City of Wolves: Alphas on Motorcycles

10 | Transform

Matthew

"Sorry," I say, trying to be nonchalant though my vision is spotting black with pain, mustering a final smirk. "It's been quite a few years since I've done this."

Celeste's knees are shaking, her eyes wide, a blade of sunlight cutting across her wobbling jaw and the quivering dimples on her chin. She is trying to be brave, trying not to show her fear and her shock, but she has to lean against the grill of the car in order to prevent herself from collapsing. She gives a small nod to reassure me she isn't going to bolt. I can close the gap between us pretty quick once I've shifted, much faster than I am in human form.

It's agonizing—the more one shifts the less painful it becomes, but I have not overcome those growing pains yet so it feels every bit like my body is breaking and rearranging itself against all the laws of science. The sounds are terrible but incomparable to how terrible the process of shifting feels. My skin growing fur all over my body is like having gasoline poured on me and being set on fire. At some point my groans become growls. I feel like I am fighting death.

When I am fully transformed into my wolf I feel no pain, the agony dissipating instantly. Everything is so much sharper—all five senses enhanced, picking up on the most innocuous of details. I do not have any enhanced senses in human form, but as a wolf that can shift on command I am a valuable weapon. If Lycan authorities knew what I am capable they would either kill me for being too much of a threat to the regime or they would exploit my assets at a cost to my person. They know I am not on their side. I am in a league of my own but I side with the humans and lower-echelon werewolves because I have been viewed and treated as one of them my whole life. I think like them, therefore I am them.

Celeste is the only person who has seen this side of me—not even my parents have any knowledge that this side of me exists. When I am fully shifted, walking towards her, reminding myself of a fawn attempting to walk across ice, she manages to stand up straight without having to use the car to support her weight. She thinks I resent her because she isn't brave but in many ways she is one of the bravest people I have ever met. I resent myself for having kept this secret from her but now I can unfetter myself from this burden...that means, however, that I am necessarily sharing some of it with her. I hope she can handle it.

She extends her hand, a few paces from the car, and stops. It is up to me to close the gap. In this form I am just below her chest which obviously freaks her out. I'm an even six feet as a human but that's different. Now I have four legs, yellow eyes, and am covered in near-black colored fur. I am a beast—this is what I have been sheltering her from. I keep my head bowed as I approach her, exhaling when my head and her hand make contact. I feel the way it trembles through my fur.

"I hate to admit it," she says, voice trembling as much as her hand. When I glance up at her, her eyes have teared up. The sunlight makes her usual chestnut eyes look like pools of honey, appearing more mesmerizing than usual. "But I am kind of jealous. Not being able to shift keeps me humble but I like to think I'd be humble all the same if I could shift."

I am shocked at her confession and sit. She pets my head soothingly. I am reminded of all the times we've sat on the couch together, my head in her lap as she played with my hair, and we just gabbed about all things shallow and deep. This has never come up, however. It's my first time hearing this. She comes from a line of werewolves that can shift—she is the first in her family that can't. Her gift is the only thing that affords her the upper end of her lower end status. I can understand how she must feel cheated.

"Even your fur has some curl, especially under your neck," she laughs, blinking away the tears, no longer willing to be vulnerable about something that must feel as controversial to say as it does to hear. I think she's perfect the way she is but I understand where she feels she has a shortcoming. "To be fair, that looks excruciating. Maybe it's for the best that I can't shift. We both know I don't have a high pain tolerance. You are an intimidating creature, however."

Celeste furrows her brows. It's getting brighter and brighter outside, the sunlight rising from behind her, casting her in a golden light that makes her look angelic with her blonde hair. Dumb blonde jokes still exist all these centuries later but Celeste is no dummy. She is smart. She is open-minded. She is observant. She is brave. I regret not having expressed that to her more. I know she risks her life at work every day.

"Matthew," she says candidly. "I can't believe you were able to hide this from me all these years. I want to be angry but I understand—this goes beyond explanation. It's beyond the realm of comprehension. You come from a long line of humans. You...you are someone they would study in science and medical textbooks if they ever caught whiff of you. That girl you loved before you met me...she was your mate, wasn't she? Your mate was the girl that died?"

I dip my head in response. Celeste curls her fingers around my ear and down my snout then pulls away entirely. Her eyes are watering uncontrollably now. It's time for me to shift back so we can have a conversation about what's just transpired. She believes me now. The proof doesn't get more tangible than this. I step away, emitting a low bark, tossing my head to the side. Implicitly she understands what I mean and turns around, unable to view the process, burying her face in her hands. I hope this doesn't cast further doubt on how she thinks I feel toward her. I truly, truly love her.

I shift back, the pain just as agonizing and breathtaking as before. My vision spots with black, I can't prevent the noises that drain from deep within my throat, and I remind myself that shifting is a choice and, if I can help it, I will not be doing it again for a long time. Next time it will only be marginally less painful; it will be dozens of shifts before it becomes bearable. Then again, if I shift fast, the pain lasts only a second...I hope not to be put in a situation where I have to shift in the blink of an eye. I trust Celeste to keep this secret but not anyone else.

When I am fully shifted, back in human form, Celeste is running up to me with wide eyes. My ears are ringing and my vision is blurry so I can't comprehend her urgency right away. She is whisper-yelling something to me, one hand shoving my clothes into my chest as the other grips the back of my neck and gently slaps the back of my head. Gradually, serially, my senses come back to me. It's so much easier to shift into a wolf than to shift back to being a human—less disorienting somehow. It' like being inebriated.

I'm able to decode her garbled message: "Motorcycle. Lycan. Maybe seven minutes away. Blocked in."

It was easily a twenty-minute drive to get here once we turned onto the gravel road, meaning that they are already on the road straight toward us. Celeste is right. We are blocked in. Slowly, fluidly, I take my clothes from her. By the time my shirt is on I am coherent and ready for action. I have a story made up, I know exactly how to get rid of whoever is coming. This will be smooth. Celeste has nothing to worry about. I am an engineer with a history here. I have an excuse to be here.

I tell her to get in the car while I wait outside. This will be quick. Less than five minutes now.