Rhodes
I’m not a poet. I’m not a storyteller, nor am I the hero in this story.
But looking at Scarlett? Seeing her cry and sob, silently beg through tears to whatever god she believes in—if she believes in any at all?
It makes me want to be better. More. For her.
I snarl at Zane. He snarls back, and the dance begins.
He’s in full Lycan form, breathing hard with shoulders rising and falling. Eyes locked on mine. Teeth showing. Claws out. We dance, but I’m the one faltering with my steps. I won’t be able to keep up with him for long. Not with the curse still in place.
Zane knows it.
He rushes forward, swiping at me with his clawed paws.
I can’t dodge him. This time, he draws blood from my sides, and it spills out on the grass in thick, black lumps. Definitely not normal. The curse is
