The calm before the storm was settling in. Call it intuition if you must, but I couldn't shake the feeling that things were far from okay. Not that I needed a reminder of that, but I felt it more than usual this week. Maybe it was due to the secret Vincent and I were harboring.

We'd agreed not to tell anyone about the laptop. We'd also agreed that moving it wasn't the best idea. That was almost three weeks ago. He figured it'd cause havoc if whoever placed the laptop there, came back for it and found it was missing. So far, everything was still normal. Well, for the most part. The shadows had gone quiet lately. But nothing we couldn't handle.

I'd like to think all of my issues were resolved after that but I'd run into yet another problem: I was growing incredibly homesick incredibly fast. Not even the sound of my mother's bold, honey-sweet voice on speaker phone helped to rid me of the growing feeling. It just made the feeling ten times worse. She was chipper than usual today too. Spewing out things that happened to her this week and so on. Then, the dreadful topic I knew would come up, did come up.

"Gen, baby, have you decided what you're doing for the holidays?" she asked.

I was thankful she couldn't see me cringe. "Not yet. Why do you ask?"

"Why do I ask?" she repeated, her voice raising a pitch higher as if I'd offended her and kicked her puppy. "Christmas? Your birthday? Did you forget? Your father asked me if you were going to spend Christmas with me or him this year and I told him I'd ask."

"I think this year"—I swallowed and licked my lips, unable to bring myself to tell her the truth—"I'd just like to celebrate my twenty-first birthday with some friends."

"Friends?" My mother's curiosity peaked.

"Yeah." I laughed through my lie. "A few of me and Vincent's friends."

"Oh, well excuse me, young lady," she said, jokingly. "How's that boy been anyway?"

"Mom, that is a grown man you're referring to." More like a grown wolf.

She gasped. "And? He's still younger than me."

I rolled my eyes, nonetheless laughing. "He's been doing just fine."

She hummed. "You two better be treating each other right over there."

"We are. I promise." I smiled. At least, that wasn't a lie. "Don't worry, mom. You'll see me before the holidays are over. I'll try and stop by one of these days."

"Oh, you better. You and that boy."

"Vincent, mom." I laughed again. "He has a name."

"Yeah, yeah." I imagined her waving me off from the other end of the phone. "I have to get back to work now, okay? Call me later. Love you and talk to you later, Genesis." By the time I returned her words, she'd already hung up.

I turned my phone face down on my lap and curled up closer to the window. The cool glass made me shiver, regardless of how warm it was in Vincent's office. A fresh layer of white merged with the snow-littered ground. New York had its first snowfall last week. Apparently, today's cool temperature was low enough for another.

I'd lost track of how long I'd been sitting here. Calamitous was a train wreck this week. No, not in the way it'd been when I first arrived because of Amaury's death and the shadows. It just so happened that the holidays were one of Calamitous' busiest times of the year. Which meant less of Vincent for me. So, my only choice was to accompany him while he worked. It wasn't hard to fall back into our daily routine. Every now and then he took small breaks.

As I thought about Vincent, his familiar stench pierced my nose. He turned into the room with two mugs in hand—both reeking of hot chocolate and overflowing with mini marshmallows. He placed a mug in front of me. Then, he pushed the chair from his desk closer to me and took a seat facing my direction. I reached for my hot chocolate, watching him take small sips from his mug.

"What is it?" he asked, noticing my staring.

"You like hot chocolate a lot, don't you?" I said.

He shrugged. "My mother often made me hot cocoa when I was old enough to drink it."

"I guess now's a better time than ever for it. Today's the first day of winter."

"Yeah. You're not wrong." A small smile graced his face.

That, in turn, made me smile again. I tipped my own mug to my lips and pressed my head to the window. We stayed like that—observing each other's movements, drinking from our mugs, and enjoying the bitter-sweet silence.

"So," he said, clearing his throat, "your birthday's coming up?"

"You were eavesdropping?"

"No . . . I just happened to be passing through."

"Sure," I said, rolling my eyes, "sounds like you're taking a page from my book."

"In my defense, you had her on speaker and you're in my office. I was coming back with our hot chocolate regardless," he scoffed, then tilted his head. "Your birthday is on Christmas day?"

I shrugged. "It is."

"That's Friday. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Did you tell me when your birthday was?" I retorted.

"That's different. We weren't close then," he defended himself.

"Oh. So, we're close now?" I smirked.

He rolled his eyes. "Is being obnoxious in your blood?"

"Oh hush, you missed me working your nerves."

"I did," he admitted.

My cheeks flushed and suddenly my skin felt too hot. Whether the hot chocolate was to blame for that or not, was debatable. I mumbled, "You weren't supposed to agree. . ." He smirked in return and lifted his mug to his lips again.

"What do you usually do for your birthday?" He sounded genuinely curious. I wished I had a plausible answer for his question. But truthfully, I never did much. After a while, I ran out of ideas. Out of time. Out of care. The holidays were both a blessing and a curse for birthdays.

"Sometimes, I spend it with my mom. Sometimes, with my dad. That's about it."

"Oh," he mouthed. "Is that what you want to do this year?"

"No, I . . . I think I'll just stay here. I'm not really . . . feeling it this year." As homesick as I felt, spending time with my family this year didn't feel right. It was all an illusion that'd remind me I wasn't returning to my normal life yet—if ever. I intended to keep my promise to my mother. I'd visit her before the new year. But staying over wasn't an option I wanted to entertain.

Vincent gripped the mug handle tighter in his hands. I thought I'd imagined the frown on his face. But he covered it up before I could think about it. So, I changed the topic.

"Hey, do wolves celebrate Christmas or any other holidays?"

"No, not really. We've got our own traditions. Mostly in line with the moon goddess and the harvest moon and such. Human traditions have never been a part of our culture," he replied.

"Ah okay, good to know," I hummed.

"Genesis, do you"—Vincent paused and dragged his index finger along the edge of his mug, his eyes lost in the evaporating steam—"would you like to do something for your birthday?"

"Oh, um." That was a surprising request. "I'm not sure. I mean, I guess if I think of anything, I'll let you know. Is that okay?" He hummed and nodded.

I couldn't remember the last time I truly celebrated my birthday for the sake of my birthday. Not for Christmas day. Christmas always overshadowed my birthday. It wasn't my parents fault per se. But this was my twenty-first. That meant it should have been special, right? I was an adult by law. People made a big deal out of that. Some threw parties. Some took their first drink. Regardless, they had fun. Did I want to have fun? I wasn't sure what I wanted anymore.

A pinch on my side caused my brain to short circuit. "Um, ouch? What was that for?" My lips fell into a frown as I eyed the culprit. He was acting nonchalant.

"I don't know, I just felt like it." He leaned back in his chair, kicking his leg over the other. I narrowed my eyes and nudged his leg with my foot. A lopsided grin slowly spread across his face from cheek to cheek. "Thought you could use a distraction."

My heart swelled.

I liked that he felt he could be more carefree around me. It wasn't his usual alpha shield. But the boyish, sarcastic Vincent I'd come to know who was just as annoying as me. The things Mariah told me at Grimfur were charging back in full-speed. When I thought of them, I couldn't help but think: Would it be so bad if I stayed?

* * *

When I awoke Friday morning, the smell of french toast and eggs greeted me. It was the only reason I got out of bed. I turned the corner, expecting to see Vincent. But Lady Teresa was in the kitchen instead. She hummed a tune I didn't recognize. Her every step was graceful as she maneuvered from the counter to the refrigerator.

"Good morning, Genesis," she said, her back still turned.

"Good morning." I looked around. I soon found the culprit of the stench. A plate, stacked with two pieces of french toast, strawberries, syrup, and eggs, lay waiting on the counter. Lady Teresa must have just finished preparing it because she was putting utensils and ingredients away.

"Where's Vincent?" I asked.

"He stepped out for a few," she answered.

"Oh." I couldn't hide my disappointment.

She grabbed the plate off the counter, then walked up to me. "For you."

"For me?" I took the plate.

"He tells me it's your birthday," she said.

"Oh, did he?" I smiled. He didn't have to tell anyone.

"Mhm-hmm. Don't worry. I'm the only one who knows." She winked.

I chuckled. "Well then, thank you for this. You didn't have to. Honestly."

She ignored my comment, saying, "He should be back in the next half an hour." I nodded, then retreated to the dining table.

The next half an hour came and went. I received a phone call from my mother wishing me a happy birthday. And a brief phone call from my father. Still no sign of Vincent. What was he up to? He never mentioned anything about stepping out today. Another twenty minutes went by, and I felt myself getting anxious. I was back in my room, stalking the window to the front of the residence. Just then, a door opened somewhere in the house. I sniffed the air. It was him.

I darted into the hallway. He was already halfway up the stairs.

"Change out of those clothes and put on a cloak," he said, taking in my appearance.

"Why? Where are we going?" My nose scrunched.

"Just do it. And bring an extra pair of warm clothes. It's cold." He disappeared in his room.

I clicked my tongue against the root of my mouth, nonetheless, following his instructions. After stripping off my clothing until I was bare, I slipped a cloak over my head. I couldn't believe I was going outside like this. Me? The girl who freezes in the fall? In the below freezing mountain weather. This better had been for something amazing. More than anything, I hated having to go commando. That was one part of the shifter lifestyle I could live without.

Vincent stepped back into the hallway with a cloak on too. A bag hung from his shoulders, filled with goodness knows what. Maybe if I kept my eyes above his waist, I could force myself not to think about the fact he was also naked under there.

"Put your clothes in here." He held the bag open.

"Okay?" I did what he told me to.

"We're taking the tunnel route," he informed me. My brain was working overtime—trying to figure out what he could have had planned. Ultimately, I couldn't think of anything. So, I followed him to the tunnels. Halfway to the other exit, Vincent slowed down, dropping the bag to the floor. He turned to me, his eyes searching my face. What was he doing? I saw him reaching for his cloak. But he made no further move to remove it yet.

"We're going for a run," he said.

My eyes bulged. "Wait, you want me to shift?"

He nodded.

"Right here?"

He nodded again. "We have privacy here. That's why I brought you through the tunnels. I know you'd most likely be uncomfortable shifting out there." Well, that was considerate. I figured being naked was normal for the average wolf shifter but I couldn't bring myself to.

"But it's cold. And t-there's no snow on the ground!" Excuses, excuses.

"For our skin, sure. But it's not cold enough where our fur can't withstand it."

"Oh no. I don't know about that. I can't shift again. . ."

"Come on, you did it before. All by yourself."

"That was under pressure!"

"Gen, relax." His voice was soothing. "You can do it again. I know you can."

"But I. . ." I was out of excuses.

"Just follow my lead. Breathe in, breathe out," he whispered. Vincent's hands eased into mine. I shut my eyes in an attempt to breathe and focus. I could feel Vincent sneaking up behind me. Just like the last time, I focused on the warmth from his body. He continued whispering, "I want you to do this every time you want to shift. Every time until it becomes natural."

I nodded and squeezed his hand.

"Is it okay if I remove this?" I assumed he was talking about my cloak.

"I-I . . . guess."

"I need a yes or a no, Genesis." Vincent was firm in his response.

I inhaled a deep breath, ignoring the tremble in my fingers. "It's . . . okay. I'll do it."

"I won't look," he said. I trusted him not to. By the time the cloak had fallen off my body, I felt incredibly exposed. Vincent being extremely quiet hadn't helped. A few more breaths in, and my chest was heaving. I folded my arms over my chest—an attempt to cover up what I could. Even then, there was a deep sinking in the pit of my stomach. Like I was going to puke.

"That's it," Vincent encouraged me. "May I remove your glasses?"

"Go ahead," I mumbled.

He let go of my hands and removed my glasses from my face. Then, he slowly rubbed his hands up and down my arms. My body relaxed under his touch. I could do this. I clenched my fists at my side. I could do this, I told myself again. I repeated those words over and over in my head until I felt Vincent backing up. At first, I didn't understand why. But then, I felt the transition occurring and the familiar discomfort settled in.

Holy shit.

I stared at my paws and fur in disbelief.

"See?" Vincent smirked. He then removed his cloak and shifted before me. If I was back in my human form, I was sure my face would have gone a tone or two darker. Maybe a dark red. Because that was the first time I'd ever seen below his waist. Oh gosh. That was unexpected.

I sucked in a breath and tried to clear the image from my head.

He proceeded to pick up the bag and his cloak in between his teeth. I shook my head and followed suit. The utmost glee clouded my head. I felt like I was floating on cloud nine. This had been the most progress I'd made since I got here. I didn't think I was capable of shifting again so soon. But I did. I did. And damn, it felt good.