Page 74 of Lost Girl

"Pretty much," I concur. “But really it has more to do with their emotions. All it takes is one time for them to lose control, to give into that rage swimming in their veins, and that’s it. From what I know, a violent act doesn’t necessarily have to precede it.”

"Is that how it works for wolves, too?" she questions, shoving Peter and the Fae aside without care.

"No, thankfully. All wolves make the first shift on their twenty-third year. It's inevitable."

"How does someone know if they are?”

"There’s certain signs to look out for. Usually a shifter will start showing an increased temperament around eighteen or so. Sporadic at first, then more frequent and prominent as the time approaches, along with sense of smell, vision changes, etcetera."

Wendy reaches for my hand then, gently tracing the lines in my calloused palm. "Does it hurt?"

“Shifting or the callouses?” I chuckle, knowing damn well what she means.

“Shifting.” She laughs, too.

"The first few times, yes.” I could shudder just remembering it. “You can feel every bone in your body cracking in multiple places as you prepare to shift from human to beast. It gets better, though. Happens so fast now I don’t even feel my clothes ripping to shreds."

She squirms at the mention of ripped clothing but seems to recover rather quickly, clearing her throat. "I've realized you can pretty much do it whenever, too. The lores I've been told all say you need a full moon."

"Yeah, no, not at all.”These mortals and their stories.“The moon affects our disposition, but we can shift as often or as little as we please."

“Interesting.” She peeks up at me beneath her lashes. "One more question and I swear I'll shut my trap."

Don’t you dare."Ask as many questions as you'd like, little wolf. We’ve got nothing but time."

A ballsy implication, but she doesn’t deny it.

"When your dad said you nearly slaughtered Hook's men, what did he mean by that? Was that a moon thing?"

"Yes and no,” I sigh. “The moon was out, fueling my rage, but that rage came as a result of their disrespect. My people often celebrate our ancestors on full moons. They congregate on the reservation—where I took you that first night—and the vampires were trampling around there that night. Almost the whole lot of them were intoxicated. They were littering, causing a hoot. I asked them in the nicest way possible, and on more than one occasion, to please leave, but they refused to listen, mocked me to hell and back. So I shifted out of impulse and ran them off. Mauled the fuck out of a few, too."

Wendy inhales a sharp breath. "Is your bite lethal?"

"To them? Yes. But, of course, they've found a cure for that, so after a day or two, the leeches I brought down were right back on their feet." I can feel the way my lip curls simply voicing it aloud. There’s nothing more frustrating than having the power to take someone down, only to have that power stripped away by a source that shouldn’t exist.

Pa says it’s called balance. I call it bullshit.

"I’m assuming that's why Hook took your sister?”

"Yeah, 'cause her dumb ass volunteered." My eyes roll in a perfect circle. Fucking Tigerlily and her valiant crusades.

"But your dad said he would've killed you otherwise?"

"Ehhh, I don’t know about all that to be honest. That’s coming from a man who claims Hook respects him. If the leech values him as much as he believes to be true, the worst he would've done is keep me down there where they had you. Maybe rough me up a bit."

"You're right. Executing the Chief's son when his men were out of line doesn’t seem like it’d blow over well."

“Exactly. Not to mention he agreed to keep them off our land during full moons out of respect. So he’s either full of shit and let them roam, or they went against his rule.”

"Considering what I’ve learned about them in my time here, I’m going to go with the latter. Hook isn’t my favorite person, not by any means, but he was far kinder to me than the rest. Never laid a finger on me. Armand, however—"

"Wendy?" Persia’s voice interjects. "All done."

Except we’re not done because my brain is still stuck on one very alarming fact.Armand.That motherfucker is the worst one of them all.

I watch in what feels like slow motion as Wendy rises to her feet to claim the small satchel Persia’s offering.

What. Did. That. Bastard. Do. To. Her?

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