Lyra hadn’t moved much all day.
A deep, burning ache curled in her neck, pulsing in waves down her spine. The bite wasn’t bleeding anymore, but it throbbed — a slow, constant pain that made her dizzy and nauseous. Every time her heart beat, it flared again. Like a wound that refused to close.
She curled on her side, hugging her knees, the blanket bunched up around her as she tried to suppress the soft whimpers escaping her throat.
This wasn't how a bite was supposed to feel.
In werewolf law — in biology, even — a claiming bite was supposed to be soothing. It was a union of two wolves, a seal on the bond. The Alpha’s salvia triggered a release of hormones and endorphins in the Omega’s body, calming their wolf, easing the heat and aligning their energies.
But only when the bite was done
