Annabel
Pain rips through me—a burning, gauging pain.
He bit me.
I don’t believe it, but Charlie flies back and lands onto his ass on the floor, blood dripping from oversized canines.
And his eyes.
Ice. Blue.
Just like the wolf in the stairwell. Like the wolf at the cabin.
Cold gooseflesh runs across my arms. No. It can’t be.
Werewolves don’t exist.
But there’s no other explanation. Charlie is a freaking werewolf!
And he bit me—the man I would’ve sworn this morning would protect me from anything.
“Get back!” I shout even though he’s already retreated. Hands shaking, I grab the Glock from my purse and c**k it. Blood soaks my t-shirt around my right shoulder.
Flashes of what I’ve already seen run through my mind. Charlie’s need to go out alone for night runs. The wolf tearing at
