Within an hour, we're all outside the cabin, ready to head into town.

Even here, it's hard to control my senses. I can smell Leyla and Thomas—their smells mixing together, soap, grass and minty toothpaste. I can smell the forest nearby, the animals within it.

Somewhere in the distance, I can smell a hint of gas. We must be closer to the diner than I thought.

It's hard to concentrate on what Leyla and Thomas are saying. My mind is too busy jumping from one scent to another. I squeeze my eyes shut and shake my head hard, as if that'll get it out of my system.

Blake comes out last, a lumpy backpack slung over his shoulder.

"What's that for?" I ask.

"Clothes," he replies, dropping the bag onto the grass in front of us. "We can't exactly go into town naked, can we?"

I snort. That would be a sight.

"Let's go, then!" Thomas hollers. He cracks his neck, and, in an instant, his wolf-form appears.

He bares his teeth at us and yips loudly. I imagine he's saying something like, hurry up.

"You're riding on my back," Blake tells me, before turning towards Leyla. "Are you sure you're okay to shift?"

Leyla nods, determined. "I'll keep up. Don't worry."

Blake lifts a brow at her but moves on. Like Thomas, he rolls his shoulders, his eyes falling shut, before he shifts into a wolf.

Standing next to him, I'm reminded of just how big Blake's wolf-form is. Wolves on TV always looked more like large huskies, but here, in person, he's closer to the size of a bear.

I frown. How on earth am I supposed to climb onto his back?

As if reading my mind, he moves closer and almost kneels down, bending his head in a low bow.

"Well," I mutter to myself. "Here I go."

I start by grabbing the fur around his neck. It's just like touching him when he's human. A pleasant burning erupts in my chest, that same exhilarating feeling.

I ignore it, only tightening my grip and attempting to swing a leg over his side. With my movement, Blake dips lower and practically scoops me up, onto his back.

I scream as I'm thrown into the air. My grip on his fur tightens and I pull my chest close to his back.

Blake is still for a moment before he cranes his neck, his eyes meeting my own. He makes a low whine, as if asking if I'm okay.

I nod, releasing a long breath. "I think I've got it."

I squeeze my thighs tight around his sides and push myself upright. It's like riding a horse, but so much worse.

Beside us, Leyla has shifted into her wolf-form too. She was right. Her wolf-form is much smaller than the other two. Blake's huge form dwarfs her and, if I hadn't known better, I would have guessed she was a cub.

Her fur is much darker than the others too, almost black, like her hair color in her human-form. She slinks towards us and yips something at Blake.

Slowly, Blake pulls himself up to a stand and my head sways with the movement. The ground seems so far from up here. My grip tightens.

Standing upright, he barks something to the others, then leans down to grab the backpack between his jaws. Holding it there, he takes off, sprinting towards the woods.

I gasp, ducking my head close to his fur coat, like a jockey on a racehorse. Wind flows over my head, whipping my hair back. We're going so fast; I think the wind might whip me off his back.

The way he weaves through the trees is like an art form, with Thomas close behind and Leyla a few steps back.

His head shifts as he glances over his shoulder, checking on me every few meters. I only press my face down between his shoulder blades, praying we get there faster.

In his wolf-form, he smells a little different. A little earthier. A little wilder. Something in my instincts makes me push my nose deeper into his fur.

When Blake finally slows, I let out a shaky breath of relief.

He paces between the trees, then stops. Slowly, he leans down again, bringing me closer to the ground.

"Finally," I murmur, sliding off the side of his back. I hit the forest floor with a grunt and let myself sit there for a moment, relishing the sweet ground.

Blake whines, looking at me, and I lift a hand.

"Just—give me a moment," I say.

"God, it's windy today!" Thomas says. I blink, realizing he's shifted back into his human form. I squeak, catching his naked body.

Growling, Blake steps in front of me, blocking him from my view.

"Oh, shut it. I'm just getting the clothes," Thomas says. I spot his hand reaching for the backpack before his footsteps lead away.

"You should change too," I tell Blake. I cover my eyes with my hands. "I won't look."

"Like he cares!" Thomas hollers from behind a tree.

Blake growls again. He leans forward and I feel his snout bump the backs of my hands. His breath is hot there. Even with a touch as small as this, I feel our bond flare to life, along with every nerve in my body.

How am I supposed to get used to this?

Then he turns and that link is lost. There's a whoosh of wind. Footsteps hit the ground. I sit there, listening to the shuffling of feet, the zipping of trousers.

It's strange how normal this has become to me—shifting between human and wolf. Just a few days ago, I didn't even know werewolves existed.

And in a few weeks, it'll be me doing it too.

If I survive.

"You can look now," Leyla says. I pull my hands away to find everyone, thankfully, fully dressed.

"Alright. Clover, you're with me," Blake says, adjusting the collar of his t-shirt. "You two, only get what's on the list. Meet in ten minutes."

Leyla frowns down at what I assume is the list, while Thomas doesn't even bother glancing at the paper in her hands.

"Got it, boss," Thomas says, slinging the backpack over his shoulder.

Blake narrows his eyes at him but moves swiftly on. "Let's get moving. I don't want to spend long here."

The path to town is a twisting one through the woods, but I can see how the ground has worn away where we step.

I don't miss the way Blake sticks close to me, the way he slows his stride to match mine. I think nothing of it, until we finally pass the barrier of trees.

The smell hits me immediately. Pastries, fresh bread, pie, roasted vegetables—I don't realize I've started walking away until Blake grabs my hand. His hold on me helps a little, like wrangling the wolf-side of me in.

"Pull yourself together," he snaps.

"It's not me, it's—" I pause.

"Your wolf?" Blake fills in for me. I warm because that's exactly what I was going to say.

He was right. I'm just like a toddler, unable to control any of my urges. If the wolf is hungry, the wolf is going to eat. And it seems like she's always hungry.

"Maybe," I mutter.

The forest path quickly turns into real pavement, and buildings come into view. It's a small town in the middle of nowhere, but it's busy. Shops line the street and people flow in and out of them.

It's like torture.

I can smell every shop, every person, all mixing together into the biggest headache I've ever had.

And there's so many people. More than I would have expected for a little town in the woods. Suddenly, worry spikes in me.

The last time I was around people like this, one of Bianca's men had found me and almost killed me. The scar on my chest aches with the memory.

Subconsciously, I step closer to Blake. There's no way Bianca could have tracked me here, even with her new husband's money.

I look away from the bustle of people, trying to untangle the scents. It doesn't take me very long.

I land on one scent in particular—flowers. Not just any flower, but peonies.

My heart aches at the familiar smell and my instincts tug me towards it, but I stand firm. This wolf-side may be different, but it's still me, I realize. It still wants the same things as the human-side of me, just...magnified.

So magnified, that it's hard to control.

I try to ground myself, focusing on Blake's hand in mine.

"We're headed this way," Leyla says, turning right down the path.

Blake nods. "Remember, the list."

"Don't worry about it," Thomas says, though his smile isn't very comforting.

"I don't know why I trust him," Blake murmurs, shaking his head. He huffs, then turns to the left, my hand still tight in his. "Let's go. We just have two stores on our list."

"What's our first stop?" I ask.

If he answers, I don't notice it. I'm too distracted by the smell of flowers growing stronger, until my eyes land on a small florist.

I step towards it, but Blake's grip on my hand is firm.

"Clover," he warns.

I pout. "Come on, Blake. It smells so good. Can't we just take a look?"

He narrows his eyes at me, and my pout deepens.

"You should be learning how to control yourself, not giving in to what your wolf-side wants," he scolds.

"But it really wants to look," I say. His stare turns icier. I only bat my lashes at him. His expression softens slightly.

He hesitates, looking around us. A few people glance in our direction. I get it. It's a small town and newcomers are probably rare, not to mention Blake's the kind of guy who demands attention.

He looks back at my pout, conflict flashing in his eyes, before he sighs.

"Fine," he says. "Just a look. We can't take too long; else someone starts looking at us too closely."

"What do you mean? I'm a perfectly normal"—I lower my voice—"human."

"Yeah, who can't control her need to run after every nice little scent she picks up," he mutters. I ignore him, beaming as I tug him over towards the flower shop.

I have to admit, I like having his hand in mine. It seems to keep everything at bay—the ache in my muscles, the overwhelmingness of all the smells.

I squeeze his fingers as we approach the display of flowers spread in front of the store. Instantly, the smell of flowers floods me. Roses, lilies, lavender.

My eyes find the peonies, spilling from a black bucket. I step towards it and Blake follows me, refusing to let go of my hand. His hand still gripped in mine, I kneel down and breathe in until all I can smell is peonies.

"Hello!" a woman greets. She's an older woman with graying hair and a green apron. She pats her hands down and smiles widely at us. "How can I help you two?"

"Just looking," Blake answers all gruff and unfriendly.

I roll my eyes at him and offer the woman a smile. "Your flowers are beautiful."

"Oh, thank you!" she chirps. "The peonies are very popular."

I turn away from her, looking down at the pale pink flowers. "They were my mother's favorite. She always filled the house with them."

It's one of my few memories with my mother. She used to grow peonies in our garden. We'd spend weekends together, crouched in the dirt, her dark hair pulled back with a scarf.

I did my best to take care of it after she died. Until Bianca moved in, and she dug the garden out to put outdoor furniture there.

"How lovely," the woman says.

I look back at her, nodding, and stand. "Well, thank you."

Before I can move to leave, Blake interrupts.

"We'll take the whole bucket," he says.

Both the florist and I blink at him, speechless. Did I just hallucinate that?

"Blake," I mutter, tugging on his hand.

He ignores me, lifting his chin at the woman. "Can you...bag it up for us?"

The woman laughs unsurely. "Are you sure? The whole bucket? That'll be at least two dozen flowers."

He nods once. "I'll pay by card."

The cashier stares at him for a moment longer, as if trying to figure out if he's being serious or not. His expression stays firm, and she kneels, picking up the bucket of peonies.

"Blake, what are you doing?" I whisper while she's distracted.

"We could use some flowers at home," he says.

I pause. Home. Something inside of me stirs at his use of the word.

It's not just a cabin anymore. It's home.

It's been a long time since I felt at home anywhere. After my mom died, home didn't feel the same anymore, but after Bianca married my dad, it no longer felt like home at all.

Is this what it feels like? Having a home?

"Please come again!" the cashier chirps.

I look up, realizing he's already paid and accepted the bouquet bursting with peonies—all somehow without releasing my hand.

I don't even want to think about how much it must have cost him. Probably more than I even took with me when I went on the run.

It's a funny sight—Blake, all muscles and attitude, holding this huge bouquet of flowers. His bicep bulges under the weight of the flowers. I can't help it when a laugh explodes from my lips.

"What?" he murmurs, frowning.

"Nothing," I say, though my lips still twitch at the sight.

His expression sours, but he still pushes the door open with one shoulder, stepping to the side to hold it open for me.

"You don't have to hold onto me like some sort of leash," I point out, lifting our joined hands.

I swear his cheeks tint pink as he lets me go. His hand slips out from mine, and I instantly regret my words.

All at once, the smells grow stronger, my muscles turn tender, even my head has a dull ache. I feel like an addict going through withdrawals.

Soon I'll start shaking until he holds my hand again.

"What happened to just the list?"

We both turn to find Leyla and Thomas marching towards us, plastic bag in hand.

"These were on the list," I tease.

She laughs, shaking her head and sends a suspicious look in Blake's direction. "Sure, it was."

"You're done already?" I ask, glancing down at their shopping.

"It wasn't much. We split up." She lifts the bag, showing off the vegetables inside. "Fresh fruit and veggies, secured. Are you guys done?"

"We just have two more stores to hit," I reply, smiling.

"Two more stores?" Leyla asks, arching a brow.

"Yep," I say. "Only two more."

"Well," Thomas chirps, stepping closer, "the more the merrier. Where to?"

"Is it?" Blake murmurs, simmering before turning and leading the way. I fall in step with him as we walk down the cobblestone path.

It's a cute town, like something out of a fairytale. I imagine this is where Little Red Riding would live, just down the street from the big bad wolf.

The problem is, there's so many stores, my nose keeps alerting me to every scent we pass. The local café. Candles in a boutique. The bakery. A little burger shop—probably where Blake bought dinner last night.

It takes all my concentration not to go off track.

I glance at the werewolves walking around me. How are they ignoring it all? I feel like a dog at the park. It's only a matter of minutes before I go chasing after some scent, barking squirrel.

My knuckles brush Blake's and I look up at him. His eyes are on me, his brows furrowed in worry. I try to smile reassuringly, but I can't even do that.

My mind is being attacked on all fronts. All my energy is being devoted to acting normal.

Slowly, his fingers wrap around mine, and we're holding hands again.

"You look a little crazy," he mutters to me.

I frown. I probably do, glancing in every direction whenever a new smell hits me, my fingers balled into tight fists by my side.

His long fingers rub the back of my hand, just barely. I try not to cry in relief when my mind lulls and I can finally focus on one thought at a time again.

"Relax," he murmurs.

I blush, looking away. I'm not going to say no. It seems like this is exactly where my hand belongs.

It turns out the only two stores we have to visit are right next to each other—the drug store and the home improvement.

Blake spends the whole trip with our hands clasped together.

This time, I say nothing.

If Blake's touch is going to distract my wolf-side, then I'll take as much of him as I can get.

The supplies he buys are a mystery to me. Bandages, disinfectant, cough medicine, nails, duct tape—a myriad of what seems like random items.

Blake catches me eyeing the bag from the drug store and says, "Just to be safe."

His words ring out to me. Bandages, just to be safe? "For who to be safe? The pack? Or me?"

He looks at me, catching the unspoken words. The full moon. The bandages. Will I be needing them in three weeks?

He shakes his head. "The pack. Sometimes people get injured on hunts. The pack doctor is low on supplies. That's all."

I purse my lips and nod. I'm sure he's telling the truth, but now that I've thought about it, I can't get it out of my head.

"You'll get through it," Leyla says. She smiles at me and nods once. "Okay? Three weeks is plenty of time."

I mirror her smile, though it's not very convincing. "Alright."

Three weeks, plenty of time? I can only hope she's right.

The path through the forest is easy to follow. When the trees are thick enough that we can't be seen, Blake pauses. He glances around, sniffing the air.

"We're clear," he announces. "Tie the bags together. Leyla, you'll ride on Thomas' back."

She nods, though I see the disappointment on her face. Nevertheless, they get to work, tying the grocery bags to the backpack. Thomas shifts quickly and Leyla climbs onto his back.

It's easy for her, even with the bags on her back throwing her weight off. It's like she's done this a million times before. When Thomas moves forward, Leyla barely moves, sitting upright, one hand clasping the fur on his neck.

And then, impossibly, Blake passes her the bouquet of flowers. She grips it with one hand, her balance not shifting the slightest despite carrying everything we bought today.

I turn to Blake. His face scrunches as he slowly removes his hand from mine, almost like it's painful for him. He catches me watching and steels his expression.

"It's difficult," he says, "after being near you for so long." He pauses and I think for a moment he might say more, but he only shakes his head and looks away. "Let's go."

His words stick with me for the rest of the ride back to the cabin—back home—until my fingers are numb from gripping the fur of his mane.