“Sawyer Keys.”
I froze at the next name called. Sawyer Keys. He’s my age, twenty-four. I’ve known him all my life. He’d always picked on me in school. Years later, he’d asked me if I’d be his mate. I’d refused him. After shredding his paper-thin ego, he’d gotten off on making my life hell.
Now he was going to die.
I searched the crowded meeting hall for Sawyer. Our eyes locked.
There wasn’t so much as a twinge of happiness on his face like my cousin exhibited. He had a better understanding of what was in store for him. After a moment of intense eye contact, Sawyer ripped his attention away from me and put it back on the Elder who’d pulled his name. A beat later, he gave a silent, dutiful nod.
It was all an act. Sawyer Keys didn’t have so much as one brave bone in his body.
“That’s a shame,” my father grunted. “He would have been a good mate for you.”
This wasn’t the first time my parents suggested Sawyer as a mate. It was abnormal for a female bunny my age to have never taken a mate. Most of the girls my age had at least a few kits. I’d rather die a kitless spinster than be mated to someone like Sawyer.
I’d told my parents that plenty of times before, how I’d rather fuck a rotten carrot than carry Sawyer’s offspring. This time, I kept my mouth shut. It didn’t matter now. Tomorrow, he’d be dead, and all the bitter memories I shared with him would be just that. Memories.
“Ruth Thatch.”
Every single eye in the room turned on me as the Elder called my name.
“Way to go, Ruthie!” Someone from the row behind me patted my back as if to congratulate me on a job well done.
As if I’d somehowearnedthis.
I was in the age group of eligible sacrifices, but I’d never really stressed about being selected. I guess there was a part of me that didn’t care what happened to me… Not after Sarah had been selected last year.
Maybe a piece of me had already died with Sarah.
My father and mother turned toward me and gave me that same look they gave my sister when her name was called. Suddenly, the numbness was gone, and all I felt was pure, dark, dangerousrage.
TWO
CARVER
Easter meant only one thing for my pack.
The Hunt.
It marked the one time of year when we were sanctioned to brutally hunt down and murder a few young rabbit shifters from the local bunny burrow. All for the sake of satiating the thing that made us what we were: werewolves.
It didn’t work like it did in human books and movies. We didn’t transform under the full moon. We could shift year-round at will so long as we maintained control of the wolf within. It took bunny shifter blood to calm that gnawing Hunger, and it would stay in our bloodstream for about a year…
I was different from my pack mates.I didn’t need bunny blood to calm the wolf inside me. It had always been quiet and easy to control. I didn’t need to murder to tame it.
Why was I like this? That was a question I’d asked myself ever since my first shift when all I felt was emptiness. It was twisted to admit, but I sometimes caught myself wishing for that same brutal bloodlust as my pack members. It had to be betterthan feeling nothing at all from the thing inside me that was supposed to be my entire identity.
Even my twin brother had the Hunger.
“You sure you don’t want to join the Hunt?” my brother asked, frowning as he watched me load the cooler of beer into the back of my old Toyota truck.
“Not this shit again, Case.” Irritation underscored my every syllable. “You ask me every year, and my answer is always the same. Do I have to get it stamped on my fucking forehead to have you get the damn picture?”
Casey scrubbed the back of his head with his hand and gave a shrug. “I guess I’m just hoping you’ll say yes this time. I want to hunt with my brother.”
“We go hunting together all the time.”
“Yeah. With guns,” my twin scoffed. “Not as fun as carnivore style, in full shift.”
