Page 28 of UNAwere

But you wanted me to fight you.

I only wanted to see if you had it in you. His blood drips down onto my face, and I blink.

He grunts and gets off me. I lie on the ground, listening to him pad away, unable to move. Unable to believe what I just did.

That wasn’t me.

When I get up, Briggs is already back on two feet and dressed. He’s waiting by my clothes, blood dripping down his throat. But he’s watching me, face stern.

I approach him, unsure. You’re hurt.

‘I’m fine. I’ll patch it up at the car. Turn back and get dressed.’

I shed my wolf skin the same way I crawled into it. By the time I’m lying naked in the leaves, I’m exhausted and desperately trying to catch my breath.

Briggs is standing with his back to me. His spine is stiff, and he’s still got his arms crossed. I can smell his blood, and it’s like, because I smelt him while in my wolf form, I’m unable to ignore it now. It’s everywhere.

I wipe my chin on the back of my hand, realising I’m covered in his blood.

‘I need to wash.’

‘I have wipes back at the car,’ he says without looking at me.

I get dressed, my hands shaking. ‘I can’t believe I just did that.’

He doesn’t say anything.

‘I’m sorry…’ I’m dressed, and I go to stand beside him to take a closer look at his wound. But he shakes his head and tells me to follow him.

When we reach the car, he opens the back door and pulls out a first-aid kit. He cleans his wound – three puncture marks on his neck – and hands me an alcohol wipe to clean the blood from my mouth.

‘You shouldn’t feel ashamed,’ he says gruffly.

We’ve been driving for almost an hour in silence. And I’ve been sitting in my seat, staring out my window as we zoom past traffic. The sun has gone behind clouds and little drops of rain splatter across the glass in tiny flecks.

‘Why shouldn’t I?’ I murmur. ‘I hurt you.’

‘I told you to fight me. You should be proud that you stepped up to me. I’m a much bigger wolf than you are, Red.’

‘I don’t get why I did,’ I say. ‘I’ve never acted like that with my pack.’

‘Like I said,’ he murmurs, ‘I’m not from your pack. You were being territorial… And you did good.’

I don’t say anything. Even though my mind is racing. Even though I feel like it’s been confirmed to me that this is why I don’t like Turning. Because my wolf self feels too out of control. Too vicious. Too animalistic. Too different to who I am, as a person.

For the first time since I left home, I’m happy to sit in silence.

I’m happy to not say anything.

We make it to a motel, and I’m quick to get into the bathroom and shower.

I turn the water to hot, letting it scorch my skin, and don’t get out until I’m in physical pain. Tears blur my vision, but I suck them back and smooth a hand across the mirror to remove the fog.

The woman staring back at me is me. I try to remind myself of this, as I’m plagued by the memory of drinking Briggs’s blood. Of enjoying the taste of him on my tongue.

I’m not a fighter, and I never will be.

I throw my oversized T-shirt over my head and take my hair out of its bun, leaving it out and flowing down my shoulders. I exit the bathroom, rubbing my face, and crawl into the bed.