Chapter 8
He came at me sideways. All paws the size of dinner plates and eyes full of predatory intensity.
My heart pounded. It was too late to flee from his aggression. Instead, I stood my ground, the air so thick I could barely breathe it in.
And...the wolf didn’t jump me. Instead, at the last moment, he swerved to sniff at my hindquarters. Hot breath between my legs....
I spun. Bared my teeth. Barked out a comment. Rude.
He backed off. Head c****d. Ears pinned. Ruff lowering.
It was as if we spoke two different languages. He’d said “Hi” in Polish, I’d chewed him out in Chinese.
And in that instant, I understood that this wasn’t a woelfin. This was one of the skinless. The strange were-beasts we steered so carefully clear of.
Because werewolves—their term for their kind—were anim
