Page 69 of The Lunatics

“I do,” he said. “And I’ve found that even while suppressing I’m… aware of things in a way I wasn’t before. I assumed that awareness came from my hyperfixation on you, but even in those brief moments we’ve been apart, my heightened senses have remained.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded. “Did you not anticipate this? Is sharing power through the bond abnormal?”

I racked my memory, searching for even the slightest hint of something like this, and came up empty. “I honestly don’t know. Hang on a second.”

We slowed to a walk, and I reached into my pocket for my phone. I dialed Mom. When she didn’t answer, I called Dad. It went to voicemail.

“They must have already shifted,” I said. “Don’t let me forget to ask them about this before we leave.”

“I won’t.”

“Are you stronger, too?”

“I’m not entirely sure. I haven’t had time to test it. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

“Layla?”

I sighed and started jogging again, waiting for him to join me before I answered. “I’m a little worried that if you freak out when we shift, it might not be as easy to manhandle you into submission as I thought.”

He craned his head around to stare at me. The sheer affront on his face was priceless. “Manhandle me into submission?”

“You’d rather I let you slaughter everything in the forest?”

He sniffed and faced forward again, his scent prickly. “I’m unpredictable, not rabid.”

The fact that he saidhewas unpredictable and notthe wolffelt like a huge step in the right direction.

“Where exactly are we going?” he asked.

“Getting tired? I can slow down for you.”

He gave me a long-suffering look. Teasing him was way too much fun.

“We’re headed deep into packland,” I said. “There’s a ridgeline that looks out over a valley. It’s one of my favorite places to howl, and it’s so far away that we shouldn’t run into anyone else out there.”

“If we do,” he said, hesitating a moment before continuing, “please don’t let me hurt anyone.”

“Don’t worry, I got you.”

A small flush of warmth came through the bond in response, paired with relief.

We fell silent and settled into the long, loping stride that our kind could maintain for hours. In wolf form, we ran down prey, overcoming them after their exhaustion took hold. That endurance extended to our human forms. Our breaths were deep andeven. Our pulses thrummed. Around us, the forest came alive with the sounds of its nocturnal residents.

I grabbed Michael’s shoulder and slowed him, pointing up. A soft sigh, almost like velvet, came from overhead, and an owl appeared out of the gloom, gliding past us as it searched for prey among the underbrush. Michael stared up at it with intense focus, moonlight sheering across eyes that had visibly lightened.

We ran on. A few minutes later, he turned his head to the right and took a deep pull through his nose. “Deer.”

The farther into the wilderness we ran, the more relaxed I became. It was hard to think about megalithic skyscrapers and the stink of sewers when trees towered overhead and the smell of my mate filled my nose. As I relaxed, so did Michael, and the tension we’d been carrying around with us eased from our shoulders and limbs. Our movements became lithe. We glided through the trees like ghosts. I could barely hear our footfalls on the path below.

We reached a familiar clearing not long after, and I slowed to a stop. Michael stopped just past me, head turning as he took in our surroundings. His chest rose and fell in an even rhythm, and not a drop of perspiration marked his forehead.

“Is this it?” he asked.

“Yeah.”