The cracking sound of the tree branch making contact with the side of Carrie’s skull would have been alarming enough without all the blood that followed. Carrie’s vision went dark at the edges as she struggled to remain upright, noting briefly that her knees had gone to jello and that she was only maintaining verticality because someone was holding her up. Someone who she’d been making out with, and whose lip was now dribbling blood.
Her mind reeled, her vision swimming as the sound of her mate’s growling, rageful voice filled the formerly quiet air of the wood. Carrie’s lips quivered as she tried to form words of her own, but the voice that replied to Desmond was shrill and haughty, a jarring contrast to what the she-wolf had been anticipating. Carrie’s vision clicked sharply into focus,
