Chapter 4

Megan

The pain had subsided. But I was unbelievably disoriented. My brain seemed fuzzy, and I felt, not quite bloated, but stretched—like I didn't fit into my own skin anymore.

Sam was in front of me, awe on his face as he gently stroked my hair. Was he trying to put it behind my ears? Was he going to try to kiss me again? Why was he touching me like this? It felt incredible. Brody had been flirting with me for weeks, but it had never felt this genuine. Heat pooled in my belly, and I was about to lean into him so he could reach me better when he spoke.

"Hey. Your wolf is beautiful."

My wolf. In one second, violent images and flashes of bone on bone and sinews snapping filled my brain. I thought I'd lost my mind. An echo of Sam's voice ricocheted inside my head. You're going to turn into a wolf now.

A wolf. I looked at my hands but saw giant paws with curving claws instead. I started brutally, jerking at the shock, my teeth clicking together with the force. Sam's hand softly stroked my head.

A sob choked its way out of my throat—at least, I tried to sob. It came out as a pitiful whine.

Terrified and confused, I shook my head out of Sam's hands and tried to back away from him. What had he done to me? I tripped on something. My tail? With an undignified thump, I landed on my rear.

"Easy, Megan," Sam said. His voice was soothing. The wolf creature—thing—that I was, immediately warmed to it. But I—at least what I assumed was left of the human me—wanted to escape. What else would or could he do to me? My jaws snapped at him, but the wolf recoiled, and all I accomplished was to bite my own tongue. Helplessness, anger, fear, and bewilderment roiled through my gut.

I whined again. Tears, or whatever the wolf equivalent was, pricked at my eyes. Slumping to the ground I covered my head with my paws in defeat and whimpered.

"Megan, it's going to be all right. You're not going to stay a wolf. You'll change back in a few minutes."

My head came up. I tried to convey my jumbled thoughts—I needed answers.

What am I?my brain shouted.

Sam jerked like I'd slapped him. He took a deep breath. "I'm a werewolf. You're…you're a werewolf now. When I, when we collided." He took a deep breath. "When I bit you, my wolf toxins must have infected you, too. I hoped maybe it was just a bad nacho. I was human when I bit you. I wasn't sure if it would change you or not. Obviously, it did. I'm so sorry, Meg." His eyes told me he was undeniably sincere.

Werewolf? Werewolves were real?

The tingling started at the base of my tail and shivered up my spine before I could formulate my next thought.

I whimpered, afraid of the pain that would certainly follow.

"Don't fight it," Sam instructed gently. "Let the shift come and feel your shape going back to your human form. Imagine your arms and your legs and your fingers and toes.

I did my best to follow his directions. In fact, I became so focused on the sound of his voice that the creaking, groaning, and cracking were dull noises in the background until the fire that started in my gut became a raging inferno. Every inch of me felt enflamed. A howl escaped my lips, and I was vaguely aware when it turned into a scream.

The scream stopped, and I lay on the grass panting, utterly worn. And then I felt cold wind on my sweaty skin.

Oh. My. Word.

I was naked. In skin! But totally, completely, naked-as-the-day-I-was-born, naked in front of Sam Wolfe.

I felt him drape his jacket around my shoulders, and I gripped it around me, covering as much of my exposed self as possible. My humiliation was complete even as my brain was spinning.

"Turn around," I rasped.

"What? Are you okay?" He sounded totally baffled.

"No! I am definitely not okay! I am naked!"

"Meg?" He trailed off.

I took a huge gulp of air and rolled the thoughts through my aching head. Blood. Fur. Claws. Skin. I felt a nudge inside me—the creature was still there. Werewolf. They—I—were real and not the product of over-active imaginations. I choked back the horror. Okay. Focus on what I could control. Process the insanity later.

"Did you see anything?" I croaked.

"As little as possible," he replied.

I knew full well he must have gotten quite an eyeful. At least he was attempting to be chivalrous and reduce the confusion, insecurity, and mortification swirling inside me. The rational part of my brain knew it was stupid to be worrying about my nakedness when my body had just defied the laws of physics. But nakedness I felt I could control. Turning into a wolf? Not so much. I grappled with reality and fiction and felt I was teetering on the brink of both.

A sob started building in my chest but before it could escape, a hard fist of irrational anger surged to the front. I sucked in a breath through my teeth, barely containing my wild emotions.

"Are you okay right here for a minute? I've got some extra clothes in my trunk."

I sniffed and nodded.

"Meg?"

I forgot he had turned as I'd asked him and hadn't seen me nod. "Yes."

Wrapping my arms and the sleeves of his jacket around me, I watched him jog to his car. I shivered. It was cold. I was naked. I was in pain. And I'd just turned into a wolf.

Laugh? Cry? Commit myself to a mental institution? All three? I hardly knew what to think. I prided myself on being a relatively rational, logical sort of person. But rationality and logic were utterly failing me now. My emotions were ratcheting around inside me, and I was sure I was going to explode any minute. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I pictured Grandma Elsie's face, all warm and wrinkled and round, with a dusting of flour on her cheek that she often had when we'd baked together. Another breath. Anger still simmered below the surface while tears leaked without my permission from the corners of my eyes. I gripped Sam's jacket around me like a lifeline.

Leaves crunched as Sam returned with a wad of clothes.

"I'll leave them here and turn around again." He briefly met my eyes as he put the clothes on the ground beside me, and to his credit, his eyes didn't drift anywhere else.

I tried to scramble for the clothes, but it felt like I had to unlock each joint and focus each muscle to make it move. I'd never been this clumsy—like I was numb but completely on fire while trying to wade through chest-deep gelatin.

"The stiffness is normal. It'll pass after a while, and you won't be sore at all after shifts," Sam tried to encourage me, apparently hearing my awkward attempts to get dressed. I silently seethed at him and couldn't quite help the sob that escaped as I tugged the gray sweatshirt over my head. I hurt all over, and I did not want to be a…I couldn't even think the word. My brain refused to process what had just happened to me. Werewolf. I forced my mind into submission. The internal presence nudged me again, and I flinched.

"All right." My voice was rusty.

He turned. His face contorted in distress. Some—but not much—of my panicked anger faded at his miserable expression.

"Meg, I don't even know where to start. Let's get you back in the car where at least it's warm."

He held out an arm to help me, but I ignored it. At that moment, I wanted nothing to do with Sam Wolfe. The thing inside me lurched happily toward Sam's outstretched hand, and I stumbled as I resisted the beast"s movements. Pride and anger won out over the creature's sudden fondness for the boy with the shaggy blond hair and blue eyes. My eyes landed on my shoe. What was left of it. The leopard spotted ballet flat was ripped apart where presumably, my paw had gone through it.

"Those were my favorite shoes," I said wistfully. One more casualty to add to the list tonight.

"I'm so sorry, Megan," Sam whispered.

I blundered over a fallen branch in my bare feet but still refused the arm Sam offered.