Page 74 of The Reveal
Then immediately wish that I kept them closed, because the biggest wolf I’ve ever seen comes loping up the trail, all fangs and claws and a head that looks large enough to gulp down the two of us like a couple of pieces of candy. If that.
He’s enormous. I’m pretty sure he’s as big as my truck, but he moves like fear and dread. Silent and focused, death on four massive paws.
And when he sees us waiting there on the trail in front of him, he bares his ferocious teeth.
Then growls.
18.
I don’t see Maddox change this time because I’m too busy gaping in awe and wonder—and what feels like an appropriate level of sheer terror—at what can only be the werewolf alpha in his natural form. When I thought his human form was over the top.
But when Maddox moves to put herself between him and me, she’s human. And wearing clothes. The same clothes she was wearing before, which strikes me as fascinating even with the headache from hell. How do they change in and out of clothes while shifting from one form to the other? Where do they put the clothes while gallivanting about as wolves? I assume this is all part of the magic.
It’s also pretty clear to me that I’m deliberately thinking of anything but the giant wolf prowling toward me with what looks like a lot of sharp-toothed, furry murder on his face.
“Calm down.” Maddox talks to him like he’s a cute little dachshund puppy instead of a monster straight out of a nightmare. “I need your help.”
There’s a flash, and something I feel like a thunderclap deep in my bones, as if the marrow is on fire. Then he’s standing there before us in his slightly less terrifying human form.
I would hide, like any sane person would when faced withanythinghis size—much less awerewolf—but I can’t move. All I can do is sit propped up against the tree while death in numerous forms swirls all around me.
“What fucking games do you think you’re playing?” Ty Ceridwen, the fierce and formidable werewolf alpha, demands.
Happily, not of me.
“I keep telling you that I’m not playing games.” Maddox still sounds like she’s talking to a sweet, domesticated pet, and I wonder if Ty can see that she’s pissed, because I can. Though I sense that probably, he doesn’t care. “Maybe you didn’t notice that it’s a full moon.”
“I notice every fucking full moon, asshole, and guess why? Because every time the full moon rises and there’s no ritual, the more you look like a problem I’m going to have to deal with. And the more I look like a little bitch for not handling you.”
“Nobody thinks you’re a bitch, Ty,” she replies. So sweetly that I wince in anticipation. “They don’t know you as well as I do.”
I expect him to blow up at that, but he laughs. He swaggers closer. Like Maddox, he’s not remotely dressed for running around mountainsides. He’s wearing something very similar to what he was wearing last time I saw him. Jeans. Motorcycle boots. And a black T-shirt because obviously, the cold does not dare mess with Ty Ceridwen.
Apparently, only Maddox dares.
He reaches over and hooks a finger in the collar of the shirt Maddox is wearing and yanks her to him. “I’m sick of this,” he growls at her. “How many times do I have to say that? When are you going to listen?”
“I always listen. Maybe you could try it for a change.” She throws out an arm and points at me. “Winter,” she says, though she doesn’t look in my direction. Because I guess even she isn’t foolish enough to take her eyes off the danger that is Ty. “Where are those cards of yours?”
I would very much like to know how she knows anything about those cards, but I don’t have the strength to ask. I obediently tap the front of my chest, where the cards lodged themselves a few hours back, tucked in tight to my sports bra.
Ty’s laugh this time is lower. Meaner. “Bullshit.”
Maddox keeps holding his gaze, even after he belts that word out. “Show him, Winter.”
I feel profoundly lucid, which is odd, because I also feel weak as fuck. I’m still seriously contemplating taking the nearest rock to the side of my skull. Yet what occurs to me then is that my insistence on trying to understand everything that is happening around me is a hindrance more than anything else. Why would I understand?
I’m surrounded by dynamics, rules, and agreements that have nothing to do with me. All I can do is follow my own gut, and I know that’s not an entirely foolish endeavor, because I’m still alive. Still alive, if not currently kicking, despite my numerous skirmishes with the king of the vampires. Not to mention my current predicament, which involves what feels like a near-death experience some eight thousand feet above sea level, in the company of werewolves.
While the full moon beams down on all of us and Vinca’s disgusting ritual is about to begin.
So obviously, I reach into my shirt and pull out my deck.
I realize as I hold it that it’s the first time I’ve thought of it that way.Mydeck. Not my grandmother’s.Mine.
In my hand, the cards warm. I interpret that as approval.
Like they really did choose me.
