Chapter 1

Rain poured down from the gloomy March sky. The panes of my window wept under the onslaught, thunder rattling the loose glass with each boom. The warped wood of the frame was soft with rot. The pile of rags I slept in was quickly becoming damp from the growing puddle on the cracked linoleum. Sometimes I wish I’d never survived.

I blinked twice before selecting the two worst rags from the pile and used them to mop up what water I could in an effort to salvage the remainder of my bedding. Using the soaked rags I did my best to create a barrier around the puddle. It would at least slow the inevitable. The closet I called a room was barely wide enough for me to lay down in, a mere six paces wide and only four paces across. I knew I would be soaked in the morning when I awoke; I only hoped this time I wouldn’t become sick as I had in the past.

The family I lived with, the Liviers, tried to be understanding whenever I became ill. However, without their supernatural healing abilities, I remained sickly much longer than the others. A soft rapping from the wall beside my door startled me from my thoughts. Blinking owlishly, I turned, “Darrien?”

“Hey, Emi, I thought you might be cold, so I brought you one of the towels from my room.” My adoptive brother stated, holding out what used to be a rather luxurious grey bath sheet.

“You don’t have to—” I began before he cut me off with a wave.

“I’m going to sleep in my wolf form tonight, I’ll be plenty warm.” He interjected. “Besides, your room is draftier than mine. At least my window doesn’t leak.”

I nodded and wrapped the pseudo blanket around myself. It warded off the worst of the chill as my meager body heat worked to keep me from hypothermia. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” He replied softly. He lingered in my doorway, the expression on his face giving away his thoughts. Darrien hated how desperately poor we were. I’d lost count of the times he’s told me how he was sorry for the state of my room, the state of the house, and for being in the servant class of his pack. While Darrien’s parents merely tolerated me I could often find true care in my adoptive brother. He hesitated a moment longer before offering, “You could always sleep in my room, with me. It would be warmer, and you’d stay dry.”

“Darrien,” I protested softly, memories of my past encounters with his wolf form flooding my mind. I’d found out only a year after being taken in by Darrien and his family that werewolves were nothing like what I’d thought. While at their most powerful during the full moon, these creatures could take on their wolf form whenever they chose; and not only did their bodies transform, the mind did as well. Darrien was a completely different person in his wolf form.

It was a beautiful autumn day, warm sunlight filtered through the colorful maple leaves above us. My slight, ten-year-old frame was sprawled among the roots of the ancient tree. The rough bark bit into the flesh on my back and thighs while my hair lay slew in the rich soil. I kept my eyes closed and willed the Earth beneath me to swallow me whole, for as much as I tried I couldn’t quell the shaking in my limbs or the terror spilling off of me in waves. I didn’t dare move.

Darrien hovered over me, fully wolf. His hackles raised to reveal wickedly sharp teeth lining a powerful jaw that could rip me apart effortlessly. Warm saliva dripped from his lips. I didn’t have the nerve to wipe it from my face, trying not to breathe as it rolled down my cheek. I could feel his eyes on me, just as I could feel his growl reverberating in my bones.

“D, pl-pl-please.” I gasped, tears welling behind my eyelids as I felt him shift his stance. “Do-do-don’t, do-do-don’t dddddddddddd- dddddddddddd-, p-p-p-p-p.”

My breath caught in my chest, strangling the words as I desperately tried to force them out. I didn’t know if Darrien could understand me, or if he cared to in this state. I’d been a fool when I’d asked to see his wolf. My stupid human curiosity was going to get me killed. I sobbed, unable to bite it back in time, violent trembling took over my body as terror finished seeping its way through my very core. A soft breeze ruffled my hair. A remorseful sigh filtered through my thoughts. The drying spittle was wiped from my face, along with my tears.

“Emi,” his voice came. I didn’t dare look, instead curling in on myself. “Emilia, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should never have agreed to show you, my wolf. Please tell me I didn’t hurt you. Please Emi….”

“You know why I can’t do that,” I said, unable to meet his eyes.

“That was before,” Darrien argued. “I was thirteen and I didn’t know you in my wolf form. I’d never hurt you Emi, you know that.”

“I know,” I replied. I pulled the towel tighter across my back. I tried not to flinch when he reached for me.

“Come on, I won’t be able to live with myself if you get sick because of this. Besides, you know the pack’s annual spring equinox ball is next week; so you won’t be able to rest if you do catch a cold.” He pressed, lightly gripping my free hand. I felt the natural warmth Darrien’s hand exuded radiating up my arm. Damn these cold nights. Damn werewolves and their insufferable festivals. Damn them and their unnaturally high body temperatures. Damn this house and its leaky windows. Damn it all. A curt nod was my only reply.

With a warm grin, Darrien pulled me from the cramped space and into the hallway. I followed him around the corner and into his equally ramshackle room. Darrien’s room was barely bigger than mine, the torn twin mattress taking up at least half the floor space, but at least it was dry. I adverted my eyes as he pulled his shirt over his head. We had little to spare and Darrien had lost shirts through transformation in the past. I heard him remove the remainder of his clothing from my position by the wall. A soft woof caught my attention.

I glanced hesitantly at the large, shaggy grey wolf beside me; my hands trembled beneath the towel. Darrien looked up at me from his four-legged form, his eyes seemed to plead my trust. I allowed him to lead me over to his mattress. His snout nudged my knees, instructing me to sit. Hesitantly I complied, perching on the edge of the worn mattress. Darrien climbed up beside me and curled up. His head rested on his front paws as he watched me. I felt the tension in my muscles, ready to bolt if he became aggressive or territorial. Darrien snorted at me indignantly, I knew he could smell my fear.

He shifted, which caused the mattress to creak in protest. I felt his teeth gently gripping the towel and released it on instinct. I knew wolves were extremely possessive of their things; I also knew it would crush Darrien if I tried to leave. I jumped when I felt his teeth around my forearm, anticipating a sickening crunch and extreme pain. Instead, he merely tugged me closer. I allowed him to guide me into a reclining position, resting my head by his shoulders. Darrien’s fur was surprisingly soft as it tickled my cheek. I felt myself relaxing into his fur, instinctively snuggling in closer. For the first time in six months, I didn’t feel cold.