Chris

"It doesn't make sense." Harper frowned as I handed her a cup of coffee. It took about fifteen minutes for her to calm down enough to have a conversation without shouting my name.

"Does anything make sense these days, Harper?" I answered her with a question. "I'm a descendent of the kveldulf, which means evening wolf. During the Viking ages, there lived a man named Úlfr Bjálfason, a shape-shifter who refused an allegiance with the king."

"Should I be scared of you?" she asked, then sipped her drink.

"I do bite." I grinned, running my tongue across my teeth salaciously.

"Stop that!" Harper huffed, and her body tensed.

"Stop what?"

"Stop teasing me when I don't know if you'll make a meal out of me."

"I don't tease my food. I'm flirting with you because you're beautiful."

Harper touched my arm, sending a tingle to my heart. "You're the shadow," she murmured.

"The shadow?"

"The wolf's shadow that comes in my dreams. I've been chasing you for years. Except, I didn't think you were real until I came here."

"I'm flesh and blood. Here, touch me." My eyes begged hers as I placed her hand on my chest. Her fingers traced the contours of my muscles, feeling every scar, bruise, and scratch.

"You're handsome," she admitted, gazing at the towel wrapped loosely around my hips. It would take just one tug of the towel for my manhood to be exposed.

I pulled her into me, inhaling her rose scent. "I'm sorry for teasing you earlier today. I thought it was harmless flirting, but neither of us was ready. I got overly excited, as wolves sometimes do."

Harper pressed her head against my chest and whispered, "Our energies pulled us together too strongly. I reacted because of what happened to me in the past, and I was terrified of getting hurt again."

I frowned and tightened my lips. "I'm sorry for what happened to you. You didn't deserve any of it. I'll never hurt you, at least not intentionally. And if I ever hurt you, I'll be quick to apologize."

"I believe you, and I trust you," she said.

"I might hurt your ex-boyfriend, Jackson. I can't promise what I'll do if I ever meet him. Heck, I might make a meal out of him!"

Harper giggled, then looked up at me. "Can you tell me your story?"

"I'll take you to the old schoolhouse," I answered, holding her hand. "I'll explain everything there, but first, I need to go home for some clothes."

"I prefer you without clothes," Harper admitted, blushing.

"I bet you do." I chuckled, adjusting the towel.

***

Harper

"This place is amazing," I praised as we walked inside the old schoolhouse. The school was simple: one spacious room with empty desks and chairs facing a large oak bureau—the teacher's desk. Photos, drawings, and an outdated map decorated the timber walls, which emitted a crisp pine scent. Chris took my hand and guided me to a wall photo of a small group of children.

"There you are," I pointed at a shy blond boy tucking in his chin and biting his lower lip. I recognized him immediately—he was the same boy in the picture in my cabin. It was hard not to miss the haunting stare from his gray eyes.

Chris's finger scratched my palm, and his eyes creased from his weary smile. "There I am."

"You've got a haunted expression in the photo. It's as if you've seen a ghost. What happened?" I asked.

"I did see a ghost. I saw my mother's apparition floating in midair from time to time for forty days after she was murdered. She was like an angel surrounded by light. After that, she disappeared," he answered. "I also shifted for the first time at the age of eight, right before her death. Don't you think it warrants prolonged shock?"

"You poor soul! Did anyone else know?"

"Come, look at this photo." Chris guided me to another framed photo on the wall. It was of Chris as a boy playing with a little dark-haired girl. She had a few freckles on her nose and green eyes like fresh forest leaves.

"Is that Roberta?"

Chris nodded.

"She knew all along?"

"Yes. She's a shifter, like me."

"Is she your soulmate?"

"No."

"I watched you make love to her before she left," I confessed.

"You did? Well, I hope you enjoyed the show," Chris scoffed, shaking his head.

"Why aren't you with her?"

"Roberta's been one of my closest friends since childhood, but I want you." Chris's gray eyes held me, captivating me with their mystery. He rubbed my shoulders, which shook from the cold gust of air blowing from the outside through the open doorway.

"You keep me warm from the cold," I murmured, inhaling his earthy scent. He smelled like the forest, hinting dark and sensual notes of cedarwood, bergamot, and sandalwood.

"I feel your moods and the energy around you. You are the only woman who affects me this way. We match, Harper."

"You sense me?" I stroked his strong arm.

"I do. I didn't mean to upset you yesterday, but I felt you weren't ready for me. That was why I jumped into the water."

Was I unique to Chris? Where were we heading?

"You are special to me," he declared, pressing his lips against mine. Could he read my mind?

"I've been hunting for you all my life. And here you are," I said, breaking the kiss. Chris's shadow was always tied to me. "But tell me, were your parents also shifters?"

"My dad married a woman with Viking ancestry—my mother. He didn't realize he brought a wolf when he took his new bride to the island. She kept her secret from him for years, fearful that he would no longer love or accept her as she was," Chris told me.

"That's so sad. Nobody should ever have to hide who they are to be loved," I remarked, shuddering at the thought of not being loved unconditionally.

"I shifted for the first time on my eighth birthday, so my mother and I spent a few days in the woods, camping out on the other side of the island. She taught me to hunt and survive in the wilderness," he continued.

"But what about your dad?"

"He went crazy during those few days. She left a note by the fireplace, but he never found it."

"Strange," I mused. "I wonder what happened with the note."

Chris shrugged his shoulders. "The locals said Dad went on a vengeance spree during those few days. He hunted and killed any animal that stood in his path—deer, a moose, and even a bear."

"Are there bears on the island?" I freaked out. "I can handle wolves, but I'm not keen on bears!"

Chris chuckled. "Yeah, there's a family of brown bears, but they're harmless if left alone."

"So, your dad found you and your mom?"

"I transformed into my human form by the time he found us. I stood with a lone wolf next to my mother's torn clothes. Believing the wolf killed my mother, Dad shot her."

"Oh, my God!" I gasped, cupping my hands over my mouth.

"For years, I blamed myself for her death. I remained silent out of fear. Then Roberta helped me to see it was never my fault."

"She understood you and gave you comfort."

"She did. Come here, there's one last photo I want to show you." Chris led me to the teacher's desk. He opened the drawer and handed me a photo in a glass frame.

"Oh, she's beautiful," I exclaimed, staring at a pretty woman with gray eyes and flaxen-blonde hair. She stood in front of the schoolhouse and wore a mysterious smile. "Is this your mother?"

Chris nodded. "She was a teacher at the school. It shut down after her death, and many of the island's residents moved to the mainland. People feared Dad because he was impulsive, violent, and unpredictable."

"Did he ever hurt you, Chris?"

"He punched me in the gut during an argument when I was fifteen, so I called social services. They placed me with a foster family in town after that. People called my dad 'Crazy Bill,' you know." Chris sighed and wiped his brow. "He died of heart failure when I turned twenty, and I inherited everything he owned on this island."

Feeling a wave of emotions hit my heart, I caressed his arm. "Thank you for opening up to me."

"You're welcome," Chris answered with a half-smile. "How about you? Your parents? Do you see them much?"

"I visit them at Saint Mark's Cemetery in my hometown. They were walking in the woods when a bunch of gun-crazy idiots decided to shoot every animal they could find. Unfortunately, the animals they murdered were my parents. I was barely eight, too," I revealed.

Enough of this melancholy. "Let's talk about something else," I suggested. "There's too much darkness in the world."

"You want to know something kinda spooky?" Chris pulled me into him again.

"What could scare me?" I dared to ask. I glanced at the lone lamp on the school desk, which created an eerie glow surrounding Chris's form.

A flash of lightning struck the sky, followed by murderous thunder, causing me to jump and scream. Chris's grin was no longer sweet but devilish and cunning.

"I'm starving, Harper. My appetite for you is insatiable."

***