  Pressing his knuckle to his lip, he chewed lightly at the inside of his lip. His gaze went to squint at the moon, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. At this point, full moons came easier, went by quicker. He could blink and the night would be dawn. No longer did he suffer from altering into his werewolf form because he could now rely on an anchor.Â
  However, there were nights were he would set out into the wooded areas of Beacon Hills in case a touchy-couple or angst-prone preteen slipped into the forest and went to dance with an omega who hadnât learned control. Isaac wouldnât mind saving a life or two -- afterall, Derek had technically saved his with the bite.Â
  Isaac scuffed his shoe on the moist soil before straightening from the tree he rested against. His sense of hearing honed in on a set of shoes pattering along the forest floor. He pursed his lips and glanced toward the source.
   âI wouldnât be out here, if I were you.â
