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I’d paid him, blocked him everywhere, and vowed that I’d never date another shifter. I wasn’t built to deal with that level of intensity.

Like, I was just looking for a good time, and my standards weren’t high by any means, but Kevin and his chest-beating alpha werewolf bullshit had still managed to limbo right under them.

Werewolves might be great as friends and roommates—Dylan was a living, breathing example of that—but apparently they turned into massive dicks when they were in a relationship and their possessive streak came out. I decided I was never going to waste my time on one again. Now I stuck to my own species and went to one of the neighboring towns when I was looking for some action. It wasn’t ideal, but I made it work.

But I wasn’t going to tell Chelsea all of that. It wouldn’t do my business any good if people started thinking I was speciesist. So instead I said, “Between work and staying in shape, I don’t really have time to date. But hey, maybe the right man will come along and sweep me off my feet when I least expect it.”

Chelsea snorted and lobbed her empty Gatorade bottle into a nearby trash can. “Maybe.”

We walked over to the parking lot together, and as she waved and climbed into her car, I felt the sense of satisfaction I always got when I’d helped someone get their shift under control. Was werewolf coordination a weird thing to specialize in? Sure. But it was my weird thing, and I was damn good at it.

In fact, I was quietly confident that there wasn’t a werewolf alive I couldn’t fix.

CHAPTER 3

LUKE

When I opened my eyes, daylight was streaming through the open blinds, my head was thumping like someone was playing the bongos in there, and it felt like my mouth was filled with cotton.

Scratch that.

My mouth was filled with cotton.

What the fuck?

I sat up and spat out a chunk of cotton wadding, then blinked at the sight in front of me. My bedroom was covered in the shredded remains of my good pillows, and my coverlet was in tatters. I spat out a few stray fibers that were still caught on my lip and looked around to make sure I hadn’t done anything else stupid, like chewing the leg off the chair that lived in the corner of the bedroom. It was still intact, although the pile of half-clean clothing that normally rested there was scattered across the floor.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, and just for a second my vision wavered and I swore I saw paws instead of feet. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them it was just my regular human feet, although my brain flickered between the two for a second before deciding that the feet could stay. I stood, pausing as a wave of dizziness washed over me.

Apparently, coming into my shift had done a number on my balance, which shouldn’t have been surprising considering my whole body had changed shape—assuming I was a full shifter, that was. I sat back down on the bed and tried to remember, and slowly it started to come back to me.

Cal. Claws. Howling.

The moonlight washing over me, unlocking something that had lain dormant for the last twenty-seven years. And then…

Fuck.

I’d fucking frolicked.

The excitement of being able to shift had had me bouncing around the room, pulling at the bedding and gripping the pillows between my jaws before throwing them in the air. And when their cotton covering had ripped, I’d thought it was a display of my superior strength and proceeded to show them who was really boss, like an overgrown pup.

Some werewolves like my mom transformed into noble creatures who ran through the forest in their wolf form, all sleek lines and elegance. And some transformed into solid slabs of muscle and could take out a wall with a single punch—I’d worked with those guys in construction, and they were usually pretty beefy to begin with.

But me? Apparently, I transformed into the kind of wolf who fought with his bedding like a dumbass. Still, I couldn’t keep the smile off my face, because I finally could shift, after years of thinking I took after my very human dad.

Also, I’d totally won the fight against those pillows.

I grabbed my phone from the bedside table, still grinning, and checked the time. It was close to noon, so I didn’t hesitate to dial my mom’s number. Normally I texted her, but news like this deserved a call.

It took a few rings before she picked up. “Luke?” she asked, her voice rough with sleep.

“Mom? Guess what! I can shift! I’m a werewolf!”

There was a sharp intake of breath, and then, “Oh, Luke! Congratulations! What triggered your shift?”

Getting railed by a complete stranger who made me come so hard it altered my biochemistry.

Yeah, that came firmly under the heading of things my mom doesn’t need to hear.