As I ate, and even when I fell asleep, the sounds of Eli’s howling haunted me.

I didn’t think about why that was more so than usual. Why would I?

I didn’t know what had happened tonight.

Didn’t understand the ramifications.

But I would soon.

Sabina

I felt weak, weaker than usual. My body always ached now, and the fibromyalgia made some days a nightmare just to get through, but this weakness was different than how I usually felt.

Some mornings, just getting out of bed made me want to cry, but it wasn’t like I had a choice. My life didn’t come with any kind of grants or federal aid. How could it when I was a ghost? When I’d been that way for twelve years?

So every morning, when the pain made me want to weep, I just had to suck it up, and trust me, it was easier to give birth than it was to suck it up—and I’d know. Labor was on par with the constant pain in my bones, so when I woke up and I felt just weak, it was kind of nice.

After all, weak was better than childbirth.

When I opened my eyes, I recognized that I wasn’t in my trailer back at the fairground. In fact…

I blinked and slowly sat up as I registered where the hell I was.

For a second, I could do nothing but gape at the wolf who was sitting before me, proud and tall and straight, his black fur gleaming in the early morning sunlight, and then I took in the fact that I was in the woods.

I wasn’t sure which made less sense.

The fact that I was in a forest or the fact that a massive wolf was standing close to me. Like, within touching distance close.

Fear tried to filter through my system, but even as I felt it, it swarmed away, replaced with a warmth that couldn’t be denied. But why would looking at him make me feel warm?

I always felt cold. Always. So this warmth was enough to make me feel sleepy, and the longer I looked at him, the better I felt!

The beast’s bright green eyes glimmered in the light too, making them sparkle like emeralds as he stared at me. When I sat up, he tipped his head to the side before he tilted it back and released the most piercing, mournful howl that I’d ever heard.

It was crazy that, until today, I’d never realized just how much emotion was in a howl, and yet, here? I could tell the creature was hurting. I just didn’t know why. And I really wanted to.

I also needed to pee, was hungry as hell, and wanted to know why I was in the woods with him watching over me.

In no particular order.

After he released that howl, he began to approach me. At first, I reared back, scrabbled away even, unsure where to go or if I could even outrun the beast. I mean, it wasn’t like I’d been a sprinter back when I’d been in the peak of health, so now? Yeah, there was no way I could outrun a wolf that looked to be in the prime of his life. So I stayed put, kept as still as I could, and prayed that he wouldn’t rip me to shreds.

My heart pounded in my chest, my lungs bellowed with fear, and then, as he approached, instead of expiring from fright, that warmth appeared once more.

It took away the terror, eased the dull throb of my heart as it fluttered like a frightened bird, and my lungs stopped burning from breathing too fast as well.

When he nuzzled into me—there was no other word—I flinched. He shot me a mournful look from those doe-like eyes and nuzzled into me once more. The brush of his fur didn’t tickle, though, and I was surprised by that. I’d thought it would rub against my cheek and make me itchy because I’d always been allergic to dogs. Instead, it felt…good.

Right.

Perfect.

I twisted my head to the side, aware of how close he was, and then he licked me. Except, when his tongue collided with my nose, my nose wasn’t my nose. It was long. Longer than ever before because I watched that pink tongue shoot out, even watched it move along my—

My—

No.

No way.

I did not have a snout!

A moan of fright escaped me, but it didn’t sound like it did usually. I was used to moaning and groaning, I knew what I sounded like when I was in pain. But this? It was more like a whine.

A doggy whine.

The wolf beside me yipped, then, dragging his nose over my snout, he took a few steps back. As he did, I realized that there were some bones beside him. Bones that were covered in blood. While I was stunned at the sight, what stunned me more was that I didn’t want to puke.

Oh, no.

I wanted more.

The bones triggered a memory. I wasn’t sure how that was even possible, but hell, if I was tripping on some bad weed from the pouch Liana had bought for me yesterday, then this was the weirdest fucking high I’d ever had before… I could taste the fresh meat, the rich, iron flavor that came from the blood spurting into my mouth…

Looking at the wolf, I whined again, and he darted forward, licked my cheek—did wolves have cheeks?—then he retreated to the bones once more.

He sat there, watchful. I thought he was just staring at me again, but he wasn’t. He was doing something. Something that called to me.

Before my eyes, his fur retracted, his snout turned back into a nose, his jaw shortened, morphing into that of a man’s, and his back appeared to break before he was in human skin once more.

The force of the shift had made his spine bow, so when he stared at me again, and I caught sight of his face, I whined again.

He was beautiful.

Absolutely beautiful.

I could honestly say that I’d never seen any man like him before. He had hair so dark that it wasn’t just black, it didn’t gleam blue—not at all—and was glossy like silk. We had a few Roma at the carnival, so the rich dark hair wasn’t utterly unique, but his skin wasn’t tinged café au lait from his heritage. If anything, he was bronzed, like he was tanned, everywhere, except for the faint redness of his cheeks. Amid those black locks were dashes of salt and pepper that only augmented the rich onyx.

His jaw was stony, his nose was straight and free from breaks, and his brow was wide and topped with a widow’s peak that had his hair cascading about his ears in a shaggy mop that surprised me. He looked too serious, too somber to have such a relaxed and down-home hairstyle.

But as I took all of him in, what I noticed more than anything was the pain in his eyes. A pain that, I realized, had been reflected in his howl.

It was also a testament to how crazy this was that I registered then and there he was also naked.

And one word summed him up—wow.

But he was moving. Toward me, behind me, before I heard him rustling around. I twisted my head, watched him dress, and as I did, he started speaking.

“It’s okay,” he told me softly, his voice low and deep. At a tenor that I sensed was meant to soothe and keep me free from agitation. “I know you’re scared, but you don’t need to be. I’m here for you. I’m here with you to help you.”

When he said the words, ‘I’m here for you,’ something about his phrasing, about the dip in his tone, told me he meant something else. I wasn’t sure what else those four words could mean, but I detected something that didn’t exactly put me on edge, although it certainly made me eye him warily.

I shoved myself up so I was standing, almost falling over when I realized I had four feet to balance on. As I did, tumbling into the leaves he’d settled me in the night before—that I could remember. Maybe it was the noise which triggered the memory?—he leaped forward and made to help me stand.