I wake up choking on heat.
Not cute romance novel heat where the heroine wakes up a little flushed and dramatically touches her forehead.
No.
This is biblical. Plague levels of suffering. My entire body is boiled alive from the inside out, every inch of skin too tight for my bones, sweat slicking my neck, my chest, the backs of my knees. My hair is plastered to my face, and I’m tangled in sheets that were woven in the depths of hell itself.
For one blissful second, I have no idea where I am.
Then memory slams into me. The wolf.
A massive one with human eyes and blood on its teeth.
More memories come crashing after it in jagged flashes, landmines going off in my skull.
I sit upright so fast the room tilts sideways.
“Not now,” I croak.
My stomach lurches. Panic crawls up my throa
