bloodlust, alphas with pride thick in their bones,

t scen

prop

most. It's like his wolf

w and wary, whenever he's near, even if "near" is only fl

I should be able t

c I've learned to keep buried. Glamours and suppressants, subtle tricks passed from my m

feel like I'm

y shoulder blades when I walk home after closing, a flicker o

ike a ghost. I tell myself it's nothing. Just nerve

lf isn't

ther is

kwork. Like he's not just watching over me, but w

the cheesy kind but when he does,

e back, sleeves rolled up and that inf

der my arm, "you only offer to help when y

rowding close as I set the last box down

t to smile. "That line won

it'd get me so

, the thrum in my chest that's got nothing to do with nerves. My wolf paces beh

one in?" he asks

ath, and we'll be touching. Another, and I'll

I shove him. Not hard. Ju

, hands raised in surre

be. My fingers tremble slightly w

mean to-"

head. "It

lf," he says

but I don't need

a half-grin, softer this time. "Gu

real bite. He nods once, looking more serious now. "I j

still

now anything

olf's pacing constantly because she's

cia

you're

s through my ch

I admit, barely audible. "Not

tens. "What pack

left after the funeral. Couldn't s

g for a moment. Then:

ild it to be neutral ground. No more

in, this time keeping t

nt solitude," he murmurs.

ch. "C

hored. Marked. Someone st

er. "I don't

rence. Marks bind wolves emotionally, but no

rea

ou think anyone else feels wh

s in from the front, apron askew

llow

ar noise. No vampires fig

. No promises. Just that ever-present intensity

***

th I always take. Moon high. Streets empty. That same itch craw

. Wolves. Young. Aggressive. Reeking of swea

st

s ask

en," one growls. "Your fathe

inside me. I

ng g

rus

renaline screaming in my veins. I fight hard. Dirt

see it. A silver-laced net, old school and letha

th

d gra

. So

too

t burns. My knees buckle. I

he haze of pa

na

try to speak. Ask why. Demand answers. But the world's already going dark.