Trusting the Wolf - snippet

I woke with a start, my heart pounded like a jackhammer. The taste of blood coated the back of my throat, a ghost of a memory. I killed Geoff, again. With the sheet clenched in my fists, I struggled to get my heart rate under control. I didn’t need a mirror to tell me gold rolled over my shapeshifter eyes. The rage, fear, and revulsion faded slowly as I came back to myself. Wearily, I rubbed my face. This was getting old. “Get a grip, Lottie,” I told myself irritably and flung back the covers. Geoff was a member of my pack and used to run security with me. I never much liked him. We didn’t get along, but we could work together. Our alphas discovered the beta wolf murdered one of our pack members and poisoned another. I didn’t know anything about it until it was too late. How did I miss the signs pointing to his guilt? I’m a security screw up, that’s how. The need to be outside overwhelmed me. I didn’t bother to grab a robe before leaving the bedroom. My feet unerringly took me through the dark house. From the kitchen, I exited by the back door and stepped into the walled-in back garden. I breathed in deep. The cooler night air helped. I could feel my blood pressure slowly dropping. Usually, when I'm surrounded by growing things, I can unwind. Not tonight. In daylight, the yard was a multi-hued display. After dark, the plants released their complex scents into the still night air. Surrounded by the rich, spicy perfumes, I breathed them in again, hoping to calm down. But still it wasn’t enough. Abruptly, I opened the outside shower door. The metal spring protested with a squawk, but I’m the only one to hear it. Even though the new moon has yet to rise, the interior was clearly defined as my wolf sight took over. The teak floor, smooth under my bare feet, felt cold. My landlord salvaged the wood from a sailboat cockpit to build it. The wooden grid allows the water from the rainspout shower head to pass through to the drainage system, and water the plants. We experience droughts more often now on the Island, and Guy Tremblay is the plan ahead type. A bath puff and towel hung from the row of brass hooks, but I wasn't here to shower, at least not yet. I hug my panties and tank top from an empty hook. At five-foot, ten inches, I carry a respectable amount of muscle. With my well-developed arms extended over my head I reached for the night sky. I bent forward and placed my hands flat on the wooden floor, and felt my hamstrings stretch. None of this naked yoga was strictly necessary, but it loosened up my limbs. I felt a consuming need to shift and burn off the nightmare hangover with a run. Thoughts of Geoff continued to plague me as I straightened and brief bloody images flashed in my head. He’d managed to kill and terrorize his way from Campbell River to the Cowichan Valley before we made him pay. It didn’t matter he deserved to die, I can’t escape the images. Instead, I shook off the overpowering feelings. Took one more deep calming breath and my barriers dropped. Pure, clean power washed through me, as I open myself up to the pool of magic that resides inside my human shape. The magic cleaned and transformed my spirit as it reshaped my body. The power drove away the suffocating feelings of guilt and released my wolf.