There was no pretending anymore. I was turning into a werewolf.
I dug my clawed fingers into the side of the sink as I turned every
scenario over in my head. How had this happened?
Jaxson had told me that it was practically impossible to catch lycanthropy
from a bite, and while I’d been scratched and clawed and knocked around by
werewolves, I hadn’t ever been bitten.
I closed my eyes, recalling the events of the past two weeks. The rogue
wolves had hauled me off to an old sanitorium and drained my blood. They’d
also injected me with something. I’d thought it was designed to repress my
magic, but what if it was something worse?
Had those bastards done this to me? Had they tried to turn a LaSalle into
a werewolf?
Fuck.
Trembling, I leaned forward and bared my teeth in the mirror. They
looked normal, despite the deep ache in my upper and lower jaw. I used my
knuckle to push aside my lip so I could inspect my gums, and…fucking hell.
They were swollen and red, and touching them made the pain worse.
This isn’t happening, this isn’t happen—
A jarring noise shook me from my thoughts, and I looked around wildly.
The door handle rattled again as someone tried to get in. I covered my
ears as they started pounding on the door. The sound was almost deafening.
“This one’s taken,” I croaked, my throat suddenly drier than a bone. “Use
the other!”
I had to find a way to fight this.
Agony exploded through my stomach, and I doubled forward, leaning my
weight on the sink. Tears streamed from my eyes, mixing with the blood on
the porcelain. I could smell the blood—just one of a hundred scents filtering
through my mind, most of them revolting.
I gasped as a sharp pain erupted through my jaw, and I looked up in
horror. Blood ran from my lips. I’d sprouted fangs. Fuck!