This Loves Got Teeth

Two: Partial Shift

“I’m taking you to the Pack medic,” he says suddenly, and before I can even process his words, one arm wraps around my back, the other sliding under my legs as he lifts me clean off the ground.

A startled gasp escapes me as the world tilts.

“Wh—what are you doing?” I ask automatically, panic flaring as my arms instinctively loop around his neck, fingers gripping tight, terrified he might drop me.

“You look like you’re about to collapse,” he replies, his voice steady, leaving no room for argument. “I’m not going to make you walk.”

And then he starts moving—fast.

The forest shifts around us, trees blurring together as he carries me deeper into the woods, like he knows exactly where he’s going. Like this place belongs to him.

“No… no, I can’t go back in there—please…” The words rush out of me, frantic and breathless, fear clawing its way up my throat. My fingers tighten against the back of his neck, nails biting into his skin without me meaning to.

“Please, I don’t want to go back—”

“Wynter, you’re safe. I’m right here,” he says, softer now, his voice cutting through the panic just enough to make me hesitate.

Safe.

The word feels distant. Unreachable.

“Who is Wynter?” I finally ask, my voice shaky, uneven. “And why do you keep calling me that?”

The question sits heavy between us.

I become suddenly, painfully aware of how close I am to him—my body pressed against his bare chest, the heat of his skin seeping through the thin, torn fabric of my dress.

My cheeks flush despite everything, confusion tangling with something I don’t want to name.

He stops.

Abruptly.

The sudden stillness makes my stomach drop.

“You don’t even remember your own name?” he asks, looking down at me. There’s something raw in his expression now—something that wasn’t there before. Concern… and something deeper. “Do you… remember me?”

My throat tightens.

I search his face, those green eyes, the sharp lines of his features—trying, trying to feel something familiar, to find even the smallest piece of recognition.

There’s nothing.

Only that strange pull in my chest. That confusing, electric awareness.

And guilt.

“I—” I swallow hard, my grip on him loosening slightly as the weight of it presses down on me. “No… I’m sorry.”

The words feel inadequate. Wrong.

Something in his expression shifts, barely noticeable, but I feel it anyway.

Then he starts walking again.

Faster this time.

More urgent.

The silence between us stretches, thick and suffocating, broken only by the sound of his footsteps and my uneven breathing.

I glance around, my heart still racing. The forest doesn’t look any less threatening, any less unfamiliar. If anything, it feels darker the deeper we go.

The trees grow thicker, their branches tangling overhead, blocking out the sky. The air feels heavier here—charged.

“Silas…” I say his name carefully, testing it, unsure why it feels easier to say than anything else. “What is this place?”

His jaw tightens slightly, like he’s choosing his words.

“My territory,” he answers after a moment.

Territory.

The word sends another uneasy ripple through me.

“And… the kid—Lowell?” I press, my voice quieter now, hesitant. “He turned into a… a wolf.”

Saying it out loud makes it sound even more unreal.

Silas doesn’t look at me this time.

“Yes.”

Just that. No hesitation. No denial.

My stomach twists.

“And you’re… what? Like him?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

He exhales slowly, like he’s been expecting this question.

“I’m his Alpha.”

That doesn’t answer anything.

It only makes it worse.

“I don’t know what that means,” I admit, my voice cracking slightly.

His arms tighten around me—subtle, but noticeable.

“It means,” he says, his tone more controlled now, “that you’re with someone who won’t let anything happen to you.”

The certainty in his voice should be reassuring.

But it isn’t.

Because I don’t even know what I need protection from.

A cold thought creeps in.

Or what I’ve already done.

My hands twitch slightly against him, the memory flashing again—blood, still and dark, the body unmoving beside me.

My chest tightens.

“Silas…” My voice wavers. “What if I really did it?”

He doesn’t respond immediately.

Each step he takes feels heavier now, more deliberate.

“What if I killed someone?” I press, the words tumbling out faster, panic rising again. “What if that’s why I can’t remember? What if I—what if I’m not safe to be around?”

“That’s enough.”

His voice cuts through mine—firm, unyielding.

I flinch slightly at the sudden sharpness.

“You don’t know what happened,” he continues, quieter now but no less intense. “And neither do I. So don’t start condemning yourself for something you

can’t even remember doing.”

“But the blood—”

“I said enough.”

This time, there’s no room for argument.

I fall silent, my chest heaving, emotions tangling so tightly I can’t separate them anymore—fear, confusion, guilt, something else I can’t name.

We move in silence after that.

Until—

Voices.

Faint at first, then clearer.

My body tenses instantly, my grip tightening on him again as I peer past his shoulder.

Through the trees, I see them.

People.

No—not just people.

Something about them feels… off. Like the boy—Lowell. Like Silas.

They’re scattered in a small clearing, some standing, some sitting, all of them pausing as we emerge from the trees.

And then—

They all look at me.

At once.

The shift is immediate.

Conversations cut off mid-sentence.

Movements still. Every pair of eyes locks onto me, sharp, assessing, alert.

A wave of unease crashes over me.

“Silas…” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

His hold on me tightens slightly, protective.

“It’s fine,” he murmurs, though his tone has changed again—harder now. Colder.

Commanding.

We step fully into the clearing.

And the reaction is instant.

“What the hell—”

“Is that—?”

“She’s—”

Voices overlap, confusion, shock—somewhere in there, something that sounds like disbelief.

My heart pounds harder, my breathing turning shallow under the weight of their stares.

I shrink slightly against Silas without meaning to.

“Inside,” he says, his voice carrying effortlessly over the noise.

Everything goes quiet.

Not gradually.

Instantly.

The authority in his tone is absolute.

No one argues.

No one questions.

And that terrifies me more than anything else.

Because whatever he is to them—

He’s in control.

Completely.

He carries me past them, and I can feel their eyes following, burning into me from every direction. I don’t dare look back.

Ahead, a large structure comes into view—something between a house and a lodge, built from dark wood, blending into the forest like it belongs there.

As we approach, the door swings open before we even reach it.

A woman stands there, her expression already tense—until her eyes land on me.

Then it changes.

Sharp.

Focused.

Professional.

“Put her on the table,” she says immediately, stepping aside.

Silas doesn’t hesitate.

He carries me inside.

“What’s happening—what… what’s going on?” My voice comes out thin, strained, as

Silas lowers me onto the cold metal table.

The shock of it makes me flinch, my entire body tensing as the chill seeps through my skin.

“Stop talking.” The woman’s voice is sharp, efficient, cutting straight through my panic. She doesn’t even look at me as she steps closer, her hands already moving—parting my hair, tilting my head slightly to the side.

I suck in a breath as her fingers brush near the wound.

Pain flares—sharp and immediate.

“Ah—” I wince, my hands curling tightly in my lap, fingers twisting together as I fight the urge to pull away.

She leans in closer, her focus intense, unblinking. “Hold still.”

I try.

God, I try—but everything feels like too much. The lights overhead, the cold table beneath me, the smell of something sterile mixed with something metallic—

My eyes flick to Silas.

He’s standing close. Too close. Watching everything.

And somehow… he’s the only thing that doesn’t feel completely unreal.

The only thing that feels even remotely steady.

“Silas…” I whisper, barely audible, like saying his name might anchor me here.

“She’s been struck by something silver,” the woman says suddenly, her voice tightening with concern. “That’s why she’s not healing.”

Healing?

The word barely registers before she pulls back slightly, studying me now with sharper eyes.

“What did you get hit with?” she asks.

My mouth opens—but nothing comes out.

Because I don’t know.

“I…” My voice falters, my gaze dropping helplessly to my hands again, to the dried blood still staining them. “I don’t—”

“She doesn’t remember anything,” Silas cuts in before I can finish.

The words land heavy.

The woman pauses.

Slowly, she turns her head to look at him, her expression shifting—confusion, then something closer to alarm.

“What do you mean, anything?”

Silas exhales quietly, like he’s bracing himself.

“I mean,” he says carefully, each word measured, controlled, “she doesn’t even remember her own name.”

My chest tightens.

Hearing him say it out loud makes it feel worse. More real.

More terrifying.

“She doesn’t know… anything.”

The room goes still.

The woman stares at him for a second longer before her gaze snaps back to me—sharper now, more intense, like she’s seeing me differently.

Like I’m not just injured anymore.

Like I’m something else entirely.

My stomach drops.

“What’s the last thing you do remember?” she asks, her tone changing—less harsh now, but more probing. Careful.

I swallow hard, my throat dry.

“I woke up…” I start, my voice shaking. “In the woods. Next to a body.”

The image flashes again, making my stomach twist violently. “There was so much blood and I—I don’t know whose it is, and I don’t know how I got there and I don’t know who I am—”

My breath starts coming too fast.

Too shallow.

“I don’t remember anything before that,” I choke out, panic rising again, clawing up my chest. “Nothing at all.”

The woman watches me closely, her brows pulling together as she processes that.

Then, quieter, more to herself— “That’s not possible…”

“It is,” Silas says, his voice low, firm.

There’s no hesitation in it. No doubt.

I glance at him again, my chest tightening for a different reason this time.

Why does he sound so sure?

Why does he look at me like he knows me?

The woman straightens, crossing her arms briefly as she thinks, her gaze flicking between the two of us.

“Silver weapons don’t just stop healing,” she says slowly. “They interfere with the body—poison it, disrupt it. But memory loss like this…” She trails off, shaking her head slightly. “That’s not typical.”

A cold chill runs down my spine.

“Are you saying…” My voice comes out small. Fragile. “Are you saying something’s wrong with me?”

Her eyes flick back to mine.

Something unreadable passes through her expression.

“Something happened to you,” she corrects carefully. “And whatever it was—it wasn’t minor.”

That doesn’t make me feel better.

At all.

My hands start trembling again, worse this time, my fingers curling into my palms as if I can somehow hold myself together.

“I think I killed someone,” I blurt out suddenly, the words spilling over before I can stop them.

My voice cracks under the weight of it. “There was a body and the blood and my hands and I don’t remember but what if I—”

“Enough.” Silas’ voice cuts in again—but this time it’s

not sharp.

It’s steady.

Grounding.

He steps closer, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him again, his presence solid, unmovable.

“You don’t know that,” he says, quieter now, but firm. “You’re not going to keep repeating it like it’s fact.”

“But what if it is?” I whisper, my eyes burning now, tears threatening again. “What if I’m—”

“You’re not.” The certainty in his voice stops me.

I look at him, really look this time.

There’s no hesitation in his expression. No doubt.

Just something fierce.

Protective.

“You don’t know me,” I say weakly, the words trembling as much as I am. “You said it yourself—I don’t even remember you.”

His jaw tightens.

For a split second, something flashes across his face—something deeper, sharper. Something that looks almost like it hurts.

But when he speaks again, his voice is controlled. “I know enough.”

The room falls quiet again.

The woman exhales slowly, breaking the tension as she turns back to her supplies.

“We can argue about identity later,” she mutters, reaching for something off to the side. “Right now, she needs treatment.”

She glances back at me.

“This is going to hurt.”

My stomach drops.

“Wait—what do you—” Before I can finish, she presses something cold and burning at the same time against the wound on my head.

Pain explodes instantly.

A sharp cry tears from my throat, my body jerking as my hands grip the edge of the table.

“Hold her still,” she snaps.

And then—

Silas is there.

Right there.

One hand bracing my shoulder, the other gripping my wrist—not harsh, but firm enough to keep me from pulling away.

“Easy,” he murmurs, his voice low near my ear. “I’ve got you.”

The pain doesn’t stop.

Why are they doing this to me?

The thought fractures through the pain, barely forming before it’s swallowed by something sharper, deeper—like the fire on my skin is spreading inward, threading through my veins.

Why does it hurt so bad—

A scream tears out of me, raw and uncontrollable, my teeth clamping together so hard my jaw aches from the pressure. My entire body arches against the table, every muscle locking as something inside me twists—

Wrong.

Everything feels wrong.

Too tight.

Too loud.

Too much.

“I—ah—make it stop—!” My voice breaks apart into another cry as the burning intensifies, like something is clawing its way out from beneath my skin.

My fingers curl violently, nails digging into the metal beneath me with a screeching scrape.

And then—

Something shifts.

A sharp, unnatural pressure builds in my mouth—

I gasp, the sound cutting off halfway as it changes, warping into something lower, rougher. My teeth—

They hurt.

A deep, aching pressure pulses through my gums, and before I can even process it, I feel them—

lengthening.

My breath stutters, panic spiking higher, my chest heaving as I try to pull back, to escape my own body.

“What—what’s happening to me?!” I choke out, but even my voice sounds wrong now, strained, edged with something unfamiliar.

The room tilts.

My vision blurs—

Then sharpens.

Too sharp.

Every detail snaps into focus with terrifying clarity—the flicker of the overhead light, the texture of the walls, the rapid rise and fall of Silas’ chest—

His scent hits me next.

Strong.

Earthy.

Overwhelming.

My head jerks slightly, my pupils blowing wide before—

Everything washes out.

The world drains of color, fading into shades of pale, ghostly white.

I can see—but it’s different now. Distorted. Heightened.

And the sounds—

My heartbeat thunders in my ears.

No—

Not just mine.

Theirs too.

Three separate rhythms, each distinct, each loud enough to drown out everything else.

“What the hell—” the woman breathes, her voice breaking for the first time.

I don’t understand.

I don’t understand any of this.

My body trembles violently, caught between pain and something else—something rising, something pushing outward, like it’s been locked away and is finally breaking free.

“Silas—” my voice cracks again, desperate now, reaching for the only thing that feels even remotely steady. “Silas, I—something’s wrong—”

“I know,” he says immediately, but his voice isn’t as steady as before. There’s tension in it now. Shock. “Easy—just—stay with me.”

“I can’t—!” Another strangled cry rips from my throat as the sensation spikes again, my back arching off the table. “It feels like I’m—”

Breaking.

Splitting apart.

Becoming something else.

And then—

Silence.

Not actual silence.

But something shifts.

The pain doesn’t disappear—but it changes. Pulls back just enough for something else to take its place.

Awareness.

Sharp.

Primal.

I suck in a ragged breath, my chest heaving as my body slowly stills, though the tremors don’t fully stop.

And that’s when I see their faces.

Really see them.

The woman has gone pale, her eyes wide, fixed on me like I’ve just done something impossible.

And Silas—

For the first time since I met him—

He looks completely, utterly caught off guard.

“This isn’t possible,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper, like if she says it too loud it might become real. “Wynter doesn’t have a wolf. She’s never even shifted.”

The words slam into me.

Wolf.

Shifted.

My pulse stutters.

“No…” I shake my head weakly, my breath still uneven, my voice trembling. “No, I—I don’t even know what that means—”

“But I just saw it,” she insists, her gaze flicking to Silas, searching for confirmation, for logic—anything that makes sense. “Her eyes, her teeth—that’s a partial shift. That’s wolf behavior.”

My stomach drops.

“No,” I repeat, more desperate this time, my voice rising. “No, that’s not—I’m not—I can’t be—”

“You are,” Silas says.

The words cut through everything.

I freeze.

Slowly, my gaze shifts to him.

His eyes are locked on mine—intense, searching, something almost unreadable beneath the surface now.

“You felt it, didn’t you?” he continues, quieter. “That wasn’t nothing.”

My throat tightens.

I did feel something.

Something alive.

Something that didn’t feel human.

“I don’t understand,” I whisper, my voice cracking again, tears spilling over now as everything crashes down at once. “I don’t remember anything, I woke up covered in blood next to a dead body, and now you’re telling me I’m—what? Some kind of—of—”

I can’t even say it.

The word won’t come out.

Because saying it makes it real.

The woman exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair as she paces once, her composure cracking.

“This changes things,” she mutters. “If she’s shifting, even partially, then whatever hit her didn’t just suppress healing—it triggered something. Or unlocked it.”

“Unlocked?” I repeat, my voice hollow.

Silas doesn’t take his eyes off me.

“There are things about you you don’t remember,” he says carefully. “Things you were never supposed to forget.”

A chill runs down my spine.

“Never supposed to?” I echo, my breath catching.

That doesn’t sound like an accident.

That sounds like—

Something was done to me.

My chest tightens again, panic creeping back in, quieter this time—but deeper.

More dangerous.

“Silas…” I whisper, my voice barely holding together. “What am I?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

And somehow—

That’s worse than anything else.