that you have control and I don’t. It’s fucked up. She should obey me, not
you.”
I wanted to go to her, but my feet were frozen to the stone tiles. “You and
your wolf are the same, Savannah. You need to stop treating her as something
different or her feral instincts will have power over you. Accept that she’s a
part of you, and then you’ll get control.”
“She’s not a part of me. This is something someone did to me.” Savannah
snapped her head around. “I fucking hate being a werewolf.”
A knife twisted in my chest as bile tinged my mouth.
I let the silence hang in the air, softly inhaling the scent of her body and
her emotions. Resentment. Bitterness. Loathing.
Savannah despised my power over her, despised being a werewolf, and
despised everything I was and stood for. How much more would she hate me
if she found out that we were fated mates? That she had no cho
ice in the
matter?
More than anything, Savannah Caine despised being told what to do. Her
anger would be apocalyptic.
I gave a low, bitter growl. The fates rarely chose people who were good
for each other. The three sisters generally made the cruelest pairings, then sat
back to watch the world burn.
Billy and my sister had fed off each other. They’d fought and squabbled
just as much as they’d fucked, and they’d pushed each other to drink and
danger. But the thing that they’d bonded over more than anything else was
their hatred of the LaSalles. Ultimately, that hatred had ended my sister, and
then Billy.
I didn’t want to be bound up in some twisted, ironic knot of fate with a
woman turned werewolf who hated everything we were.
I had to fix this.
It’s fate. You can’t fix it.