right hand and haul me to my feet. He's wearing only a pair of black cargo shorts and I try not to stare at his large broad chest as his muscles ripple, stretching and solidifying into his human form. To the untrained eye, it looks like worms crawling under his skin.

He drops my hand as I gain my balance and dust the dirt from my hands and yoga pants. "Rick said to get you in shape, and that's what we're going to do."

Why can't my life as a wolf shape-shifter be as cool as it looks on TV?

This bites.