Sliver of Silver (Blushing Death) by Suzanne M. Sabol

Jackson’s eyes flashed the emerald green of his wolf, I flicked my thumb and unclicked the safety. The shit was about to hit the fan and my trigger finger itched to squeeze.
    “See,” Jackson snickered. “She runs from me, afraid. She’s no Alpha,” he said with a chuckle-laced growl rumbling in the back of his throat. Jackson took another step in my direction. “She isn’t dominant. Not to me, not to any of us. There is no Eithina!” he snarled.
    He took a step to the right and so did I. Jackson took another step to the left and so did I.
    I matched him step for step until he realized I was blocking his path. He narrowed those emerald green eyes on me and reflected a violent rage that made my pulse race so fast I could taste it on my tongue. I wanted him to try it. I really, really wanted him to make that first move so I could shoot him. Killing him here and now would wrap everything up in a pretty little package.
    “Enough,” Dean barked. He grabbed Jackson by the scruff of his neck and threw him hard into the crowd. The Pack parted, scattering left and right, leaving Jackson to land on his back with a crash that sounded like a felled tree. He’d broken a few bones at least. I’d heard them snap and couldn’t keep the smile from my face.
    Tag scampered away on hands and knees, creating the distinct image in my mind of a tail between his legs as he moved. Dean turned to the waiting eyes of his Pack, their gazes focused on Dean and Dean alone.
    “I will NOT tolerate disobedience. Challenge me or don’t, but this ends now!” Dean’s voice boomed in the open field, carrying over the distance through the darkness and resonating someplace deep in me that was primal and familiar. I shivered as his voice wrapped around me like an electric blanket set too high.
    Jackson’s pain-filled groans near the edge of the tree line whispered through the silence as the Pack shrunk away from their Gaoh. I slid the gun back into its holster at my back as a single howl broke out in the back, trumpeting obedience. One by one, they joined in the low, slightly off-key chorus until a beautiful song filled the night’s sky, ringing through the Pack like a symphony. When Dean’s low baritone sounded beside me, it seemed to fill the missing gap in their song. A warm, full feeling washed over me, like being home at Christmas time or cleaning my gun.
    Dean trailed off his deep howl and the entire pack followed. In a flurry of movement, shirts, shoes, pants, and everything in-between flew into the air. The corners of Dean’s mouth turned up in a content little grin, when he thought no one was looking, as he watched his Pack transform.
    The first sounds of groaning billowed up to my ears from the back of the group as, one by one, they shifted. It was close to the full moon and the change would be less painful for many as the moon called the wolf in their bodies to the surface, eager and wanting to be free. Their bodies contorted, their muscles and bones moving beneath the surface as fur shot through their skin in patches.
    Danny’s change had been so quick that I never really got a good look at the process. Some were just as fast as Danny had been, others were painfully slow. It wasn’t pretty. Bones cracked and realigned under the skin, fur forced its way through hair follicles that were too small, and claws burst from fingertips until their hands became small rounded paws. It was hideous and beautiful all at the same time.
    Dean stood beside me until the very last one was changed and sitting at attention. He made a wide sweep of his arm and the entire pack took off at a sprint across the fields and into the acres and acres of trees, howling in chorus as the hunt began. The sound of their contentment resonated in their united voices as they sang to the moon.
    Dean stood beside me, still in human form and completely clothed. He watched them like a parent watches his children play, proud and anxious.
    “Aren’t you going with