Chapter 8
Sand awoke Wednesday afternoon to find he was in Andre’s bed, still as his werewolf. He shifted, and carefully eased out of the bed, even though he knew he wouldn’t awaken Andre because it was at least an hour until dusk. Going into the bathroom, he closed the door and took care of the most pressing business before sitting on the edge of the tub to remove the torn pieces of shirt that Andre had used to bandage his wounds—which had already healed. What he was, plus the hours he’d slept, had seen to that. He showered—considering, as he did what had occurred over the past few days—got out and dried off. Then he rested his hands on the edge of the sink to survey himself in the mirror.
“It’s over,” he told his reflection. “The fear, the danger, the hiding—everything since Raúl’s dea
