For about three seconds I'm at eye level with the portion of Derek's anatomy I just spent the past highly awkward few minutes trying not to look at. And it's really no less intimidating through the eyes of a walk.

Though, maybe 'intimidating' isn't really the right word. Maybe 'delicious?'

Goodness, I really need to stop thinking about this.

It gets easier when Derek crouches in front of me, brings his face close to mine and I know it has to be the wolf instinct inside me, but I'm suddenly compelled to lick his face. So I do. His stubble scratches my tongue, but it mostly feels and tastes nice and I know my tail's wagging.

Oh my gosh, I have a tail.

I immediately whip around to see it, the making out the light fluff there and on the rest of me before tipping my head back to look up at Derek. I don't know if he can understand me, but I can understand him. He's taking our picture now and it's impossible not to nuzzle up closer, his skin warm against my cold, wet nose. I like him again, right on the chin and try to answer his question with an enthusiastic, "Yes!"

Only it comes out as a yip. And I don't even care. Is this what it feels like to be a wolf all the time? Warm and sure and powerful? Gosh, no wonder he spent so much of his time in that other Darrow in this form. I would've, too!