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The beast undulated in the half shadows, its face and back convulsing like an overflowing artery. This shifter didn’t want to explain his actions. Its heaving lasted only for a moment, but from that mass of hide and muscle came a set of claws rushing toward my throat.
My heart thumped in my chest as I sidestepped the attack, my body moving on pure instinct. Adrenaline fueled my every move, granting me a fleeting grace as I dodged the creature’s razoring claws.
My mind raced, desperate for a plan. I couldn’t undertake a full transformation myself lest I reveal my true nature to the woman. I had no weapons, and no backup—just my wits and an unyielding determination to protect this woman whose blood was a siren call I couldn’t ignore.
I dodged and weaved, my movements fueled by a creeping fear. Fear for her. I struck out with only my fists, each blow hitting home, but also further pissing off the beast. His teeth protruded from between his lips, shaggy jaw stretching wider as he began to look more wolf-like in the half-light of the street lamps.
The werewolf, fueled by primal fury, was undeterred by my kicks and punches, and lashed out with elongated limbs and claws much longer than I had anticipated. I felt a searing pain in my arm as the shifter slashed at me, tearing the sleeve of my jacket to ribbons and digging deep into soft flesh.
My shoulder now revealed a spattering of crimson and moonlit skin and the petrified woman gasped at the sight of it.
The mutt had me on the back foot.
Before I could lament the loss of my jacket, or cook up any sort of plan, a mass of teeth, claws and matted fur screamed toward me as the beast went for another attack. I jumped instinctively, kicking down into the werewolf’s face, and thanking the stars that my brief yoga stint had left me with a little bit of grace and a lot of leg muscle.
I landed firmly on my feet, the splash of gravel behind me a reassurance that the shifter’s face hit the dirt hard on the way down. I allowed myself a flash of pride and glanced at my personal damsel in distress. But her eyes were fixed on the groveling beast.
I had ruined a jacket and lost a little bit of blood, but I managed to put myself between the monster and the trembling woman.
Seizing the opportunity, I rushed towards the trembling woman, pulling her to her feet. “Run! Go, get to safety!”
But she shook her head, a glint of burning determination in her eyes. Standing face to face, I realized this woman was slightly taller than me, a lanky, pale figure with cropped blonde hair and watercress eyes. Beautiful in a fleeting sense, and suddenly I couldn’t look away.
She was still trembling beneath my fingers but she jutted out her jaw in a defiant display, determined to join the fight. The twinge in my heart happened again, like the plucking of a violin string, vibrating with a kind of trepidation.
The moment would have been painterly if not for both the woman and I being slammed to the ground by the suddenly upright bloodthirsty mongrel. Instinctively, I grabbed the screaming woman as we fell, shielding her from the snapping teeth above us with one bloodied arm.
With another violent kick, the mutt went flying, slamming into the nearby wall with enough force to chip the concrete. The woman tumbled from my arms and scrambled to her feet, her gaze ping-ponging from me and my shredded arm to the wolf and back again.
She looked a little green.
She raised her fists in a futile attempt to appear formidable, which would have been laughable were the situation not so dire. But she had caught the monster’s attention. The werewolf turned its yellow eyes on her, its growls reverberating through the alley. Sharp teeth glinted in the dim light, its claws lengthening as it stalked closer.
I followed her eyes to the rusty pipe lying in the shadows of the alley and couldn’t stifle my shriek when she darted toward it, narrowly avoiding the shifter’s claws. The makeshift weapon looked heavy and impossibly large in comparison to the slim woman, but she swung it through the air, seemingly to intimidate the werewolf and create a diversion.
To my surprise, the creature hesitated, a momentary pause in its aggression. It seemed taken aback by the display of boldness and the makeshift weapon she wielded. But primal instincts overcame practical ones, and it lunged at her with a guttural roar.
With what looked like all her strength, the woman swung the pipe at the werewolf, connecting with a resounding thud. The impact halted the creature and it staggered backward with a low growl, the bonk to the temple leaving it disoriented and momentarily dazed.
I saw my opening and took it, launching myself onto the shifter’s back. My jaw opened wide, my pointed fangs finally making an appearance as I snarled, biting down into the shifter’s thick, shaggy neck.
I could feel it, all of it. As I sunk my teeth into the man who was no longer a man I could feel the torrent as my fangs pierced his jugular. It ran down my chin and neck, my breathing nearly smothered by the stench of this creature’s fur. I felt its strength depleting, my initial bite met with an immediate shudder. A death rattle no doubt. I could feel it reaching for me desperately as I pinned it down, it almost felt like it wished to hold me.
With a triumphant roar, I tore the slathering shifter’s head from his body, holding it up high like a gruesome trophy. Fresh blood trickled down my arm, my fangs sharp in my mouth as my eyes moved to meet the stricken stare of the woman standing before me.
She stood frozen like a deer caught in headlights, staring at me with an expression of pure terror.
Too late did I realize my mistake, realize just how monstrous I looked in that moment. To her, the shifter might have made better company after all.
I tried to retract my fangs but the smell of the woman’s blood was overpowering and my damning canines stayed put. I stared back at her, red eyes burning bright in the shadows, scrambling for control over my senses and fighting the urge to take her in my arms or to bite her, or both.
Before I could move, she dropped the rusting piece of pipe and took off, sprinting past me like she had the devil on her heels. I tried to call out for her but my words died on my lips—nothing I could say would pause her step. She disappeared out of the alleyway and I listened to her retreating footsteps fade.
The ache of her departure confirmed my suspicions, and for once I was none too happy about being right.
After all this time I had found my mate. And she was terrified of me.
Chapter 2
