Tiergarten is kind of like Berlin’s version of Central Park. It gets pretty crowded during the day, especially in the summer. At this time of night, though, it was quiet and eerie, the trees casting weird shadows that made you wonder what they were hiding. Even so, we stayed well away from the Siegesäule, the big victory monument in the middle of the Straße des 17. Juni, which bisects the park. It has the reputation of Berlin’s oldest—and busiest—cruising spot. Not that I’d ever tried it. Call me old-fashioned, but I like to get to know a guy a little over a beer or six before we go off and do the nasty. I felt a sudden pang of nostalgia for the good old days, when my biggest worry was whether I’d get laid that night.
I wondered if Christoph felt the same. Although I got the feeling casual wasn’t really his thing. He was probably into relationships, not hookups, back before all this started. My stomach dropped as I wondered if, somewhere in the city, some guy was sitting at home wondering why Christoph never called him anymore.
Hell, if the guy couldn’t cope with all the werewolf shit, Christoph was better off without him.
We’d picked a good night for the run, anyhow. The moon was high and full, and although the ground was still damp, there was barely a cloud in the sky. The lights of the city drowned out all but the stubbornest stars, but every so often my eyes tracked the moving lights of airplanes speeding to and from the city airports. People, packed in little tin cans like so much corned beef.
My stomach rumbled despite the falafel, and I was glad when we moved from the open spaces to a more heavily forested area of the park. The trees’ dark canopy spread overhead, hiding the outside world from view, and the smell of wet earth filled my nostrils. For a moment, I could almost believe we were back in the forest around Schreiber’s—Christoph’s—house. Weirdly, it was reassuring. Like here was where I belonged.
Then we broke out into a small clearing, and the moon was visible once more. My feeling of belonging quadrupled, then squared. The moon’s light had a cool, pure quality you never get from daylight. It glimmered subtly off the damp grass, whispering to me, enticing me to take off my shirt and bask in it. I told myself not to be so damn suggestible—until I saw that Christoph was doing just that. I stood stock-still and watched him.
He was lean and toned, his shoulders broad without being bulky. He had his back to me as he laid his shirt on a bench, and the sight of him was causing all kinds of wholly inappropriate reactions. I hoped like hell he couldn’t smell them. I tried to drag my mind up out of the gutter, but led by my dick, it kept going back to the image of those taut muscles moving under tanned skin. How the hell did an architect get so goddamn fit? Did he spend his lunch hours working out in the park?
Angrily, I ripped off my shirt—realizing too late that’d probably send a waft of lust-ridden pheromones rushing in Christoph’s direction. Just as I thought it, he turned. Clear blue eyes shone right at me. I concentrated on those still-hidden fangs of his and how they’d felt as they tore into my shoulder, and I managed to change. It felt better, facing him as the monster he’d made of me.
The asshole looked right past me. “Silke, it’s time.”
Chapter Ten
I spun guiltily. I’d forgotten Silke was even with us. She was standing there hugging herself, looking miserable. I guess turning into a big hairy freak isn’t going to be too high on any young girl’s list of what makes a good night out.
It sure as hell didn’t figure on mine.
“Silke…” There was a warning in Christoph’s tone. Then he sighed, and spoke more softly. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. Forget what your father told you.”
She nodded—and started to strip. Completely. Hell, not only was she into basking in the moonlight, it seemed she was worried about tan lines. I realized
I wondered if Christoph felt the same. Although I got the feeling casual wasn’t really his thing. He was probably into relationships, not hookups, back before all this started. My stomach dropped as I wondered if, somewhere in the city, some guy was sitting at home wondering why Christoph never called him anymore.
Hell, if the guy couldn’t cope with all the werewolf shit, Christoph was better off without him.
We’d picked a good night for the run, anyhow. The moon was high and full, and although the ground was still damp, there was barely a cloud in the sky. The lights of the city drowned out all but the stubbornest stars, but every so often my eyes tracked the moving lights of airplanes speeding to and from the city airports. People, packed in little tin cans like so much corned beef.
My stomach rumbled despite the falafel, and I was glad when we moved from the open spaces to a more heavily forested area of the park. The trees’ dark canopy spread overhead, hiding the outside world from view, and the smell of wet earth filled my nostrils. For a moment, I could almost believe we were back in the forest around Schreiber’s—Christoph’s—house. Weirdly, it was reassuring. Like here was where I belonged.
Then we broke out into a small clearing, and the moon was visible once more. My feeling of belonging quadrupled, then squared. The moon’s light had a cool, pure quality you never get from daylight. It glimmered subtly off the damp grass, whispering to me, enticing me to take off my shirt and bask in it. I told myself not to be so damn suggestible—until I saw that Christoph was doing just that. I stood stock-still and watched him.
He was lean and toned, his shoulders broad without being bulky. He had his back to me as he laid his shirt on a bench, and the sight of him was causing all kinds of wholly inappropriate reactions. I hoped like hell he couldn’t smell them. I tried to drag my mind up out of the gutter, but led by my dick, it kept going back to the image of those taut muscles moving under tanned skin. How the hell did an architect get so goddamn fit? Did he spend his lunch hours working out in the park?
Angrily, I ripped off my shirt—realizing too late that’d probably send a waft of lust-ridden pheromones rushing in Christoph’s direction. Just as I thought it, he turned. Clear blue eyes shone right at me. I concentrated on those still-hidden fangs of his and how they’d felt as they tore into my shoulder, and I managed to change. It felt better, facing him as the monster he’d made of me.
The asshole looked right past me. “Silke, it’s time.”
Chapter Ten
I spun guiltily. I’d forgotten Silke was even with us. She was standing there hugging herself, looking miserable. I guess turning into a big hairy freak isn’t going to be too high on any young girl’s list of what makes a good night out.
It sure as hell didn’t figure on mine.
“Silke…” There was a warning in Christoph’s tone. Then he sighed, and spoke more softly. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. Forget what your father told you.”
She nodded—and started to strip. Completely. Hell, not only was she into basking in the moonlight, it seemed she was worried about tan lines. I realized
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