Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted novel Chapter 12

12 Ava: Husky (I) 

I turn the key in the lock, the familiar click signaling the start of another day at The Novel Grind. Mrs. Elkins is reading a book in one of our plush,

overstuffed armchairs, content to let me take over her morning chores.

“Keep the door open, dear,” she says, flipping a page and squinting through her bifocals. “An open door brings traffic, and it’s such a nice morning.”

The heavy door is a beast to prop open, and I wonder how Mrs. Elkins has managed all these years. Eventually, I find the sweet spot to jam the doorstop in, but sweat is gathering in my armpits by the time I figure it out.

I take a moment to breathe in the pine–fresh air, enjoying the chill that curls into my lungs as the sun warms my face. A soft whine catches my attention and I glance down in surprise at the silver husky sitting just outside the door, its tail thumping gently against the sidewalk.

The dog’s eyes are a blue so light that they almost

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12 Ava: Husky (1)

seem white and seem to pierce right through me, as though they can see every secret I’ve ever hidden deep into the recesses of my mind. But then that thought is gone, because hey, it’s just a dog.

Though, I can’t help but notice the uncanny similarity between the husky’s eyes and my own. It’s a little creepy. Plus, they look better on the furry one.

“Hey there, buddy,” I say, easing into a crouch. “What are you doing here so early?”

It does an adorable head tilt, perking its ears forward as though listening with deep thought to every word that I speak. It doesn’t make a sound, but I can’t help but think, again, there’s an uncanny intelligence in its

gaze.

The dog doesn’t seem to mind when I reach out a hand, and my fingers brush against the soft fur of its face. It leans into my touch, its eyes half–closed in pleasure, savoring the contact.

I know I’m smiling a freaking megawatt smile. I love animals. For obvious reasons, the pack doesn’t have dogs around. Or cats. Or rabbits. Well, actually, there are rabbits–but they aren’t the kind you cuddle with.

14:00

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12 Ava: Husky (1)

We eat them.

“You’re a friendly boy, aren’t you?” I murmur, still

scratching.

The dog pulls back, and I swear there’s affront all over that furry face.

“Friendly girl?” I try again.

Her tail wags harder, and she lets out a soft whine of

agreement.

I glance around, looking for any sign of an owner, but the street is empty save for a few early morning

joggers in the distance. “Are you lost, sweet girl?”

She stares at me, and I have the distinct sense that she thinks I’m stupid.

I sigh and stand, brushing my hair behind my ear. The wind keeps catching at it, blowing it into my face. Between that and the fur I’d managed to loosen with happy scritches, I feel like a sneeze is trying to explode out of my nose.

Huh. Is it possible for even a wolfless shifter to be allergic to dogs?

Get a freaking grip, Ava. You can’t possibly miss being in a pack so much that you’re starting to wolfy–ize a stray dog. 

I laugh and follow behind, I can’t shake the feeling that something is just off with this dog. Then again, I have never been away from a pack before, and I’ve heard that going solo does weird things to wolves. I’ll have to keep an eye out for that. There’s no point in freedom and independence if I’m going to go crazy.

The slow morning picks up with a vengeance, and I spend most of my time behind the coffee bar. In the time since I started working here, I realized that most of the travel mugs people bring here say things like, Mama Bear and I can’t mom until I’ve had my coffee. They’re usually some sort of glittery ombre.

At some point, Mrs. Elkins had the husky leave the establishment, though it seems to be hanging around every time I check outside. Several customers try to pet her, but she just sits like a stoic little dog statue