Does no’ matter now. “Such a cuff would be a temporary solution,” Munro forced himself to say, “but mayhap it’d work long enough for her to gain control.”
“That’s all? We’re on it! We’ll return by the full moon.”
A couple of nights from now? You’re dreaming.
Will squeezed his shoulder. “She will come back to you.” As Munro had once said to Will about Chloe, he added, “Brother, give the lass a chance.”
FIFTY-SEVEN
full moon eve
Stone pine, wildness, and man. The most addictive scent Ren had ever imagined.
She had to investigate that scent. Curiosity flared, and it was enough to lure her out of the darkness.
Her fingers twitched. Her toes. Her eyes moved behind her lids.
Hadn’t she heard Munro’s voice, raw with emotion? Return to me! But a lot of time seemed to have passed since then, and he’d stopped talking to her.
She cracked open her eyes. Where am I? Why do I feel so amazing? Her body was boundless, filled with life.
Hazy memories surfaced. She’d been clawed by a Wendigo! Munro had bitten her! Why were those memories so dim?
Because you died, dummy.
Ah.
One thing she remembered with a crystalline clarity: she was in love with Munro MacRieve.
Her sight cleared until she could see him standing by a window. Phone at his ear, he spoke to someone in a monotone voice.
Though the last rays of the sun painted him in a golden light, he looked like death. Eyes bloodshot. Skin pale. He must be worried sick about her! How long had she been gone?
She sat up to reach for him, stunned to see the black claws tipping her fingers. Her tongue rubbed one of her new fangs. Her heart beat faster as realization sank in. I’m—she swallowed—immortal.
When she inhaled Munro’s scent, a voice spoke into her mind: —YOURS!—
That must be the Instinct. They’d done it! He’d made her into a werewolf, had spread the fire to give her a beast of her own.
And that beast was stirring.
She frowned down at her chest. The force inside her scrabbled for release, expanding, taking up too much room in her body. The lit match had turned into a firestorm.
Her fangs lengthened in her mouth. When she clenched her fists, her claws punctured her skin. Those injuries regenerated, her flesh mending before her bewildered eyes.
As the beast inside her took control of her movements, the Instinct boomed: —LEARN. ADAPT. OR PERISH!—
This wildness within her couldn’t be contained.
She tried to speak; words refused to cross her lips.
Ren could never even tell Munro good-bye.
“Get me to the Fyre Dragán,” Munro told Loa.
She exhaled into the phone but didn’t argue with him. And what could she say anyway? The reason for your existence is gone, true, but you’ll rally! “When do you want to leave, friend?”
The moon heightened all Lykae emotions; Munro’s intent to join Kereny had become ice-cold and indisputable. He’d already waited too long. Each second that he was apart from her was one second too many.
His future with his mate had boiled down to four steps.
One: Bury Kereny tonight.
Two: Journey to the Dragán.
Three: Die.
Four: Find his mate in the afterlife and be with her there.
“I leave tomorrow. . . .” He trailed off when a shadow crossed the corner of his vision. Was there a second heartbeat nearby?
As he turned, he inwardly begged, Please be her, please, gods, let it be . . .
Kereny.
She stood on the other side of room.
“You’re alive.” His phone dropped to the floor.
She’d pulled through! His bite had healed, which meant she was regenerating.
A chuff of relief burst from his chest, and he ran his arm over his blurry eyes. “I will never doubt you again. Your determination saw you through once more.”
Her newling blue gaze met Munro’s eyes, and her body stilled. Was her beast recognizing its mate for the first time? Was he hers?
Munro had to shuffle his feet to remain standing, not only from the shock of her resurrection but from the beauty of her feminine beast. “Great gods, Kereny.”
Overlaying her body was the image of her wolf, with its lupine features and mouthwatering curves. Her lips were stark red against white teeth and fangs.
The ice blue of her eyes called to his primal memories, stoking his body. His beast howled inside him for this incomparable she-wolf.
Kereny was now an immortal Lykae, her scent altered somewhat, but still much the same.
Exquisite.
Yet at the same time, her newling state made Munro roil. Would he never see her copper-colored eyes again?
He actually needed that control cuff now, but he’d left the task in Will’s hands? Worse, the sun had just set. As soon as the moon rose, the light would possess him, drawing forth his own beast.
Doubly worse, Munro had no contraception. Of course, that would only be a problem if they were mated. She would fight his claim otherwise.
“I ken you canna reply to me, but you can hear me and understand. We’re at Glenrial, and it’s dangerous for you to be in this part of the settlement.” The wards were staying with Madadh—Munro thought—but a newling needed to be miles away from anyone still vulnerable to injury. “Would you like to spend the night deep in the woods and test out the changes within you? I want to show you the bayou from my photos.”
She raised her face, caught a scent. Her muscles tensed to explore new stimuli. Her beast was only just born; every stimulus was new.
He held his hands up. “Stay with me, sweet.”
She sprang for the door, threw it open, yanking it off its hinges. She seemed confused that she was holding a door.
“Hand it over, nice and slow.”
She tossed it at him and ran toward the stairs.
He dove to the floor, narrowly dodging the door. It whistled over his head, sliced through the wall, then landed somewhere outside. He leapt to his feet, behind her in a flash.
But she tore down the steps, moving like a blur. He vaulted over the banister to cut her off. She ran to his left—just a feint—then raced to his right.
“Damn it, Kereny!”
She ripped open the front door and careened outside. Rather than going around Munro’s truck, her beast picked it up and flung it out of her way. Airborne!