Page 11 of Moon Destiny

And my neck, which had most certainly been ripped apart during the attack at the Gorge, was totally fine. Because I was a werewolf now. What the fuck? An image of Hugh’s transformation flashed in my mind. Was I going to sprout fur like that? It was inevitable, right?

Why wasn’t I freaking out right now?

As soon as I thought it, my heart sped up and a cold sweat broke out across my skin.

“Don’t freak out,” I whispered to my reflection.

“One minute, Brooke,” Hugh rumbled on the other side of the door.

I whirled, my throat going dry. Later, I could lose my shit. Or maybe I’d fall asleep and then wake and realize this was all a bad dream.

Yes. That made sense. I was in a coma right now, hallucinating all of this. That explanation was a lot easier to swallow than “my boyfriend’s father turned me into a werewolf.”

You’re fooling yourself, a voice in my head whispered. You saw the wolf with your own eyes.

Shut up, I told it.

Great. Now I was hearing voices—and arguing with them.

I drew a steadying breath. Whatever was happening to me, I was determined to survive it. And that meant playing along until I found a way to get out of this mess and back to Seattle.

With a final glance in the mirror, I went to the door and wrenched it open.

Hugh stood at the foot of the bed looking huge and impatient with his arms folded over his broad chest. His gaze moved swiftly down my body, and a muscle in his jaw twitched before he looked away. “Let’s go. The pack is waiting.”

“I don’t have any shoes.”

“You don’t need them. Shifters aren’t ones to stand on ceremony. You’ll probably see more than a few pack members in sweats just like yours, assuming they ran here.” He went to the door and opened it.

The thought of meeting other shifters was intimidating enough to make me forget about the shoes—and I definitely wasn’t going to mention my lack of a bra or underwear. The sweats were thick and boxy, which was better than nothing.

Besides, it seemed petty to worry about my appearance when Hugh was ready to bury his son. I slipped past him and into a spacious hallway lined with doors. Like the bedroom, this part of the house was decorated in tasteful, muted tones.

The style continued as Hugh led me downstairs and through a lower level that boasted an understated elegance only the truly wealthy could afford. I got a glimpse of a gleaming, modern kitchen, and then we were stepping onto a spacious patio bathed in the purple shadows of dusk.

And there were dozens of people waiting for us. They turned, their gazes locking onto me.

My nape prickled. At a glance, there appeared to be more men than women. Other than being fit and youthful looking, there was nothing to mark them as werewolves. But somehow I just knew. The awareness shivered over my skin and seeped into my bones. Their regard had a weight to it, and it was almost like I could feel their gazes pushing against me. The pressure grew—an invisible force that prodded and shoved, battering at my mind and body. Here and there, some of their eyes lightened…and then glowed.

And, suddenly, it was too much. My chest tightened. I tensed, braced to turn and run.

Hugh put a big hand on the back of my neck.

Immediately, the tension eased. A sense of wellbeing spread through me, flowing from his hand in a warm current. Evergreen and leather teased my nose.

Somewhere in my brain, I knew I should shrug out of his possessive grip. He had no right to touch me this way. But it was too hard to drag up a protest with pleasure sparkling along my veins like champagne.

He addressed the group, his voice vibrating with authority. “This is Brooke Ratner. She’s mine. I sired her, and she’s under my protection.”

Everyone lowered their eyes.

I didn’t have a chance to gape at their response—or Hugh’s archaic declaration—because he moved us forward and into the deepening night. He kept his hand where it was, steering me through the crowd, which melted aside like he was Moses parting the Red Sea. The patio under my feet turned to grass, and then we were on a wide stretch of lawn bordered by soaring trees. Stars scattered across a purple sky, and a crescent moon cast a soft, silvery glow over the grass. Straight ahead was a wooden structure built up almost like an altar…

My stomach dropped

Alex lay in the center, his body covered with a white sheet. Only his head was visible. His face was ashen, the spark of life glaringly absent.

I stopped in my tracks, a strangled gasp in my throat.

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