Page 8 of Forsaken

My fingers spread out, then curl under first. It’s always started that way with me. Then my ribs, my legs. The sound of bones breaking filters through my ears as fur sprouts over my arms, rippling underneath the surface, then growing at an alarming rate until my body doubles over, paws hitting the ground instead of hands.

I retreat into a small section of my wolf as she takes over. I can hear her, feel her, but it’s like sitting in the backseat while someone else manipulates the wheel. That’s what I need right now—someone else to drive for a while so I can think.

My wolf shakes, brown fur billowing. She paws the door open, and as soon as it slams closed, she lifts her muzzle into the air and howls. Pain and agony cement in our bones. She’s more connected to our pack than I am right now, and this news has hit her like a battering ram to the chest. What she can’t say with words, she says with yelps and howls until she takes off. Her claws dig through the green grass; muscles stretch and thrum with the feeling of being used.

She tears through the tree line and veers left. We’ve been at the academy for so long that we know these woods in our soul. We only have a few acres to run before we’re in Lunar Pack territory, a forbidden territory for someone like me. Thank goodness we’ve explored this area for so long that we know where all the good—and safe—areas are.

My wolf and I must be on the same page because she heads toward our secret place. She drives forward, the rocky peak in the distance small and then hidden completely from view when she enters the tall, forest trees. She keeps running, jumping over fallen limbs and bushes, streams and rocks, until she gets to the base of the hill. Leaping onto the first rock, she digs her paws in as she climbs upward.

The closer we get to the top, the more the sun shines through the canopy of trees above us, glittering on the dew-laden grass. Striations of rock peek between the ground foliage until she bursts through the last set of trees and comes to a halt on top of the flat hill. It’s not a huge space, maybe a swimming pool size, but what I like most is the view from the top. It’s breathtaking. My wolf and I feel one with nature when we’re up here. We feel like we have a purpose.

We feel...free.

4

My wolf sniffs the air, taking in the scent of the forest below: dirt, the trees, and believe it or not, Greystone Academy itself. The aroma of mixed shifters hits my wolf’s nostrils, making her nose scrunch. We love the smell of Daybreak shifters. The others are tolerable. It’s not like they smell bad, but when we’re next to a Daybreak shifter, we smell home.

Closing her eyes, my wolf shuts everything else out, picking up the scent of Daybreak. It makes her howl long and hard. She misses her home. She misses her people. This is not the life she signed up for when she first came out last year. I still remember her exhilaration. The shifter blood coursing through us until nature took over, shifting for the first time ever.

Both of us stop the memory before Sean comes into play. It’s not something we like to dwell on.

My wolf’s nose moves as she picks up the scent again, only this time it’s stronger. A branch breaks in the distance, and my wolf crouches into stealth mode. A flurry of movement advances from our right, along with paws thumping against the ground. She shakes her head. My panic rises for a split second before I realize it was an actual Daybreak pack member she was smelling and not just a memory she was holding onto.

Nathan’s black wolf bounds into view, tongue hanging out of his mouth. He tilts his head to the side as if to ask what we’re doing. He and I come up here to talk. It turns out, when the mates who are rightfully yours are probably fucking, you have a lot in common.

He moves forward, and my wolf settles down onto her hind legs as she waits for him to approach. He brushes his head against hers, and a warmth flows through us.

Shift?

I nod inside her, knowing she’ll be able to feel my thoughts like I can hers. She throws her head back at the same time the shift begins. I cringe as I’m propelled to the front again. I’ve always found shifting out of my wolf form the most jarring, like I’m being shot through hyperspace. Before I know it, the fur has receded and I spy my creamy white skin once more. I stand, straightening my back until I realize I didn’t bring clothes with me.

My face blooms red as I take off for the nearest tree to hide behind. It isn’t a particularly big tree, so it’s not hiding much. “Like I haven’t seen you before,” Nathan says, voice warm. “Here.”

A white shirt drops onto a small branch in front of me. I pick it up, turn it right side out, then pull it over my head before I face Nathan.

My wolf settles happily inside me, contentment making me think of her lying down with her tail swooshing from side to side.

“Forgot my clothes again,” I say as Nathan buttons the top of his jeans. He’s shirtless, standing before me, a smear of mud running from his shoulder into his patch of black chest hair. His muscles ripple with his movements, and I have to tell myself not to stare.

Nathan cuts through all the bullshit. “What’s wrong? You howled, then Nadia told me Ms. Ebon wanted to see you. Is it about Kinsey?”

I shake my head. “No, it’s not about her. It’s about me.”

He narrows his scrutinizing gaze. Part of me doesn’t want to say anything to him because if I’m going through this, he’s next. I got here only a couple of months before Nathan. But as much as I’d like to spare him, I know I won’t be able to.

I bite my cheek before pressing my lips together as I glance up at his blue eyes. “They’re giving Sean and I a timeline,” I inform him. “I have two weeks.”

Surprise ricochets through him, apparent by his look of pure confusion followed quickly by contempt. “Two weeks? Sean?”

I nod. “Lydia Greystone. She’s giving me two weeks for Sean to accept me or I’m going Feral.”

“No,” Nathan fumes, hands clenching to fists.

“I don’t think I really have a choice.” I release a humorless chuckle, though nothing about this is funny. I have a time limit on the day I’ll lose everything. It’s not exactly how one wants to live. I’d rather have a countdown to pizza or dessert.

“They can’t do that.”

“Pretty sure they can.”

---