It is as though I am being pulled along on an invisible string, as though my bones have been magnetized. I am not typically swift-footed, but today, I fly through the firs that share their name with this county, and my pack. Surprisingly, my father is able to keep up with me. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I tend to think of him as an old man, and he is certainly as gentle and polite as one, but he is only nineteen years older than me. He might be past his absolute prime, but he is still plenty capable of a good run.

Ordinarily, I would try to catch our reflection in a pond or puddle. I love seeing my wolf form beside that of either of my parents. Our black fur is thinner, softer, and sleeker than those of our pack members. Our faces are narrow, our eyes shaped similarly to those of our human forms. In actual wolves, there is really no biological difference between the wolves found in Vietnam and the ones in Europe, but werewolf forms deeply resemble our human forms. I've always found this fascinating, but tonight, I really couldn't care less what I look like or who I am with.

I realize that I know where we are going. Up around the edge of a mountain, heading toward the outskirts of Roseburg proper, where the residential neighborhoods begin. My heart sinks, because I know this particular neighborhood well. It is Julia's.

I catch a refreshed wave of the scent and stop caring. I race through the woods, which are deceptively sunny considering how cold it is.

Ethan, stop. Shift, my father says over our mindlink. I want to argue against him, but he is right. We are too close to civilization to be in our wolf forms.

He shifts back first, not even a little winded from the run. I watch as his wolf form changes, shifts fluidly into his human form, as though the muscle and fur of the wolf simply melted upward to create the man. He straightens the collar over his sweater, then says something and gestures to me. We can't understand language well in our wolf forms, besides the mindlinks, so I don't know what he says, but I can infer from the gesture.

I shift back. I take a moment to stretch my arms, feeling warmth in them from the run. I look back. I think we just ran about eight miles. Took us less than twenty minutes. That same run would have taken over an hour in my human form, and I'd be completely wrecked by the end of it.

I walk through the woods, grateful they are thick enough, filled with rises and pitfalls on earth, clogs of blackberry brambles, and sheets of deciduous trees struggling against their much larger coniferous cousins.

We reach a tall wooden fence that separates us from someone's backyard. I follow the fence down, grateful it is wood instead of chain link. I'm almost certain that we'd get the police called on us for loitering around in the forest behind people's houses if we were spotted.

Another wave of the scent hits me. I trip, and my dad has to catch me, grabbing me by the arm.

"This is it?" he whispers, setting me on my feet again.

I look at the fence, tempted to climb it to get closer to my mate.

"Ethan—" my father begins, a worried expression on his face. He keeps his hand on my shoulder, perhaps knowing that I want to climb the fence. I have just enough sense left to keep my feet on the ground, but I peer through a crack in the fence.

A tidy, well-manicured back lawn lies between me and a house. It's a light gray house with two stories. There are four windows visible to me. Somehow, I know that the two windows on the bottom floor look into the kitchen and the living room. I'm not sure what part of my brain is telling me that.

There are two windows in the second story. One has its blinds pulled, no light behind it. The other is thrown wide open, allowing a clear view of its occupant.

My soulmate stands with their back to me, curling a handheld dumbbell. It's on the larger side, maybe fifteen pounds or so. Their exertion, the moisture of sweat on their skin, makes their scent completely overwhelming. Still, it is far from unpleasant. Weirdly, this person's sweat might be the most incredible thing I've ever smelled.

The person turns, and I see their face.

His face.

"Ethan," my father says again, his tone incredulous.

Somewhere, in the back of my mind, my world is ending. This is impossible. A cruel, cruel trick of the Ancient Idols to punish me for sins I didn't know I committed. In the back of my mind, I am horrified by how many people I'm going to ruin by loving him. In the back of my mind, I think I am dying.

In the front of my mind, I am overjoyed. My soulmate is so beautiful. So wonderful. All of the traits of him that have annoyed me over the years turn from frustrating to charming. His vulgarity becomes a good sense of humor. His teasing of his sister becomes brotherly protectiveness. His arrogance becomes self-confidence.

Idols above, he is perfect. Not just his spirit. His body is perfect, too. Average height, a couple inches taller than me. Fit, but not obnoxiously muscled. The body of someone who takes care of himself but doesn't care to look like the Hulk. His curly hair is that strange tone between blond and brown, where it shines golden in the sunlight but looks black when it's wet. His skin is tanner than his sister's from more time in the sun.

My soulmate.

Tyler Rhodes.

Julia's older brother.