"You're being very generous about this," said Florence, marveling at how the city flashed past them. "I took your entire night and now some of your morning as well."

Tobias remained focused on the road, hand relaxed and sure on the steering wheel. "Don't worry about it. My time is your time."

The response rolled off his tongue a touch too neatly, as though he spoke it quite often. A professional line to put his client at ease. It sobered some of Florence's excitement. Yes, he likely did have a lot of time to give her; Louise would have paid for more than one day. Her cousin was extravagant in every way, including with gifts. And she certainly would have acted much more nonchalant about the situation.

Yet as soon as Florence lapsed into silence, he added, "Enjoying the drive?"

Her attempt at a crisp demeanor flared back into enthusiasm. "Yes. Cars are so fast now. We must be going at least thirty miles an hour."

"Forty-five."

"Goodness."

Her unfeigned surprise drew his attention. "When's the last time you were in one of these?"

"At least sixteen years ago."

"That long?"

"I wouldn't have been older than thirteen at the time, so yes." The sight of the ocean glittering beyond a golf course distracted her before she remembered he had no way of knowing how long she had lived with her affliction. Her social graces had rusted terribly, especially with conversations. Nothing changed at home, so very little had to be explained.

"You see, life all but stopped when my madness began. I suppose it's more apt to call it a curse since there must be magic involved, but Francine doesn't like that term. She prefers 'affliction,' which sounds less primitive. There's so much more to explain. Where should I start?"

"Wherever you think the beginning is."

She watched the wisps of fog slip past the distant dome of the Telladay Conservatory while trying to put her memories in order. "I suppose that would be the final time I went on an archeological dig with Father. At least, it's our best guess that the trip is somehow the root of my transformation, as Father and I spent six months living near the wolf packs of the far north."

His voice sharpened with satisfaction. "I thought your last name sounded familiar. Wheeler. Your father was Simon Wheeler, wasn't he? The famous explorer trying to find the origin of shapeshifting wolves. Their first territories."

"Yes, that's right. There was a terrible rivalry taking place between Crescent City and New Obsidian over it. Two archeologists from Obsidian were intent on making the discovery first. It would have been such an embarrassment to 'The City of Wolves' if some other city-state found the ancestors of the packs living here today. If people who had never so much as seen a wolf dug up the very birthplace of wolfkind."

"I remember. It was in all the newspapers. Your father won."

"Yes. Because of that dig, he also provided strong evidence that some wolves learned how to transform into human bodies and not the other way around. Many researchers before him felt the Ulflands were the likeliest motherland of shapeshifting magic, but no one knew quite where to look. It's a massive continent, much of it ice. Yet Father's calculations and research into written accounts from ancient historians led him to success. And he also was savvy enough to ask local wolves for their knowledge and help." She smiled softly, remembering those she had become friends with.

It brought out a smile of his own. "You weren't afraid of wolves even back then, were you?"

"No. I loved the whole experience. We spent most of our time with the Blackridge Pack. We stayed there throughout the spring and summer months to have the best weather possible, but the climate was still shockingly different. Without their help, I doubt my father's expedition would have survived, much less succeeded."

Then Florence bit her lip, remembering some of the conversations after her first change. Her mother's hysterical voice. The crust of blood wedged beneath her fingernails. Her father wiping his spectacles with trembling hands while Francine screamed at him for ever exploring the Ulflands. "It couldn't have been the pack that caused my curse. I refuse to believe it. They were too good to me—and also too aggressive to torment anyone in such a backhanded way. It had to have been something at the site of the ruins. It's the only other way I could have come into contact with shapeshifting magic."

"What did you dig up?"

"Plenty of things. The ruins were about 5,000 years old and still showed signs of a robust culture. There were broken walls that we mapped out into buildings, statues that seemed aligned with certain stars, and various artifacts. Tools, carvings, weapons. Father let me work as though I were an adult, trusting me to take the proper care if I found anything, so I was quite involved. I might have disturbed something and unleashed its magic, but even that makes little sense. If it was an ancient curse, why was I home for three months before changing beneath the full moon for the first time?" The more she explained things, the less likely it seemed that she had enough information for Tobias to help.

Yet he looked thoughtful, not pessimistic. "How many artifacts did you find on your own?"

"Several buttons made of bone, a needle, and three carved figurines. They were all crusted in dirt and needed to be cleaned by someone with much more experience. One had even broken while unearthing it, and I cried over ruining such an old thing until Father explained that plenty of artifacts were excavated in pieces and repaired by professional restorers. Oh, and we did find some murals that were well-preserved. The clearest was that of a figure hunting among trees. It had the head of a wolf but the body of a man. The tongue lolled out of its mouth past massive teeth. I've wondered about its significance over the years, yet the appearance is nothing like what I turn into. I've seen the sketches made of me, and if nothing else, I'm very... blended in form."

Tobias nodded. "From how you describe it, the painting resembles old berserker legends some city packs have. Wolves that didn't look or act normal unless they hid in human form."

"Is that what I could be?" Her mouth grew dry at the possibility of learning the reason behind her transformations.

"I wouldn't bet on it," he said, looking as skeptical as he sounded. "They had the ability to shift from birth. There are a few tales about some tearing themselves out of their mothers. They did go mad whenever they changed into their monstrous form, but I haven't heard of any that were tied to the moon."

Her shoulders sagged again, but she kept quiet as the sick pit of worry, of not knowing, opened back up in her chest.

Tobias noticed. "It's all right. We'll figure this out."

"Yes. At the very least, I have a better chance now than ever before." She locked her hands together to keep from fidgeting. She had been so thrilled to leave with him that she had forgotten to bring gloves, and her fingernails now dug into the soft skin of her palms in an effort to stay still.

His voice warmed. "Here."

She looked over, confused as he used his teeth to take one of his gloves off, gaze still on the road. Then his bare hand reached for hers. After a moment's hesitation, she clasped it, aware of how much larger and stronger his fingers felt against hers.

"You're trembling."

"Yes. I'm always sore after a full moon. Sometimes, my body feels so tired I can't stop shaking."

He made a noise in the back of his throat, something more thoughtful than a growl, and began rubbing at the stiffest joints in her hands for the rest of the drive. She remained as quiet as he, heart fast and hot in her chest even as her fingers relaxed.

They parked at an impressive building made of bronze and white marble that rose ten stories high. WHITE IVY CIRCLE glimmered on its front in thin, black letters, and, indeed, thick ivy covered the pergola that shaded the front entrance. No doorman waited in sight, but the interior proved just as grand, with black and white tiles set in diamond patterns all the way to a polished elevator.

Two women were stepping out of the lift. Both were very elegant, even ostentatious in their furs and jewelry. The one who looked near Florence's age gave her and Tobias an arched eyebrow. The younger woman, a girl really, kept her gaze on the floor while they passed by.

Tobias didn't seem interested in them as he ushered Florence into the elevator and closed the doors, but he must have sensed her curiosity. As the car glided up to the sixth floor, he said, "The one in green is Gloria. She also lives here."

The girl, then. "And the other lady?"

"Mrs. Stockton-Ross, although no one is supposed to acknowledge that."

"The steel magnate's wife?" Florence could well believe it from the beauty of her furs. "Then I suppose she and Gloria are friends."

Tobias gave her a wry glance. "Not friends."

"Oh." The implication was easy to understand, and so was Tobias' continued study of her. He was interested in what her reaction might be. She huffed at him. "Don't expect me to be flabbergasted. I was shocked with you because I didn't think I'd be taken in so easily."

He smiled a little. "Were you?"

"I'm sure you could tell. I'm not the most composed woman."

The elevator settled to a stop, and through its doors she caught glimpses of gold-accented walls and floors tiled in mint green and cream. Tobias guided her out and toward the third door on the right. "Here it is."

Once inside, she studied their surroundings with open curiosity. "You have a beautiful home."

"I can't complain," he said, the words pleasant and nothing else. As he removed his hat and gloves, though, he looked around himself and added, "Although the architect should've left the wood paneling natural instead of having it painted black. It's walnut, so the grain would have glowed with the right stain."

She studied the panels that covered the lower half of the living room walls. "It's possible to tell the type of wood beneath such dark paint?"

"With enough experience." A breath passed as he loosened his tie as well. Surprise lit his eyes as he realized her interest was genuine. "If you're really curious about it... even with the paint, you can feel the grain. Here, run your hand over it."

Her fingers nearly touched his as they both did so, stoking the light, bubbly feeling in her chest from standing so close to him. The slight striations in the wood were apparent but meaningless to her. He obviously had knowledge in woodworking.

"That's the heartwood. Now move your hand up to here." His fingers guided hers. "Feel the difference?"

Surprise cleared her mind. "I do. The grain is straighter."

"It's the sapwood, which is the younger part of the trunk. It's much lighter in color, which is probably why these were painted. Sapwood needs extra staining for a uniform look with the darker heartwood."

More than just a past vocation or current hobby, she thought. His voice had gained the same tone as hers whenever she had a chance to chatter about her plants: passion restrained to polite conversation.

Mindful of her earlier stumble with the roses, she held her tongue as he turned toward a nearby piece of furniture and said, "Extra work but worth it. This radio bar is black walnut."

It truly was a beautiful example of woodwork, a monolith of a rectangle that rose almost to her chest. The natural ripples in the grain kept its simple shape from looking plain or brutish and also hid the fact that its upper third swung open on either side, revealing enough bottles and glasses to serve any kind of cocktail.

Tobias ran a hand over it as well. "Look at how they kept the color consistent even inside the doors. Good work on the joints as well, even with the softer sapwood to complicate things. They didn't take the cheap and easy route as much as I would've expected for this type of mass production."

Even as his scrutiny sharpened, his expression came alive. For one brief moment, Florence witnessed what he would be like around trusted friends or loved ones—unguarded, passionate, and maybe a bit stubborn.

Then he seemed to come back into himself, the craftsman's zeal in his eyes returning to his smooth reserve. "It's fully stocked if you want a drink. You had a rough night."

"That's all right. I haven't touched the stuff in years. Besides, you're the one with memories of it, not me."

He poured a finger of bourbon for himself, but most of his attention remained on her. "You really don't remember anything while you're transformed?"

"No." She hesitated. "Was... was I very bad?"

"You were scared and in pain, that's all."

"Yet I let you inside with me." It still seemed impossible. "I don't understand why I didn't harm you. Is it because you're a wolf instead of a human?"

"I don't know." He drank the bourbon in one go and added, "All I can say is that once you let me in, you curled up in a corner of the cell like you were the one who was about to be hurt. It took an hour before I could sit nearby without scaring you further."

"What did I do afterward?" Embarrassment fought with fascination. No one had ever revealed her behavior to her. There had only been the obvious signs—fear in their eyes, blood in her mouth, and claw marks left on the door.

"Clung to me. After that, you didn't scream but also didn't stop convulsing. I think your body kept trying to finish the shift into a wolf and couldn't."

She ran a hand over her hair, still flustered. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" he said, obviously baffled.

"My behavior sounds quite... unpleasant, even if I didn't attack you."

He scoffed. "I wasn't annoyed. I was disturbed that I was taking better care of you as a stranger than you were used to receiving in your own home."

"I see." And perhaps she did. It seemed lone wolves in the city weren't so very different from their northern relatives. Up in those harsh conditions, the bonds of friends and family were fierce. Emotions ran hot as blood but loyalty was unshakable. Any of the Blackridge wolves would have viewed her current situation as being caged and left to rot, and from Tobias' expression, he thought much the same.

He shook his head, more to himself than at her, and then changed the subject. "Speaking of... any special requests for breakfast? The chef can accommodate most tastes."

"I'm not fussy about food. I used to eat anything that was put in front of me." Her answer wasn't mere courtesy. Her mouth already watered at the idea of having anything besides bland porridge for breakfast and bitter parsnip bisque for supper.

"I'll call in to the kitchen. Make yourself comfortable."

She took the chance to continue studying his apartment and its luxuries. The walls above the painted wood paneling were white and carved in bas relief. Some of the carved figures looked like depictions of old myths about the city and its uneasy relationships with wolves. Just as she turned to ask Tobias whether he liked these parts of the walls any better, he began ordering the food.

As she approached a pair of interior doors of ebony wood and frosted glass, his deep, confident voice remained clear, reinforcing the fact that she was alone with a male wolf in his apartment. Fear seemed like a silly emotion to feel, considering she could turn into a savage beast whose danger matched his. Instead, strange anticipation filled her while she pulled open the doors, which were already slightly parted.

They led into a bedroom that modeled the very latest in modern architecture. Striking colors of jade, black, and gold emphasized the strong, clean lines of the room without overwhelming the eye. Lights glittered together like diamonds, warming the geometric shapes of the furniture and highlighting the bed, which had its fur throw and black silk sheets neatly folded back.

It was all very glamorous, especially compared to her own worn, half-burnt home, yet the more she studied the room, the more she realized that there was nothing personal in it. No shelves to hold books or mementos. No photos on the bedside table or writing desk. The rest of the apartment was the same. She couldn't find any signs of a hobby to warm the spacious rooms, and the paintings and decor were elegant yet impersonal. Clearly, he had no wish to reveal himself to any visitors.

Unsure of what to do, she returned to the bedroom and looked out its massive window. The city view was beautiful, but she soon grew aware of the persistent shivers in her limbs. Her muscles still ached from the past night, and her bones felt tight and inflamed. She refused to slouch and look worse than she already did, keeping her posture straight despite a cramp forming below her left shoulder. The pain would pass as it always did. Staring at her purse in her hands helped somewhat.

"The food should be here in twenty minutes or so." Tobias stood in the doorway with his hands in his pockets, casual and yet somehow so alluring. When she said nothing, he added, "Nervous?"

"No." Too late, she realized she wasn't holding her purse so much as strangling it. "All right, perhaps a little."

He smiled. "I won't try anything. You made it clear you weren't interested."

She drew in a breath to confirm that but nearly choked on the lie. Of course she was interested. One look at him melted her on the spot.

Her expression must have shown something of her consternation, because his eyes gained a teasing glint. "Change your mind?"

"Well..." she started, already breathless as he approached her, movements slow and smooth. "I'll admit to being tempted. After all, I'll never have another chance at anything like this."

"This?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Now he was the one taking over the space they shared, charging the air between them with each step. She wasn't a short woman, but he was still taller. And so powerful! The cut of his suit made him look sleek and stylish, but she had felt hints of his muscles when clinging to him after the shift back into human form.

A shiver ran through her, but not of fear. If anything, ceding to him like a wolf felt delicious as she glanced away. "I meant the chance to play out a romance. No one will ever fall in love with me and—and I wouldn't want that, anyway. It would be horrible to trap someone into joining my situation. Yet perhaps having fun... wouldn't be very bad of me."

When he leaned in, she stared at his mouth, remembering how it had tantalized hers. Desire pulsed within her like a second beat.

"We'll go slow if you want," he murmured, even as his lips brushed hers. "Start off with something mild. Are you still sore from the shift?"

"Yes," she managed. "Unfortunately, my back often spasms for hours afterward."

"It's common with wolves who have a rough time changing form. I have a liniment that will help."

What was that delicious hint to his skin? It gave her the same intangible thrill as watching the sun fade into the cool veil of dusk, aware that the world would soon glitter with nocturnal secrets. Fireflies dancing above a silver lake. Glowing eyes in the dark. A mournful call from the shadows of trees. Hints of wonder that might be reached. Experienced.

Then her back truly did cramp, sharp pain lancing over her ribs, and she winced. "A liniment sounds wonderful, but at the moment I don't have the flexibility to put any on."

The intensity of his attention softened into sympathy. "If you're comfortable enough, I can do it while we wait for breakfast."

"Comfortable?"

"Liniment isn't rubbed into clothes." Then he stepped past to draw the curtains, giving them privacy.

She tried to sound offhand even though she wanted to grab him and pull him close again. "Of course not. I would have to undress."

"Or just unbutton the back of your dress." His gaze flickered along her body, stoking her desire to ignore all caution, before he added, "I planned to take off the more rumpled parts of my suit, myself... if it's not too improper for you."

Even as her back pinched in fresh misery, she gave in to her own humor. "Less than an hour ago, you saw me as an exhibitionist wanting to expose myself in the garden, and yet now I'm a prude that might faint if you take off your tie. Which am I, Mr. Rosewood?"

The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile. "Tobias, remember? And maybe I'm still figuring you out."

"I suppose it's only fair. I hardly understand myself." Another sharp cramp convinced her. "If you really think the liniment will help, then I'll try it."

"Lie on your stomach on the bed. I'll do the rest."

After a brief hesitation, she set aside her purse and did so. It seemed her old daring had returned—some of it, anyway. Her mouth felt dry while she settled on the bed. The duvet and sheets were much more plush than her own hard, thin mattress. Easy to sink into. Her heart pounded in her ears while she turned her head to the side and rested it against her folded arms, watching Tobias strip down to his undershirt and trousers, suspenders left to hang by his hips. She studied the strong muscles in his arms and how he looked powerful yet lean enough to be fast in a fight. Then she forced her eyes closed as he sat beside her on the bed. She shouldn't be this enamored by his virility. After all, she had seen wolves fully nude before; it was impossible not to, once enough time was spent among them.

"Ready?" he murmured. The rough edge to his voice had softened into velvet reassurance.

She nodded, trying to keep her breath deep and calm despite painful muscles, despite the brush of fingers against bare skin as he undid each button of her dress, revealing her from neck to waist. Her shoulder blades tightened against the sudden exposure. A throb of anticipation formed somewhere between her hips.

The cold liniment made her flinch, and her back threatened to seize up until warm hands began massaging it into her skin. There were no words for how good it felt, or for how clever his fingers were at finding and soothing the knots in her muscles. If moving wouldn't expose herself, she would have arched, needing more.

The fresh smells of lavender and eucalyptus filled her senses while the pain in her shoulders receded into warmth. The small muscles along her spine proved more resistant until his thumbs rubbed over each one, soothing the deep aches. When his hands moved to her hips, her breath caught in her throat. The fabric of her dress had bunched just above her tailbone, preserving her modesty, but it was impossible not to think of him pulling it down and then pulling her back until their hips met.

"You're very tight here," he said, sounding only slightly wicked.

She licked her lips, unable to think of a response through the sweet heat caused by his touch. Her composure nearly snapped as his thumbs found the dimples in the small of her back. In those sensitive spots, the calluses on his fingers became especially apparent, further inflaming her even as they chased away lingering cramps.

Then one hand moved up to the back of her neck, and she pushed herself up without thinking, rising on her elbows to let her head hang down and give him a better angle to work with. Her dress shifted from her chest, likely exposing her, but in that moment she felt too amazing to care, lost in the strong, sure fingers that rubbed away the tightness that always existed just beneath her skull. Years of fear and worry softened into a pleasant haze of sensation.

"Feeling good?"

"Yes," she managed. The word seemed inadequate for the bliss she experienced, and she tried again. "Very much so."

He didn't speak for a while, eventually applying light pressure to guide her into falling limp on the bed again. Her breath now came easily, back and ribs no longer struggling to expand with her lungs, but she still felt too light in the head, even dizzy. It wasn't just the lack of pain that stunned her but also the absence of tension and worry from him. He caressed her without reserve, hands gentle yet strong. Protective, even.

When had she last been comforted by another's touch? Soothed by the simple contact of a hug or the silent squeeze of a hand? She couldn't remember. Brana, perhaps. The she-wolf holding her tight near a fire like any mother with her pup, teaching her the constellations in the northern sky. So long ago...

An afterglow remained against her skin for several breaths after Tobias finished. When she finally opened her eyes, she found him still beside her, alert yet easy in his manners. "The liniment will dry in a few minutes. Then you can get up and see how your back feels."

She barely listened. Words slipped out of her with similar thoughtlessness. "Why do you need to use it?"

He considered the question with more care than she expected. "I used to fight a lot and once ended up with a wrenched shoulder. Sometimes, it still bothers me."

It was hard to believe. He looked so strong and fit. Sudden pain lanced through her, strong enough that she thought it was her back again. Then she realized the sensation had come from within her ribs. Her heart hurt at the idea of him suffering from a lasting injury. "Which shoulder?"

He laughed a little, amused by the need for detail. "My right. It's normal most days. Nothing to worry over."

They were so close together, and so intimately. His beautifully gold irises somehow seemed brighter than the bedroom lights glittering above. Her muscles tightened again, but this time because she was pushing herself upright.

His eyes sharpened in surprise, but she didn't care about her neckline gaping open, or her sleeves sliding down her arms as she faced him, compelled to—to what? Her heart throbbed again. To lick at his shoulder as though she might soothe it. As though even an old injury might heal with enough care and tenderness.

When her fingers brushed the strong muscles of his shoulder to make sure the light touch wouldn't hurt, his face turned into her neck, mouth finding where her pulse hammered hard and fast. She arched into him, trying not to moan as his tongue tasted at her skin. Primal, exhilarating, matching her own urge. Beast to beast. The moment she felt his teeth, she'd lose all human thought.

The awareness cut through her lust, stung her like a slap. She flinched back, panting. "This can't be right. I'm behaving like—like a bitch in heat."

He raised his eyebrows at the term but only said, "You're frightened."

"Yes." The word came out as a gasp. "The things I want to do with you are so brazen. Grotesque, even."

"You won't shock me." He seemed amused that she thought it was even possible.

She frowned, hands now fisted in the loosened neckline of her dress. "Maybe not, but I've certainly shocked myself. We only met yesterday. How can I have such intense desires? Do normal women act this way?"

His expression softened. "You want to know what I think? You've been terrified of yourself for so long that now you mistrust whatever you want and see it as a sure path to disaster. Even when it's a good feeling."

She couldn't disagree and found herself dropping her hands back in her lap. Her neck continued to tingle where his mouth had been. "An ecstatic feeling is more accurate. I thought I was about to faint."

"I could tell." Then he gave her a sudden, playful grin that made her blush before he added, "What did you want to do?"

Her cheeks continued to sting. "I'd rather not say. It's very improper."

"Even for a wolf?"

"Especially for a wolf." Compared to human manners, wolves were very bold—except when it came to romantic matters. She'd heard city wolves could be different, but among the northern packs she'd known, only mates shared the intimacy of a tender lick or teasing bite.

Tobias only seemed more interested but didn't press at it. "What about the rose for my suit? Why were you embarrassed about picking one for me?"

Surprise jolted through her. She hadn't expected him to remain curious about that. "It's been mostly forgotten now, but many flowers used to represent specific meanings in their colors and arrangements when given to someone. A secret language spoken through bouquets. I learned it as a hobby and know what every rose conveys through its color. Most are only suitable for romance, of course. Declarations of love, a conveyance of admiration, a pledge of loyalty, and so on. In these modern times, flowers are simply flowers. I understand that. Yet I'm not used to any level of intimacy and grew embarrassed at choosing a rose for you. Any flower would have been a message that was very..."

She drew in a deep breath to make sure the final word came out calmly, aware of the irony. "Forward."

From the way he bit his tongue, he was trying not to laugh and embarrass her again.

"I know. It was a ludicrous reaction, considering my current state of undress."

"I was thinking more 'sweet.'"

She gave him a wry smile for the diplomatic response and began fussing with the parts of her hair that had fallen free of her bun. "Now you are making fun of me."

Her fingers fell still again as his own reached out and brushed the loose strands away from her eyes and then skimmed the curve of her cheek. The warmth returned to his voice, full of a promise that her body understood even if her mind couldn't quite grasp it. "No."

Just as her hands hesitated against her dress, ready to pull the fabric down before reaching for him again, a bell rang from somewhere in the kitchen.

"That's the dumbwaiter," said Tobias, rising to his feet. From his wry tone, he knew that the moment was lost. "The food is here."

"Oh." She fumbled with her sleeves, aware that she wouldn't be able to re-button the back of her dress. In silence, he did it for her. The act somehow felt as intimate as if he instead took her dress all the way off, and she quickly turned to him as soon as he'd finished. "Thank you. My back feels much better."

He nodded and offered his hand to help her up. "Some breakfast and you'll feel normal again."

She murmured something agreeable but knew he was wrong. Pinched with worry, dull with grief—those were her normal feelings. A new spark had lit her heart,  and she could name it: the warm glow of infatuation.