Soul of Flame by Merryn Dexter Page B

compelling the most instinctive part of his makeup. Ven reached for his human form, shocked when his wolf resisted his command. He gave a hard mental shove and tried again but his animal snarled its defiance inside his mind. Digging deep, he tried again.
    And again.
    Panic rose as the wolf refused to shift and Ven cast around the clearing, keeping his head down to avoid eye contact. If the Enforcer thinks I’m deliberately disobeying him…. The trickle of water over rocks caught his attention and he loped quickly over to the river. It ran slow and smooth here and the surface barely rippled as he stared into the reflective surface.
    The black-eyed wolf, the other half of his soul, regarded him, lips curled away to reveal sharp white teeth, thick gray hackles raised across his shoulders. This is how we should be, always. Strong, protected, invulnerable. The wolf held firm and a ripple of fear struck Ven.
    Focusing hard, he looked beyond the reflection as he pictured himself in human form. Long dark hair secured off his face with two braids, dark skin like burnished mahogany, black eyes set deep above a sharp, proud nose. Full lips twisted in a perpetual sneer above his pointed chin. Once he had his face set, the rest of his image snapped into place. He was a big man, maybe an inch or so shorter than Ryker, but thicker through the chest and solid muscle.
    With a grunt of effort, he forced his wolf down far enough to transition to his human form. The shift seemed to take forever and sweat soaked his skin by the end of it. Crouching on the ground, lungs sawing with effort, he scooped one hand into the water of the river and splashed his face. The shocking cold chased away the last vestiges of fear, and he became aware of the two men standing close by.
    Hating the vulnerability of kneeling before them he shoved hard to his feet, ignoring the ache in his muscles. He staggered. Gee grabbed his arm in a meaty fist, preventing a humiliating tumble onto his naked ass. Naked ass . Where the hell are my clothes? He’d never not manifested his clothing during his shift before. Not all wolves could do it, but he had the ability to shift without stripping down to his skin.
    “How long had you been wolf?” Ryker spoke in a mild, deceptive tone. Never one to shout, his calm, measured voice turned Ven’s blood to ice.
    Brow furrowed, he tried to remember when he’d last stood on two legs and found he couldn’t place it exactly. There had been the first dusting of snow on the ground. Now the trail edges were a sea of yellow flowers, early spring sunshine bringing the meadow zizia into full glory.
    Tugging his arm free from Gee’s grip, he braced his bare feet to make sure he held his stance. Since childhood, his best form of defense had always been attack and he channeled the ever-present well of anger bubbling in his gut. Better to be angry than scared. His lack of awareness of the passing of time seriously spooked him. He twisted his upper lip into a sneer, an expression he’d perfected and wore like a shield.
    “What the fuck difference does it make? I run my patrols. I keep this northern section safe. Why do you care whether I do it as wolf or man?” His belligerence was legendary amongst the pack. Whatever else people called him, and they had a few prime choices, Ven would never be called a people-person. Or a wolf’s-wolf.
    What-the-fuck-ever.
    “It makes a difference when it takes you ten minutes to shift. It makes a difference when I have to put you in a hole in the ground because you forget your humanity and go rogue.” Ryker’s tone never altered throughout his speech. And, for a wolf who rationed the words he used to the point of being monosyllabic, two sentences counted as a speech.
    Shock rippled through Ven. Ten minutes to shift? Flicking his horrified gaze to Gee, the sympathy shining brightly in the old bear’s eyes morphed Ven’s horror to anger. He hated pity more than anything else. Disdain, anger,