After our conversation, we continued walking. Rose still talked about a few things she thought needed to change, but I could no longer focus on her words. The only thing I could concentrate on was her soft hand holding mine. Even the slightest touch ignited a fire within me that I had never experienced before. I was longing for her, yet I also felt anger toward her for the things she compelled me to do with my werewolves. I wanted her close, and the thought of being without her while I worked made me sick. Yet, I tried to silence her forever, to cut her tongue out so I wouldn’t have to hear her voice. It was a strange conflict; I couldn’t imagine my life without her, yet I felt an urge to harm her, to watch her bleed out.
I didn’t understand what was happening to me. A she-wolf still appe
