airio

my feet sank into the wet grass, watch

the two dead wolves began to fad

remely violent and dark e

ffocating and heavy. A feeling I couldn't run from, unless I wen

feel as feeble and docile as a hu

ht was di

I could track every singl

l the stench of blood cooling in the dead wolves, and beneath th

check if she was running a fever, th

closer, I smelled the lo

ti

ew feet away, his breath

thudding against his ri

was the roar of the rain and the d

sky, briefly illuminatin

ll it all without fe

a sharp int

red, his voice trembling and

ttention was entirely

of black ink in the wet grass, and I

before feeling its dampness on the ba

a lon

tticus's voice cracked, rising

d just behind me. I could feel the heat of his anxi

ing, naked and drenched in blood under the storm, standi

my madness. She had touched me when I was at m

ea was ludicrous, a violation of the sacred

line, and she was nothing more than a st

presence could call forth a primal desire in a Lycan or other, a hunger not unlike the way our raw power could hypnotize

juries begin to heal and the dark

e energy out of her. That sh

pposed to

in the back of my throat, but it was quickly

r. Surviving that, and the way my own wounds ha

nally spoke to Atticus as