Page 43 of A Wolfe in the Woods

The name hit like a dagger in the gut, but it helped center me. Her voice in the dark. Her laugh. The way her heartbeat had caught in my ears when she’d nearly fallen. I’d walked her back.

But after, everything was a blur.

I clenched my jaw, running a hand through my hair. This wasn’t supposed to be happening anymore. I was supposed to have control. I had been managing it, hadn’t shifted without wanting to in some time now. Not like this, without warning, violently.

Water. I needed water. I was dehydrated.

I stumbled to the bathroom sink and twisted the tap with trembling fingers. The pipes groaned, then a sputter and water began to flow. I drank with both hands like an animal, fast, letting some run down my chin.

The water was cold and sharp, helping to chase away the taste of metallic blood. I braced against the counter, shoulders heaving. My reflection in the mirror met me like a stranger with bloodshot eyes.

I had gone to her door again.

Not out of choice. Not consciously. Something in me had sought her out. Maybe the beast in me thought she’d bring me the peace I’d desperately searched for, like I was orbiting her without realizing it.

But what if it changed? What if next time I wasn’t just pacing the edge of the woods? What if I didn’t only stop at her door?

I pressed my forehead to the edge of the medicine cabinet. The wood was cool. Solid. Real.

Get a grip,I ordered myself.

I needed to check the perimeter. Clean up the cabin. Maybe eat something. Put things back in order.

Routine steadied me. Logic steadied me. And gods knew I needed that right now more than anything. Because if I didn’t…if I slipped again…

It would be like that night in Graymore. The alley. The blood. The man I’d nearly killed.

He’d been hurting someone. A woman. I still heard her screams and sobs.

But once I’d gotten him off her…I hadn’t stopped.

I’d torn into him.

And when I’d come to, he’d still been breathing—but barely.

I convinced myself it was merely justice.

But deep down, I knew better.

I hadenjoyedit.

The woman had run from me too, scared pale of the beast now covered in blood. Maybe she’d been evenmorefrightened of me.

Shifting always hurt. Blood coursed like fire through veins, nerves lit up, and everything swelled. But in that pain of the body tearing itself apart and being reborn, came a twisted sense of relief. Because when I let go and freely gave myself over to desire inside, I didn’t have to fight anymore. I didn’t have to think. I just became what I was, what I’d been born to be.

That was the truth that sometimes haunted me.

I found a pair of jeans and pulled them on. My skin was raw in places, scraped from bark and gravel.

I’d gone to her cabin again. I could still smell her—lavender, firewood, faint vanilla from those tarts May loved baking.

I hadn’t hurt her.

Not yet, at least,I thought bitterly, feeling the whipping of anger rise.

I didn’t trust my shifted form. Never had.

That part of me was clawing closer to the surface. Too close.