The Monster I Made

ENA

creek bank, my stomach heaving as I

it

tting my wolf slip once, only to lose my head for three secon

e, his left hand clamped over his neck while h

e of his truck. My heart is hammering against my ribs so hard I can barely br

ingle, sharp shake. "You walk me into River Ash with your bite mark

Grace does to me

s hand away from his collar and tilts

ree

ds where my fangs sank in are gone. The torn flesh has already knitted

Even an Elder wolf takes two days to heal a throat wound. Humans

" Bass says grimly, glancing toward the mangled rogue lying ten feet

. "Ten minutes. Cole's cousin has the northern

pound dead rogue by the scruff of its neck with one hand, and hurl

s a heavyweight fighter, and Bass j

umbles, catching himself against the side of the truck

n his temples despit

passenger door open. "Take the back dirt road to m

eel, kill the headlights, and spin

from two feet away, like sitting next to a furnace. He squeezes his eyes shut,

say, pressing the ga

sn't supposed to

he grits out throu

g is just-

ac

f the grab-handle snaps cl

m, then drops it to the floorboard. Neither of us say

, jump out, and help Bass stumble into his old wooden tool shed. The secon

against the o

teen of water and a clean rag from the shelf. "L

blue flannel over his h

wet rag drippin

ht shoulder. Instead, his muscular back and chest are c

g else is movin

nt scar of my bite mark, his veins are bulging-black as

forward, fear tig

nd he slams both hands down onto the two-inch-thick oak workbench

l rattle against their hooks. He presses the heels of his hands against his temples, his chest heaving. "Morena, my head-I c

, trying to pull his hands away from his head. To

teeth grind. "Snow covered in blood. Wolves the size of horses

hat don't belong to the twenty-o

f my scarred, calloused hands. When I'm panicking between rounds in the ring, there's only one thing that brings my heart r

yelids f

art s

Blazing back at me is a ring of ancient, predatory gold and when his han

. The thing staring out from behind his eyes isn't human, and it

nch even as his grip bruises my bones

s flickers, receding just a fraction as my Bass fights his way b

around my bruised wrists and snatches the

ring at his own trembling hands. "Morena, what the hell is happening to me? Why am I seeing p

ng my aching wrists. "Whatever my bite did

es crunch on the gravel dri

f us f

heavy, measured thud of the second car door shutting, or t

y mother

's cheerful voice floats across the ya

m the market-she says they found a dead wolf down by t

turns to

n Betty's back porch, fifty feet away, wearing her black enforcer unif

the wind, her nostrils flarin

ocently from the doorwa

yes locking straight onto the closed door of