Page 18 of Howling
Nibbling on my lip, I debate the wisdom of staying longer. It would only endanger them more, but I can’t make myself leave just yet.
I push back my stool and stand, carefully striding toward the beast’s side. The others fall silent, tension rising as I approach the animal. Though the man is clearly a wolf, he resembles something dragged out of prehistoric times. Honestly, his fangs are as large as my fingers. His shaggy black fur is a little rough and matted, the pupils in his eyes swelling until they encapsulate the whites, only for them to shrink again a second later…like he’s fighting for control.
He’s so close to being feral that my heart cracks.
No one deserves the horror of slowly losing their sanity, forced to watch helplessly as their beast murders indiscriminately and unable to do anything about it. Not many go feral in Kyperian. I’m not sure if it’s because they take them away and kill them before it happens, or because they bind shifters with a collar to prevent our beasts from taking control.
Very few shifters willingly allow themselves to be collared, the barbaric practice is its own form of torture, but it’s not like shifters are given a choice.
I hesitantly reach out to touch the massive beast, unable to watch him a second longer without trying to help. Not to mention, if he breaks my hold, I fear he won’t just try to kill me but his friends as well.
“May-maybe you shouldn’t do that?” Foxy twists his hands together as he watches me, looking seconds away from leaping over the counter to tackle me.
“Let her.” The asshole shrugs, like what happens to me doesn’t matter, but I notice the rigid tension holding him still. “If she wants to lose a hand, then that’s on her.”
I hear their warning, know that losing my hand is a very real possibility, but I can’t seem to pull away. I’m drawn to the black beast, his anguish wrapping around my heart and squeezing until my chest feels too tight.
It takes me a second to realize that it’s my wolf urging me to help the doomed beast. A faint howl echoes in the back of my mind, and I’m not sure if it’s my wolf trying to communicate with me or the prehistoric creature trying to command me. I’ve never had a pack, never allowed my wolf to rise. It was the only way to keep us both safe.
Now that we’re free, she’s waking as if from a long slumber, becoming bossier and growing more dominant as our powers slowly increase.
My fingers skim lightly along his fur, the beast practically quivering under my touch. The steady growl rumbling in his chest stutters, and his shaggy coat ripples, as if unused to even the smallest kindness. I strengthen my hold over him, but the effort is taxing, leaving me trembling under the strain.
Touching an animal doesn’t trigger me as it would if he were in his human form. Maybe it’s because he’s nearly feral, or maybe it’s because I sympathize with his need to protect his family.
The longer I’m in contact with him, the more energy thrums under my skin. My immediate reaction is to jerk away and protect myself…until he leans into me slightly. Running my fingers through the tangled snarls of his fur is weirdly soothing, the rhythmic motion hypnotic in a way.
“As much as I hate to admit it, I agree with the gloomy grumpalumpagus.” I lower myself to the ground, dropping to my knees, then settle back on my haunches. “Assholes are everywhere, and so is corruption. Moving might stop the beatings, but you never know if the next place will be worse.”
I should know, since trouble finds me every time I step out of my car.
Over the last three months, I’ve been rescuing shifters and magic users left and right. As much as I don’t want to get involved in other people’s business, I refuse to let abuse stand. Ijust can’t, not after watching it my whole life and being unable to do anything about it.
Foxy and asshole exchange glances. When the fox steps toward me, the massive wolf under my fingers snarls menacingly and slowly edges in front of me…almost protectively?
I’m not sure which one of us is more surprised.
I gently cup the wolf’s muzzle, very conscious of the massive fangs mere inches from my face. The darkness in his gaze slowly shrinks, leaving me staring at sparkling blue eyes. They’re so intense, I can’t look away, and any thoughts in my head vanish.
When my hand stills, the beast nudges it, nearly toppling me over in the process. My arms automatically close around the nearest thing to keep my balance…which leaves me clinging to his neck, staring into his eyes.
I’m not sure which one of us is more surprised.
Neither of us breathes as we wait for the other to react. Whatever hold I had over him vanishes, and I slowly stiffen, aware that my throat is very near a mouthful of razor-sharp fangs.
Moving slowly, I drag my arms from around his neck…only to freeze when a growl rumbles in his chest. The darkness in his eyes swirls dangerously, his control fluctuating so wildly that it’s a very real possibility I will die before I can defend myself.
“Shift.” I infuse as much power into the command as possible, scooting back in hopes that I’ll be able to throw up my arm between us before he can rip out my throat. His fur ripples as he fights off my order, and I grimace as backlash slams into me.
My wolf snaps and snarls at the magic, shredding it with her fangs and claws before it has a chance to curdle my blood. When magic is repelled, it doesn’t just fade from existence. The energy needs to be used. Without a purpose, it twists itself back upon the caster like a curse.
The dissipating magic crackles painfully against my skin, and I grit my teeth against the scream crawling up my throat. The beast’s lips curl back into a snarl, the rumbling in his chest increasing in volume, and I’m not sure if he’s pissed at my attempt to influence him or the scent of my pain souring the air.
“Don’t move,” Foxy says, his eyes wide, his hands out in warning. “When I tell you, run like your life depends on it.”
From the corner of my eye, I spot Grumpy creeping ever closer from behind the island. He places a finger against his mouth, a signal to stay quiet. My eyes widen, and I shake my head. While I might be able to survive the attack, he will not.
I refuse to allow him to fight his friend…and possibly die.
