Something about the way she moves sets off every alarm in my body. I angle my approach to catch a glimpse of her face.
Auburn hair. Pale skin. “Selene?”
My stomach drops, and I stop in my tracks. What the hell is she doing out here at this hour, dressed like that?
She doesn’t turn. Doesn’t react at all. She just keeps walking, her footsteps heavy and sluggish, like she’s moving through water.
Every instinct I have screams that something is wrong. Whatever this is—sleepwalking, a spell, some kind of compulsion—she needs help. I make the decision in a heartbeat and sprint after her, my wolf howling in panic.
“Selene!” My voice cuts through the night air, sharp and commanding. I reach out, but she’s already slipping between the trees. I follow her into the forest, branches catching at my
