The night poured back through me. I shivered, even though I was still fully clothed. Everest—I assumed it had been him—had put me to bed, but he hadn’t stripped my clothes off. The seams of my jeans dug into my skin, and the wire frame of my bra felt engraved into myribs.
I peeled myself from the warm bed and padded to my bathroom. I flicked on the lights, smelling blood before spotting it. Balled pink tissues littered my wastebasket. I moved to the sink and peered at my hellish reflection. My bottom lip was split and swollen, my right cheek was bruised, and my wrist, although no longer torn, sported a purplehematoma.
I turned the shower on and stripped. Red lines streaked my skin, but the imprint of clothing would vanish quickly, unlike my tattered flesh. That would take a couple more hours to heal—if I was lucky. The worst part was that, even if I managed to camouflage the bruise on my cheek, there was nothing I could do about my lip. Everyone would see it. If they learned I’d bit my own self, they’d realize I had no control over my wolf form, which could disqualify me from the Alphacontest.
I returned to my bedroom, grabbed my cell phone that was snoozing, turned off the alarm, and typed a message to Everest.I passed out because I was sick, and my lip split from the fall. Come see me in the kitchen when you wake up.I sent that off, then added:Thank you for staying with me. And for putting me tobed.
And then I got ready for the long day ahead, feeling like my body had been rubbed against the metal ridges of the washboard nailed to the wall of the laundry room, a memento of early life inColorado.
Chapter Seven
The second Ientered the kitchen, Evelyn gasped. “Diosmio!”
She clapped a hand over her mouth and set down her whisk. The runny milk and eggs dripped onto the scratched but gleaming stainless-steelisland.
“Who did that to you?” Even though we were alone in the kitchen and probably the only ones awake in the entire inn, her voice wasquiet.
I didn’t move my gaze off the trickling whisk. “Ifell.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, irises darkened by skepticism. “Against whose fist did youfall?”
“No one. I promise. I was sick, and you know how I get when I’m sick…I pass out.” Which was true. I always passed out when I threwup.
She walked around the island and caught my chin between her fingers, turning my face left and right, inspecting my cheek. I bit down on my lip before remembering the tiny stab wound. I released my lip instantly, then removed my face from herhands.
Her thin, penciled-in eyebrows drew together when her gaze moved over the rest of my body and spotted bruises on my elbows and wrist. “The truth,querida.”
The truth… Could I tell her the truth, or would she run back to L.A. screaming? Or worse, would she stop loving me for who I was? Why hadn’t these things occurred to me before I made her leave everything behind for me? Did I think I could hide my dual nature from herforever?
“It is why you left Boulder in the first place?” she asked. “Someone was hurtingyou?”
“No one was hurting me.” Had Mom told her about Heath? “But it’s the reason we leftBoulder.”
Her eyes glittered furiously as she took in my skin that carried the same camo pattern as the tank underneath my gray uniform. I should probably have gone with longsleeves.
I sighed. “Can you promise not to hate me once I tell you the wholetruth?”
She pressed a hand against her chest, over her heart. “Hate you? It is too late for me to hateyou.”
I sank onto the stepladder Evelyn used as a chair when her knees ached and hung my head in my hands. “You’re going to think I’mcrazy.”
“I would never think such athing.”
“Yes, you will. And you’ll leave.” I’d told Liam nothing could hurt me anymore, but that wasn’t true. Evelyn shunning me, leaving me, that would cause me tremendouspain.
“I will never leaveyou.”
“You swear?” I tipped my head back to stare into her gentleeyes.
“On the Lord above, I swear it. Now tellme.”
“I’m a”—I gulped—“a…werewolf.” My voice was quieter than the fan whirring over thestove.
Evelyn’s rouged mouth gaped. Closed. Gaped again. She reminded me of the trouts Dad and I used to catch fly fishing in the mountain streams. “Unlobo?”
She’d taught me enough Spanish for me to understandlobo: wolf. Even to me, who’d grown up with the knowledge that such fantastical creatures existed, it soundedoutrageous.
With shaky fingers, I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Yes.”
