Two days later
I walked in the quiet before sunrise with my chestnut horse. The ranch Marcus rented for us in rural Texas felt peaceful after the turmoil at the werewolf party. A light breeze blew by, carrying the distant sounds of howling animals. It made me feel free.
As the first rays of sunlight began to pierce the horizon, the howls tapered off into a hush, swallowed by the burgeoning day. I knew without seeing that Xavier and the others were close; their presence was a pulsing undercurrent beneath the serene surface of the ranch.
One by one, they emerged from the darkness, their forms shifting seamlessly from the wild elegance of their wolf bodies back to their human guise. My heart gave an involuntary leap as each greeted me, their voices laced with a rough edge from their night
