Bloodline
The forest clearing still smelled of blood and fear. The three hunters Derrick had sent lay broken on the ground, their groans echoing faintly through the trees. I hadn’t killed them—not yet—but I could feel the wolf inside me growling in protest, as though mercy itself was weakness.
Lucien circled me like a predator amused by its prey. His silver hair caught the moonlight, and his dark eyes glittered with a secret satisfaction. “So,” he said lightly, almost teasing. “The cast-off wolf isn’t so fragile after all.”
I wiped blood from my lip with the back of my hand, still shaking from what I had unleashed. “What did you do to me?”
“Nothing you didn’t allow,” he replied smoothly. “The shadows were always yours. I woke them.”
His words sank deep, stirring unease and excitement
