Standing with his feet on the frozen ground, he called his wolf with little effort. The pain lasted only a few brief seconds. It ripped through him with the force of a bullet, tearing at his muscles and reshaping his bones before he stood on four paws and gave a full body shake, just to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be.

It always was but he still checked every time. Force of habit.

Walking up to the back door, he found the latch to unlock the gate, easily manipulated by a wolf’s paw, then slipped through into the kitchen.

As the panel swung shut with the barest hint of sound, he heard Grace gasp as she turned. Her gaze locked onto him immediately and he saw her scramble off the couch, nearly dropping the mug in her hand before she steadied it with her other.

He thought about shifting back, showing her who he was but when her eyes narrowed and her teeth bit into her bottom lip, he realized she knew it was him.

Then she confirmed it. “It’s a little late for visiting, isn’t it, Kaisie?”

Now there was the tone he wanted to hear in her voice, even if it was overlaid with the wet sound of the tears she’d been crying. That haughty, high-society drawl she used on him all the time. Nobody else, just him.

That tone did things to him…

He shook his head and walked around the couch, knowing she watched his every move. He didn’t smell fear on her. If he had, he would have shifted back into his skin and gotten his clothes.

But he wanted to stay in his pelt. He wanted…

Jumping up onto the couch, he laid on his stomach, paws out in front of him, staring up at Grace.

She watched his every move with narrowed eyes but her teeth worried her lip until he thought she might break the skin.

With a huff, she pushed that gorgeous red hair over her shoulder and sat back down on the opposite end of the couch, a sectional with a chaise. She stretched her legs along the chaise but she didn’t look at all comfortable.

“I don’t know what you’re doing here but I don’t want to fight with you. Not now.”

He didn’t want to fight either. And he didn’t want the entire width of a cushion to separate them.

Careful not to rip the fabric with his nails, he shimmied over onto that center cushion and pushed his snout against her leg.

She wore flannel pants that smelled like her. So damn soft against his nose. On top, a huge, old sweatshirt covered her from neck to thighs, faded and washed so many times, it felt like a baby’s blanket. That smelled like her too.

Hot, sweet woman.

He squashed the growl building in his throat. She probably wouldn’t understand that it wasn’t an angry sound.

Nudging her leg again, he heard her huff. “You’re pushy no matter what form you’re in, aren’t you? Do you want the entire couch?”

He shook his head then licked her nearest hand, clenched into a fist on her knee, and felt her shiver.

Her fingers straightened and flexed and she lifted her hand.

That was the opening he’d wanted. He laid his head where her hand had been, twisting his body onto his side and stretching out along the cushions.

For a full ten seconds, her hand hovered in the air over his body. He almost thought she was going to push him away.

Then her hand descended and her fingers settled onto his fur, gently, as if she were afraid she’d hurt him.

Or maybe she was afraid he’d snap at her.

He lay as still as possible, not wanting to spook her and after a few minutes, she started to run her hand along his fur.

No one but his daughter had ever petted him before. The sensation was strange. Nice but strange. Especially considering the feelings this woman riled in him.

Instead of the usual tension, his muscles relaxed and he huffed out a breath, which made her pause for a few seconds before she continued. They sat there in silence, the low drone from the television the only sound and the soft flicker of the screen the only light.

If he hadn’t been so acutely aware of where he was and with whom, he might have fallen asleep. As it was, he had no problem staying awake so he could enjoy the sensation of her hand stroking through his thick fur.

Tinia’s teat, if he’d known how fucking good this felt…

No, probably best not to go there. Because if he did, he might have to consider why he allowed her, of all people, to get this close.

After several minutes, he heard her sigh. “I keep wondering what he’s doing. Does he think I’ve abandoned him? What lies has Ettore been telling him? Does someone read him a story before bed? Do they tuck him in? Is he feeling better or is he still sick?”

Kaisie heard the agony in her voice, the fear. It hit him in another part of his body, dead center in his chest.

“I don’t know even know why Ettore took him. What’s changed? Alex wasn’t born Mal, not like—” She stopped to draw in a breath. “He didn’t want him when he was born. Why would he change his mind now?”

Since Kaisie had no answers for her, he remained quiet, sensing she just needed to vent. She continued to pet him with a light touch even though her tone had hardened.

“I’m not a violent person. I’ve made horrible mistakes. The men I hired when I first started to look for the right donor for Alex’s serum were animals. But I was desperate. I didn’t know they’d murdered my test subjects. I should have. I make no excuses. But my son was dying. I’d already lost my daughter and I couldn’t lose Alex.”

At the mention of her daughter, he turned his head to look at her.

Tears welled in her eyes, which he could barely see because she refused to look down at him. He heard a soul-deep pain in her voice that called to the man. Again, he felt the urge to shift and take her into his arms.

He wondered if she’d let him.

Probably not.

Probably safer to stay in his pelt.

Shit. When had he become such a fucking pussy?

Then again, discretion really was the better part of valor occasionally.

And sometimes the feel of a woman’s hand on your pelt was enough to make you stupid.

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