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My wolf?
The thought whips through my mind, and suddenly, I’m sure I’m right. It’s my wolf. She must’ve finally been called by the onslaught of extreme emotions, by the attention that’s been lavished on me by the four alphas who all claim me as their mate.
I try to say something, but the same muffled sound I heard from Ridge comes out of my mouth too, as if my brain has stopped processing words altogether. But all four men look down at me anyway, drawn by whatever noise I just made.
I expect them to look happy.
My wolf is coming, just like they hoped it would.
I expect them to be pleased.
But as they stare down at me, each one of their faces morphs into a mask of surprise and horror.
Why? I don’t understand.
The feeling inside me is expanding faster now. I can almost feel it pressing against my skin, pushing against the confines of my body. And then…
The scars crisscrossing my body begin to turn a deep, pure black, as if ink is seeping out of my skin and filling in the cracks.
My heart crashes against my ribs as I look down at myself, holding up my arms in horror.
This isn’t how the change goes. I’ve seen these men shift into wolves dozens of times by now, and it never looks like this.
What is happening?
As if the thing inside me is spurred on by my rising panic, dark smoke begins to pour from my fingertips, and the men gathered around me jerk back in surprise.
Dare’s chocolate brown eyes meet mine, and for a moment, he just stares at me. Then he opens his mouth, and this time, I do hear the words he chokes out. Even if I wish I didn’t.
“What the fuck?” He shakes his head, his nostrils flaring as he backs away. “Jesus, Sable. You’re not a fucking wolf. You’re a witch.”
***
