Kahanov had taken control of my body. I’d been a puppet. A toy, offered
up to a monster.
I bared my teeth as an animalistic rage rose within me. My bloodthirsty
thoughts echoed in a single chorus: Never again.
8
Jaxson
My body quaked with rage, and my wolf tore at my chest, demanding to
be set free.
I scanned the street as the blood on my claws began to smoke and
evaporate, leaving behind the sickly aroma of overripe fruit. The scent made
me weary, dulling my thoughts.
What was that thing?
Casey’s voice shook me from my dark thoughts. “What the hell are you
doing in our territory, Laurent?”
I slowly turned my attention to the fool LaSalle, who had a ball of flame
hovering in his hand. “Watching out for Savannah. Someone has to.”
He started to speak, but I turned on him and silenced him with my
presence. He was a mosquito.
Laurel LaSalle, on the other hand, had me worried. She hadn’t said a
thing, but her eyes hadn’t left me for an instant. Her gaze was almost painful,
as if it were slowly peeling the skin from my body.
“The moment we find Savannah, you get the hell out of here,
understand?” Casey hissed.
“Gladly.”
He started bellowing Savannah’s name again, but I snarled at him.
“Quiet, asshole. She’s here and afraid. Shouting isn’t going to calm her.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’m a wolf, and I can smell her.”
But it was more than scent. Something was pulling me toward her, a sixth
sense leading me on. Had that always been there?