He shifted quickly, shivering when the night air hit his bare, human skin. Shit, he needed to go get his boots. His sneakers were great for a jog, but so not impressive when facing a crowd. He could just go. This wasn’t his circus. The monkeys would be fine without him. All he had to stop for was his clothes. Something made him turn toward the bar, though, where all the barflies were pouring out and trudging down a dirt track toward the sleepiest little village he’d ever seen. The place looked like something out of Grimm’s fairy tales, not a real American town. Ah, fuck it. Twenty minutes of pointing at some dude and abdicating his “Alpha” status and Rand could be on his way, right? Right. He followed the crowd to a long, low building that resembled a Swiss ski lodge, all hand carved lintels and crossed timbers. Cute place, and it sure had enough forest around to make Rand happy. Not that he was staying. He didn’t do packs and quaint towns that time forgot.
