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No, no, no. I shove at the wolf’s control over us, trying to take it back. He can’t claim her, of all women. He can’t want a fucking witch.
He bats my attempts away with ease, completely ignoring me.
She still struggles, her hand pushing weakly at our head.
His teeth snag on the chain around her neck, and for a moment I think he’s going to snap it off. But then a burning sensation rips through us, the worst pain I’ve ever felt.
The shift is forced on me.
I don’t know the last time I’ve had that happen either.
My bones shorten, my fur recedes into smooth skin, and the burning fades. It takes me too long to realize that I’m back in control of my body and my mind.
And I’m lying naked on top of the witch.
I go completely still, rising only enough so I’m not making out with her collarbone. Waves of revulsion and anger course through me, but I can’t tell who I’m more upset at—her or my wolf.
The witch, unbothered by my change, pushes at my chest. “Get off.”
I narrow my eyes, but I don’t trust myself to speak. My wolf is fucking ecstatic that I haven’t moved. He’s restless under my skin—and I don’t trust him to reemerge. He wants her, that much is clear. And he’s making my body react to the witch, too. My blood is too hot; my skin tingles in an unfamiliar way.
But the why is a mystery.
Just like her.
Something tugs at my legs. My eyes go wide a second before I’m yanked off the witch. I go upside down, dangling by a fucking vine by my ankles.
“What the fuck?” I roar.
She scuttles backward and slowly stands. She holds her palm to the wound on her neck, letting out a low hiss of pain. “You made it worse.”
It was already fucking bleeding when we found her.
I reach up and yank at the vines. They’re thick and unyielding, and I take out my frustration on them. Nothing works. Tonight seems like a night for new experiences.
Shift, my wolf suggests. We’ll take her far from here.
I flop, hanging upside down. My hair brushes the grass. She hasn’t retreated, though. She’s still staring at me with a mixture of horror and curiosity.
“My wolf wants back out.” My voice rasps. It always does after the shift. My vocal cords take a second to catch back up to our human form. “I don’t think you want that, witch.”
She crouches in front of me and presses her palm to my chest. Little zaps of electricity go through me. I don’t know what the fuck she’s thinking or what she’s trying to do. Stop my heart? Kill me when she thinks I’m helpless?
Rage bursts through me. I shove her away from me as hard as I can. She stumbles and falls backward, her brows coming together. She’s a mess, with blood running down her collarbone and into her sweatshirt. Her black Mark is similar to the vines she cast, spreading up her neck and jaw, into her hairline. It’s the most obvious Mark I’ve ever seen, and it just makes the revulsion in me that much worse.
The only reason she’s still breathing is because I need her. The taste of her power is reason enough. She’s got more power than I’ve ever tasted, and with a sureness that I’ve been missing, I acknowledge that she can break the curse. We don’t need the Seer. Just her.
But if this is the game she wants to play—fine.
I shift. My wolf’s legs slip easily through the vines, and we land on our side. I keep myself firmly in control of our mind, lest he do something completely nuts. But he has our physical body. He operates it better anyway.
He rushes her.
She screams again, then spins and runs. Adrenaline sings through us.
My wolf wants the hunt.
He enjoys the chase.
