Prologue
18 months earlier
My favorite smell in the world was the wild during springtime, when the wind bent the evergreens, the rain softened the soil, and the sunshine buffeted our pelts.
A close second was that of summer break. No more weekends spent cramming for exams. No more sitting out pack runs because of homework. No more rising at the crack of dawn to make it before the first bell.
As Grant gunned his brand-new motorcycle out of the compound’s gates, I wrapped my arms around his middle and tipped my head back. The blistering sun poured through my helmet’s visor and licked my shoulders and bare thighs while the wind tangled in my long hair.
Grant sped up when we reached the end of the private road and turned, leaning so far sideways our bodies became parallel to the asphalt. I let out a little yelp of surprise. Although this wasn’t Grant’s maiden voyage astride his rumbling beast, it was mine.
“Is that normal?” I yelled over the motor and wind.
“Is what normal?”
“Tipping so much.”
“Yes, babe! Totally normal.”
I willed his confident thrill to settle my pulse which was currently thumping as fast as the wings of the magpies I’d unintentionally spooked a couple days earlier. The poor birds had taken one look at my wolf and sprang off the deer carcass they were feasting on. To think I was on the scrawnier side of the lycanthropic spectrum. What would they have done had our Alpha, Cassandra Morgan, surprised them? Dropped dead from heart failure?
Couldbirds suffer from heart failure?
Another bend in the road banked our bodies and snuffed out my mental ramblings.
I clamped my thighs around Grant’s and hugged him so tightly my forearms dented his six-pack. For all my love of speed in fur, I wasn’t a fan of it in skin. Especially when I wasn’t in control.
When he righted the motorcycle, I yelled, “Hey, can you slow down a little?”
Grant turned his head and shaped the wordrelaxwith his lips. Fat chance I could relax, especially with his eyes off the road.
Even though I wanted to stick my palms on either side of his bright orange helmet and redirect his attention, there was no way I was releasing his middle, so I settled on screaming, “Watch where you’re going!”
He chuckled as he finally rotated his head back on its axis.
When the road straightened again, my shoulders loosened. Not my grip, though. As long as the engine rumbled and the wind tore around our bodies, I’d choke my boyfriend’s body like a vine.
He turned the death trap again, tilting us harshly, before twisting the handlebars the opposite way. I really wished he’d slow down, but since he didn’t, I cinched his ribs and shut my eyes. Not looking proved more frightening, so I peeked over his shoulder just as we dipped sideways again.
“Grant, come on. Just a little slower.”
He stroked my forearm, probably to reassure me. Instead, it made my heart vault into my throat. I wanted both his hands on the grips where I could see them.
Just as I gritted this out, the front tire slammed into a deep pothole and caught. Grant’s palm flew off my arm, but too late. The handlebar jerked to the side, and then the bike skidded, veering off the road and over the shoulder.
His orange helmet joggled. Became the only thing I could see. Until the tree.
I saw it right before impact.
The crash tore my arms from Grant and sent me soaring. I landed with such a violent thwack that I thought my helmeted head had unhooked itself from the rest of my body and my spine had snapped. My senses dimmed and then awakened when thunder clapped against my eardrums.
It was hot. Blisteringly so. And so damn muggy I could hardly breathe.
“Nikki!” Grant’s voice sounded like it was coming from a mile away.
I attempted to prop myself up, but my legs wouldn’t move.
I blinked, trying to clear my vision, but everything remained blurred and gray.
