Hunting Season: Werewolf Bodyguard Romance (Guarded by the Shifter Book 1), Kate Rudolph [ebook reader with android os TXT] 📗

that was another problem. Wolf and man were binary states. He was a man. He was a wolf. There wasn't an in between, except for in the moments of the shift. One of the first things he and his fellow wolves had tried to do when they first shifted was summon claws like they were comic book characters.

It hadn't worked. All Owen got for his efforts was a headache.

Maybe they'd started too big.

But Owen didn't want claws now. He closed his eyes once more and concentrated on his humanity. He breathed deep and thought human thoughts: thumbs, beer, church. No wolf had ever been dragged to Sunday School.

It worked. When he opened his eyes they were a reassuring brown once more, and his teeth looked like teeth.

Crisis averted, Owen dried off as quickly as possible, doing his best to ignore his cock. He had to. His job depended on it.

And possibly his humanity.

Did he need to apologize to Stasia?

Owen wasn't sure what she would want, and he didn't want to make things worse. She'd almost kissed him in the library, he was certain of it.

Or maybe that was his wolf seeing things he wanted to see.

He'd play it by ear. And he'd behave. No more funny business.

Of course, his resolve was tested the moment he stepped out of the bathroom. His wolf tugged him towards Stasia's closed door, but Owen resisted, fighting against the force until he was safely ensconced in his own bedroom.

It wasn't much: a queen bed, a wardrobe, and a small window that looked out onto the park. Way more peaceful than anything in his apartment. He could barely hear any noise from the city. He could almost pretend he was back on Gibson's farm.

And maybe Gibson was exactly who he needed. Owen pulled out his phone and dialed.

"Is something wrong?" Gibson barked out as soon as the call connected.

Owen scrunched his brow. "Wrong? Why?" He needed advice, he called Gibson, that was how this thing worked. Gibson was his… boss. They shied away from the other word all the werewolf fiction used.

"You already checked in."

"That was a few hours ago. I'm calling to let you know that we worked out a rotation with the surveillance team and the client has agreed to the surveillance for one week." Now that he was talking, he wondered if he really needed to talk about the rest of it. He'd had a moment of crazy. It happened to everyone. Really, he was feeling fine now.

But Gibson had some magic power to sense when Owen was avoiding things. "I know all that. What's going on, Myers?"

It felt weird to bring it up. Gibson was like the dad of their little group, and Owen had never talked to his parents about sex. They were a good Catholic family. They ignored that shit until it blew up in their faces, just like God intended. He was pretty sure his parents still thought he was a virgin.

But Gibson hasn't his dad. He had to tell him. "My wolf feels weird." They all reported strange werewolf bullshit to Gibson when it happened.

"Your wolf? What does that mean?" There wasn't any judgment, just confusion.

"You know what I mean, man. The hairy dude inside of me. Four legs. Howls at the moon." Owen realized he might have been talking loud enough for Stasia to hear and lowered his voice. He did not want his ma—his client to overhear this conversation.

"You think of it as a separate entity?" He could imagine Gibson noting this whole thing down on a clipboard like Owen was a fascinating specimen.

"Not usually. But today it's really feeling like it. Is that normal?" He hoped Gibson had answers. It wasn't like the major had more werewolfing experience than the rest of them, but sometimes it felt like it. He had that kind of presence.

Gibson huffed out a laugh. "We're werewolves. We left normal behind a long time ago."

"There's something about…" He didn't want to say Stasia's name. His wolf wanted to guard her viciously and keep anyone from her. She was his. But he'd only known her for a day. What if Gibson could explain what was going on? What if he could fix it?

"About what?"

He had to say it. She was his client. Gibson was his boss. And he wasn't going to lie to him. "The client. Stasia… um… Dr. Nichols." They didn't generally get on a first name basis with their clients, and Owen hoped his slip up wasn't that noticeable.

Apparently it wasn't. Sometimes it paid off to be a bit too cheery and informal. "What about her?"

How was he supposed to explain it? He couldn't even explain it to himself, and he was sitting in his own brain. "My wolf… I… She's very attractive."

"She's not the first hot woman you've needed to protect. Is this something else?" There was something in Gibson's voice that made Owen leery, like Gibson knew something Owen didn't and he hadn't told. For some reason.

"I don't know." He tried to think back to his other clients, but everyone paled in comparison to Stasia. They might as well have never existed.

"Do you need to be taken off of this detail?"

His wolf flared to life inside of him at the thought. Give up Stasia? Never. "No," he snarled.

"Myers," Gibson warned, a bit of his own wolf's rumble coming through.

It was enough to make Owen take a breath. "I'm okay. I promise." He'd never snarled at Gibson—or anyone—before, especially not in human form. That had to be bad. What was so special about Stasia? Why couldn't he control himself?

Gibson took him at his word. "Contact me if anything changes. We need to keep track of what our wolves are doing. We're the only werewolves in the universe. There isn't a rulebook for this."

That was true. Teen Wolf hadn't done much to teach Owen about what it meant to be wolfy. Gibson disconnected, and Owen realized he'd been so caught up in his emotions about Stasia that he forgot to