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It didn’t take long for the wolf to wake. Less than an hour. But that was a long time without the proper medical attention—if not a lot of booze and Oxy—to treat my wounds. The blood had dried on my skin and clothes, making me shiver as the crisp wind seemed to cut into my bones. Everything ached. But I stayed.
I froze when its eyes opened, biting my tongue as it took a long sniff, its snout moving directly in my direction.
I swore our eyes locked before I darted back behind the tree. But I didn’t hear a growl or it running toward me, so I risked another look.
It was standing on its hind legs, turned away from me, making a low keening sound. Suddenly, the air around it seemed to shimmer, loud cracks of bone echoing through the forest as its entire body shrank, fur shedding as it morphed before my eyes.
I’d seen a wolf change before. After I killed it. They always went back to their human forms. I didn’t know the science behind it—maybe it was nature continuing to mask them from humans, or maybe they died how they came into the world.
But never had I seen one do it while living.
It was an exercise in patience to wait, adjusting my hold on my gun and pulling in some deep breaths as I readied myself for one last fight.
The muscular back that came into focus was broad. He was tall. Taller than me, and likely stronger. But I was banking on him being exhausted from changing, after killing.
I was too busy prepping myself for the fight, for the kill, that it took me much longer than it should’ve to recognize the hair, the gait, and the form of the man who had just transformed from a savage werewolf.
Granted, I hadn’t seen him naked in quite some time, but his form was unmistakable.
My finger twitched from the trigger when he turned. My brain froze, and my pulse hammered in my ears as I stayed utterly still, watching the person I’d been hunting my entire life.
Colton.
Shifting.
Colton with blood on his muzzle. Colton waking up naked in the woods, looking from side to side as if to check who was watching, and then running off.
I didn’t chase him.
Didn’t move for … five minutes? Ten? Time seemed to be suspended, me standing there, looking at the place where Colton had metamorphosed.
Where Colton changed from a fucking werewolf.
The bark was rough against my back, but I barely felt it as I sunk down, my ass settling on the dirt.
I stared into the forest.
I sat there for a long time.
“What the fuck?” Dante’s expression was stormy as he ran his gaze up and down my body.
I didn’t look great.
Well, I looked exactly like I’d gotten into a tussle with a werewolf and lost. Not exactly like that, since someone who had gotten into a tussle and lost was likely dead. Even a hunter who got in a tussle with a werewolf was likely to be a little bit more banged up than me.
I fared well, all things considered. But still, blood was already leaking through the bandages on my calf. The cuts on my cheek were shallow but looked pretty gnarly. My black eye, which had been healing, was now an angry shade and hurt worse than ever. My entire midsection throbbed like it had a giant heartbeat, and it hurt to breathe, my wounds stretching against the stitches I’d done through gritted teeth.
I didn’t expect Dante to be pleased by my obvious injuries, but I also didn't expect him to have such a visceral reaction. We were hunters. We got banged up. No big deal.
“Tell me what the fuck you did,” he commanded through his teeth, his nostrils flaring. The fury on his face was entirely unfamiliar. Unnerving. He was nearly shaking with it.
“I didn’t do anything.” I rolled my eyes. “This was obviously the work of a stubborn werewolf who doesn’t want to die.”
I didn’t mention who the werewolf was. I couldn’t. It was an effort to mask my horror, my sorrow, in front of Dante. I’d only recently gotten back. I didn’t time how long I’d sat leaning against that tree, but my shirt was drenched with blood when I finally stood, my head swimming with blood loss.
It was sheer luck that I didn’t pass out on my walk to the car or the subsequent drive here.
