JoshDreams assaulted me in technicolor, the frantic images of past hunts, of running with my father from rangers and hunters, of hiding in caves and hollow trees. Always in movement,always running from something, my father's face always closed and sad.Beep-beep.Something shrill woke me from my dreams. I shook myself awake, looking around for the source of the noise. Pietra's cell phone. I tapped my muzzle in a vain attempt to shut him up. One of the downsides of being stuck in my wolf form… no opposable thumbs.“Urrrgh. Pietra rolled over, throwing one arm out and hanging up the phone without opening her eyes. I felt a flash of shame at myself. I fell asleep. I was supposed to be guarding Pietra, but I was so exhausted from the night before and all the running…but Pietra was fine. She was still alive. That was all that mattered. I swore never to let my guard down again.Pietra stroked my cheek.“Hey Josh.His voice sounded hoarse with sleep. The eyes fluttered open, the long lashe

- No. I walked away, my head over my shoulder. I pulled hard on the steering wheel. Josh backed away as the Mini bounced across the rutted road, dangerously approaching the wide ditch. At the last second, he straightened and I stumbled towards Crookshollow, Josh's abandoned face haunting me in the rearview mirror.Fuck him with his caveman attitude . I couldn't believe the way they were acting, fighting over me like I was the last piece of steak on the barbecue. I thought the best way to solve their problem was to have them work together to protect the family legacy. Besides, it would be good to distance herself from Josh now that he was human again. My body still throbbed with desire for him. I wanted nothing more than to walk around the car and go back to him, begging him to take me hard over the hood. But then I was just telling him that acting this way was completely normal, and it wasn't.I was just starting to gain control of my life after Dad and Ben. I wouldn't let anyone take

Article by Misty SharpePietra Sinclair, 22, the girlfriend of climber Ben Brownstone, who died horribly when he fell off a cliff in Crookshollow Forest five months ago, wasted no time in getting back into the carefree lifestyle. We interview Sinclair at a remote site in the same forest, where she is working with a crew on a dangerous cave treasure hunting expedition. When asked if the caves were dangerous, Sinclair exclaimed excitedly that there were slipping and falling hazards and lamented that a local park ranger was making them follow safety guidelines.Adrenaline junkie Sinclair took us to see the newly discovered cave paintings, despite neither this reporter nor her photographer wearing proper shoes. She dismissed our concerns about the safety of the caves, saying she wouldn't let something like her boyfriend's death stop her from living her life. She then asked us not to print that specific statement…No. My throat closed up. This can not be happening.I scanned the rest of th

Well, maybe life was too short for me to give up on Josh. I was lucky to love Ben, but he's gone now. And Josh… he's definitely not gone. He made my body feel like no one else did, and he made me want to be daring and excited and adventurous. I haven't felt like this in a long time.All of this was so complicated. I wish someone could tell me what to do . But that was the old Pietra talking, the one who accommodated everyone else's needs at the expense of herself. The one who didn't go to Cambridge and leave her country school in a Sicilian village for the wet and miserable forest of Crookshollow. I wasn't sure it was that girl anymore.I got out of the shower, wrapped myself in a towel, and walked down the hall to my room to find clean clothes. I was digging through my underwear drawer when I felt a strong finger slide down the side of my neck.“I love a girl who's wet for me,” a husky voice whispered in my ear.I leapt a mile into the air, my heart pounding against my chest. My towe

A few minutes later, we found ourselves outside Astarte . I couldn't believe I was back in this store for the second time in a week. The skeptical scientist in me silently rebelled against the crystals and dreamcatchers hanging in the window, though I had to smile at the sign by the door that read, “Tried Yoga Once, Thought It Was A Little Overdone.”I remembered Clara's unique sense of humor and brightened. She was certainly amazing. Also, where was the skeptical scientist when you were having wild sex with a werewolf against your shower wall? My cheeks burned at the memory. I hoped Clara wouldn't be able to read that thought in my letters.Josh smiled when he saw me hesitating.— Do you come to this store often?I shook my head, then pointed to the Porções Encantadas bakery across the street.“That place is much more my style. There were a lot of hipsters and hippies in my early years of taking archeology classes, writing essays postulating the location of Atlantis and having lectur