Chapter 3

Sam

Megan did not look good as I slid into the driver's side of my car. Her skin had a greenish cast, and her forehead was beaded with perspiration. I had to hand it to her. If what I feared was happening, she was in agony and not saying a word.

I, however, was in the fast lane toward full-blown panic. I broke one of the sacred rules. Never bite a human.

My father was going to kill me. That paled in comparison to what I'd done to Meg. Her whole life, her whole world, would no longer be what she thought it was. And I had ensured that any feelings of security, her understanding of what was real and what was fantasy, would be ripped from her with mind-altering force. If she changed.

The moon was full—it would be tomorrow, too—illuminating the road and giving the approaching meadows and encroaching forests an ethereal beauty.

I glanced at Megan. We'd been quiet for about five minutes, lost in private thoughts. Or private pain for Meg. I sighed. I'd made a fine mess of things. Guilt squirmed in my gut. If I'd been allowed to date her—beautiful, perfect human that she was—knocking heads and accidentally biting her wouldn't have been my chosen method to express my interest.

"How you doing?"

"Actually, I feel a little better. My stomach just hurts still. I appreciate you taking me home. Thank you." Taking her home was the least I could do after I bit her. I glanced at the tiny cut on her forehead. Dread cramped my gut.

I caught a whiff of Brody Harrington's smell still lingering on her. I squeezed the steering wheel, Wolf curling his lips back, remembering the way his gaze had devoured her.

Shoving thoughts of Brody aside, I focused on the positive. She was feeling better. Excellent. I hadn't seen the telltale signs of the shift. Could it be possible that it was some random fluke? Could we both be that lucky? After all, I'd been human when I bit her…did that matter?

Hundreds of years of untarnished pack history and I might have just destroyed it. I swallowed thickly.

"Glad you're feeling better. And it's no problem to run you home. How's your head?"

She chuckled and then winced and ran a finger over where we'd collided. "I'll live." She forced a smile.

My gut unclenched a fraction of an inch. Her belly hurt. First shift was insanely intense. I tried to convince myself that maybe she got a bite of bad nachos. My hands released their white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. I was about to breathe again when I saw it.

Her shoulders heaved.

We were in the middle of nowhere on the back roads between school and the other side of town. Open meadows hugged the road, flanked by forest.

A strangled noise choked in her throat. We were out of time and out of luck.

I slammed the brakes and skidded to a stop on the gravel shoulder of the road.

"Sam, I'm going to be sick." She fumbled for the latch.

"It's a lot more than that," I muttered, racing around to her side of the car.

I opened her door as blood spewed from her mouth and she fell out of her seat. I caught her and eased her out of the car, her shoulders convulsing, her pulse pounding beneath my hands.

"No, no, no!" I whispered, wanting to let my wolf loose. I didn't know if I could stand to watch the pain Meg would go through—pain caused entirely at my own fangs.

I steered us into a lightly wooded patch, far enough from the road that nobody would see what was about to happen.

She moaned, low, harsh. Her breathing was labored.

"I…think…dying," she whispered brokenly, her breath hitching. She buckled in over herself.

Whipping my hand through my hair, I tugged at it, as if pulling my hair could distract me from what was happening to Megan.

"Megan, listen to me," I tried. My voice squeaked, while Wolf lunged inside me. I forced him back down. "Listen to me," I tried again. "I know what you're feeling. It hurts. A lot. Meg, I'm so sorry!" Something that sounded like a sob echoed inside my head. I think maybe I was crying. "You're going through first shift. You're going to turn into a wolf."

She turned tortured eyes on me, and I could feel her anguish, terror, and confusion. Wolf begged for release. I wanted to phase, be a wolf, let the animal lead, to run and run for miles and think of nothing but the fragrance of the forest and the wind in my fur.

Meg screamed, and I about lost it.

Her skin started to crack open, the seams of her body coming unhinged. Blood gushed from her mouth again, and it sprayed the ground in front of her. Her back quivered as her shoulders rolled backward into her spine. Her backbone lengthened, and her shirt split as caramel-colored fur rippled through her skin. Her legs drew up and her feet pushed out of her shoes, claws appearing at the end of paws and footpads. With a mighty shake and a sound more roar than howl, she stood before me on all fours. A beautiful auburn wolf in a clearing, the full moon shining down on her in all her glory.

Every cell in my body homed in on Megan. Wolf demanded that I shift and claim her. She was my mate. There was no denying it. I took a deep breath to calm the shock. I couldn't let my wolf out now, though I had never felt the urge so strongly before. I clenched my hands into fists and took a calming breath to still the tremors that rocked my arms. I had to think and act in my human skin. Megan didn't need to be scared more than she already was. Regaining control of myself, I crouched down at eye-level with Megan-the-wolf. I couldn't stop myself from ever so slowly reaching my hands out and stroking her head.

Wolf howled inside me that Megan was my mate. The only one I'd ever want. The only one I'd ever love. I gulped.

"Hey," I said softly. "Your wolf is beautiful." I stroked her ears, and she let out the most guilt-inducing whine I'd ever heard.