I had decided to take a long run before I needed to be at the office and as usual, I headed to a spot that I considered my own. So, it was a bit of surprise to see a naked woman lounging in the same place as I came out of the tree line that overlooked the ledge. I looked around and didn't see any clothes nearby and when I lifted my nose to scent the wind, it was blowing in the wrong direction so I couldn't tell if she was a werewolf. My eyes roamed over her body, slowly, taking her in, and I felt my heart constrict as something stirred deep within me. Something that I hadn't felt for a very long time. Her blonde hair shimmered in the sunlight and I immediately noticed that half of her hair was gone, shaved. She had scars there and I tilted my head curiously wondering what could have happened. She was facing outwards, so I could only see her face in profile, but from what I could see, I could tell that her face was attractive. My eyes roamed lower and my breath caught again as I took in the fullness of her breasts and the muscles of her abdomen to the roundness of her hips. I swallowed thickly as I continued downward and admired the play of her leg muscles as they rippled underneath her skin, skin that showed absolutely no tan lines which meant that she was prone to sunbathe in the nude. Simply said, she was breathtakingly beautiful.

I continued to watch her as she stared out over the valley and it brought a smile to my face, knowing that she seemed to enjoy it as much as I did. I felt a flicker of concern as I watched her rub her left shoulder absently and saw her wince in pain as she did. It looked like her head hadn't been the only thing to suffer an injury. She brought her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and laid her head on her knees. Her face was turned toward me and I was finally allowed to view her face that wasn't only attractive, but also captivating. Her eyes were closed and I wished for a moment that she would open them, so that I could find out what color her eyes were. They remained, unfortunately, steadfastly closed and I let out a very low growl in frustration.

Her head snapped up and her eyes opened wide as she looked around her worriedly. In a flash, she was gone and I could have sworn that I glimpsed a golden hide as it disappeared beneath the trees. I sat there dumbfounded and then even more so when I realized her eyes had been a nearly electrifying blue. In that moment, I came to the conclusion that I had just met Clarke and that it looked like she and her friends were indeed werewolves.

I shook my head to dispel the effect of seeing her and made my way back home. I shifted as I came to my back door, walking in and heading to the kitchen. I poured myself a large glass of orange juice before I noticed that I wasn't alone. I closed the fridge quietly and made my way to the living room. I leaned against the frame, raising an eyebrow, and took a big swallow of juice.

Lincoln looked up at me, surprised and grinned, "Hey, Boss. Did you have a good run?"

"I did, thank you," I replied. "So, what are you doing here, Lincoln?"

"I wanted to tell you that there were two more arrivals at the house yesterday," he said as he leaned back in his chair. "They look like siblings."

"And this couldn't have waited until I got into the office," I said, scoffing. "Lincoln, why are you really here?"

He sighed and said, "I wanted to see how you were doing, Lex. I know how much that property means to you and I just wanted to make sure you were okay. We've been friends for a long time."

I smiled warmly at him and replied, "I'm doing okay, Linc. I'm worried that they might open the box and find out what's inside, but other than that I'm okay."

"Lex," he said, somewhat worriedly, "This morning, I caught the two guys shifting. They're werewolves. Do you think that this is something that the pack needs to be aware of?"

I sighed and swallowed the last of my OJ, "No, not unless twenty of them show up suddenly. No, I think that more than likely they were forced out of their pack or left willingly. They probably decided to settle near a town that was near a pack in hopes of them being a little more open to what we are and blend in more easily. At least, that's what I would do."

He nodded, "You still want me to keep an eye on them? See if any more show up."

"Yes, please," I said, "and now if you don't mind, I'd like a chance to clean up before I go to the office."

He stood up and smiling, said, "Of course. I'll let Anya know if anything else happens."

"Thank you."

He walked quietly out of my front door and I headed up the stairs to get ready for the day.

I walked into the office, my mind still swirling around the image of Clarke's body, and on autopilot I sat behind the desk and opened up my email. My gaze flickered across the headers, not really reading them until two of them caught my eye. One was from the woman who owned the gallery and the other from someone unknown. I opened up the gallery owner's email. It was brief, just stating that she had passed the message on and that Griffin had wanted to contact me herself and the owner gave her my email address. That surprised me because that seemed a little unethical, so I shot off a quick email back to her saying so. I opened up the other one that had caught my eye and was surprised that it was from the artist herself.

I read over it carefully and was surprised to find out that I was the first person to ask for a commissioned painting. She explained a little bit more about why she was currently on sabbatical; she'd recently been in a bad accident and was still recovering from it. That struck a sympathetic cord in me and my mind briefly flashed to the scars on Clarke's head. She was also curious as to what I wanted painted and reiterated the fact that her paintings were landscapes or wolf themed. I thought back to the ledge and realized that I would love to have that view of the small valley from that vantage point in a painting.

Grinning, I emailed her back and said that I was sorry to hear about her accident and wished her a speedy recovery. I also told her that it was indeed a landscape that I wanted done. I asked her what she would need for me once she started painting again to commission the work. I also complimented her on her work and even told her that I fell in love with one of her paintings and had bought it as soon as I had set my sights on it. It was a little silly, but I really loved her work. I stopped myself from rambling on in the email and sent it off, a soft smile on my lips.

"Well, you're certainly in a good mood this morning," Anya said from the doorway.

I looked up at her and scowled slightly before I felt my lip quirk up in a slight smile. I sighed and said, "It might have something to do with the fact that I caught Clarke naked on my ledge during my run this morning."

Her face became the epitome of surprise as she walked in, closed the door behind her, and sat in a chair directly across from me. I blushed and ducked my head slightly.

"Oh, do tell," she said with a grin.

I gave her a look and clearing my throat, said, "I am not going to lie, she's absolutely gorgeous."

"So, instant attraction," she said with a gleam in her eye.

"Yes. There are no words to describe how beautiful I think she is. There was just something about her and seeing her made me feel something that I haven't felt for a very long time. Not since…"

She nodded and softly said, "Costia."

"Yeah," I said, swallowing around the lump that had found it's way into my throat. "Um, Lincoln said that two more people showed up there yesterday and confirmed that they're werewolves. Which means that they purposefully moved here."

"Is this cause for concern," she asked.

I shook my head, "No. Not yet, anyway. If more show up or if they cross into our land, then we can become more involved. I'm having Lincoln stay and watch the house for anything else."

"That's a good plan. So, is there anything on the agenda that I need to be made aware of?"

I sighed and skimmed over the the emails and was surprised to have already gotten a response back from the artist. I ignored it for a moment and continued looking at the headers and didn't see anything pressing.

"No, nothing pressing, Anya. Just the usual," I replied. "I'll call you if I need anything."

"Oh, speaking of calling," she said and pulled out a small box. "Your new phone and case. It's already been set up and everything. Try and be more gentle this time, would ya?"

I smiled as I took the box and replied, "I'll try, but I make no promises. I'll talk with you later, yeah?"

She chuckled, "Alright, I get the message. I'll check on you later."

She was still chuckling when she walked out the door and I immediately clicked on the email, almost eagerly. The artist known as Griffin thanked me for the well wishes and was glad to meet a fan, even if it was only through email. She asked me what it was about the painting that had drawn me to it and prompted me into buying it. She told me that she could probably do the commissioned painting from photographs, but she much preferred going to the sight and doing some preliminary sketches before she painted. As to how much it would cost, that was open for debate. She wanted to know how large I wanted it, if there was a particular season that the landscape should be featured in, and so on. She ended it by saying that she was looking forward from hearing from me and that she was eager to take this step forward.

I turned my attention to the painting over the fireplace and thought about why I loved it. I mean, I really did love it. With each stroke of the brush, I could tell how much affection she had for the wolves and the forest that edged around them. There was so much joy and happiness in the wolves, that you couldn't help but feel the same way when you looked at them. There was a story behind the painting. It was really a snapshot of a memory that the artist seemed to remember fondly. I didn't know if the wolves represented the people in her life or if she had encountered this somewhere in her past. I just knew that there was a story and that it was breathtaking.

I cleared my throat and sent a reply. Telling her exactly what I felt about the painting and I hoped that she liked what I said.