Chapter 160

My husband won the race fair and square—at least that was the story I intended to stick to. I heard him howl a piercing, triumphant, yet purely animal sound and knew the exact moment that he had reached the stream.

Not wanting to give the wolf reason to come after me, I quickened my pace to it and eventually saw him by the stream, moving anxiously, sniffing the air and calculating my distance. I love my husband, but at the present moment he wasn't Paul. He was the werewolf. Sleek dark fur covered a body that was now easily seven feet tall. A tail, sheathed in a mixture of coarse as well as downy fur curled behind him. While he sat awaiting my approach, the tail thumped the ground expectantly until he rose anxiously, pacing back and forth. Werewolves don't really look like wolves because although they used all four limbs to move, they still had distinct arms and distinct legs—each rippling with muscles.

The wolf appearance began at the head where an elongated canine snout and a mout