I gave her a tight smile because I didn’t know. A month ago I had a cute bump, but dog dick’s super semen had only been in me for three months.
“It depends if they decide to induce me or not,” I said, dodging the question.
Her beaming smile dimmed.
“Is everything okay?” She asked.
“Yes, you know doctors. They can be overcautious.”
“Hmm. Better safe than sorry, I guess,” she said with a nod as her smile returned. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” I said as she tried to give me a hug, but my belly blocked her.
I was about to pull away from her when I saw a man sitting in his truck. It looked out of place on my small street. He had dark hair and looked around thirty. When our eyes met, the hair rose on my arms, but Ginny pulled away from me, and I looked away from him. A few seconds later, the silver truck passed by my house.
Strange things were happening, or I was losing my mind.
Two days later, I went into labour, but that only intensified my paranoia because now I had two babies to protect.
Chapter 7
Garrick
Imani and Omari had been breathing in this world for six weeks. Every night, I slipped through Mercy’s window like a shadow, watching my children sleep. Their tiny chests rose and fell, their scents were all milk and new life, twining together in the dark.
My son. My daughter. They belonged with me, with the pack. Not hidden away in this human house with a mother who didn’t yet understand our dynamics. I resented her kin being able to see our children freely while I snuck around like a thief in the night.
Tonight, I lingered too long.
My fingers traced Imani’s cheek, and the downy softness of her skin made my chest ache. I should have left. But the sound of Mercy stirring in the next room froze me mid-movement.
Too late.
I set Imani down beside Omari and melted into the shadows behind the door just as it creaked open.
Her scent hit me like a physical blow—sweet milk, yes, but beneath it, something more. Something wild and mature. My bite had done more than mark her mine. Yet several full moon cycles had passed, and she hadn’t transformed.
Mercy stepped inside, her silhouette haloed by the hallway light. Then she stopped. Her head tilted. Her nostrils flared as she rapidly sniffed the air several times.
A sound rumbled from her throat—low, rolling, wrong.
Not a wolf’s growl.
The hair on my neck stood on end. Something was off.
She took another step, her body coiled tight. The air thickened with the scent of her fury, her fear.
She knew I was here.
The air left my lungs when Mercy’s spine arched into an unnatural position until the crack resounded around the room.
One second, she was human. All fury and flashing eyes, and the next, her body twisted.
Her fingers curled, nails blackening, lengthening into hooked claws. A guttural groan tore from her throat as her shoulders wrenched backwards, bones popping. Golden fur sprouted in tufts along her spine, coarse and wild, spreading like wildfire down her limbs.
She collapsed onto all fours, panting, her breath coming in ragged, wet gasps.
Then the real pain began.
