I WOKE UP PROPERLY early the following morning.
I ached all over from yesterday’s mad dash through the forest. Inside, my shifter was quiet again, still l*****g its wounds.
I curled onto my side and pressed my face against the pillow, willing myself to go back to sleep. I didn’t want to be awake, and have to start thinking about what had happened with Ronan.
All I’d wanted was to come home. Now I was here: back in my own room, surrounded by familiar things. Paint pots littered the desk under the window, and a half-finished blanket lay over the back of the armchair in the corner.
My bedroom was like a time-capsule. A snapshot of my life on the day I’d left the pack with Reid. I hadn’t expected everything to change that day. I hadn’t realized that, when I did finally return, I would be v
