CHAPTER 1

Hannah

"I was so resistant in the first year. It was like everything that was new to me, every part of me that had changed, I hated. I drank too much. I considered…" Frank wet his lips, as he did every week at this part of his story. I tensed on the uncomfortable metal folding chair, bracing against a speech Frank never made.

I considered taking my own life. I was afraid I would hurt someone, or worse, turn them into a monster like me.

"I considered cheating on my wife. I thought I was an animal, that I wouldn't be able to control myself. But my wife found this group for me," he continued, chin lifting, eyes glittering with just enough red around the rims to believe it might've been with tears. "And it was here that I came to accept what I am. Who I am now. Regardless of how it happened. I am what I am."

"I am what I am," the circle echoed. I mouthed the words a beat too late.

Frank's cheeks pinked. "And there are good parts. The animal in me keeps my wife happy, that's for sure."

I ducked my head, letting my dark hair hide my cringe as the men all chuckled and the other women shifted and sighed and pretended amusement. Every damn time, Frank. I wondered if his wife knew how much he liked to brag about fucking her in our support group.

"Thank you for sharing, Frank," said Diane, our leader with the patience of a saint, the voice of a soothing grandmother, and vivid yellow-green eyes that made it obvious to anyone on the street what she was.

Werewolf.

"Thanks, Frank," the circle intoned.

Frank sat, sighing with relief, even after telling the same exact story he shared week after week. He did it for the new folks, he said. I thought he did it for the punchline about his wife.

"Hannah," Diane prompted, and my spine straightened as those glowing, cautionary, beautiful eyes caught mine. "Is there anything you'd like to share?"

I wake up, drenched in sweat, from the same nightmare memory four times a week now instead of five. I'm ruining all my personal relationships because I can't control my moods. I nearly bit a man in a bar who fucked me behind a dumpster before the last full moon.

I shook my head. "Not this week."

Diane's lips pursed, but she nodded, her gaze flicking briefly to Theo, my mentor. Theo was tall, gangly, broad-shouldered, and studious. His eyes remained a relaxed brown, even as we neared the full moon. He was mild-mannered, friendly, almost timid, and best of all, one of the only men in the circle who didn't boast about his werewolf libido or how happy his wife was. To be fair, I'd met Natalie a number of times, and she was far more likely to boast for him, so maybe that was why.

Theo ignored Diane's glance and the circle moved on smoothly. This was our routine. Someone would stand and talk about their life, the ways being bitten had changed their routines, relationships, body, and diet. Eventually, Diane would turn to me, invite me to speak. And every week, I would answer the same: "Not this week."

What could I say that hadn't already been said? I didn't choose this. I didn't want this.

Ian had been a vegetarian when he was bitten, but he'd given into the cravings for meat and was happier for it. Good for him. Nancy had grown up in purity culture and struggled with the sexual urges, but now she was carefully and consensually discovering sexual pleasure and open relationships. Good for her. Ben's ten-year relationship with a girlfriend dissolved when he realized he was experiencing mating urges for his best friend, and now he was proudly queer, happily mated, and thriving with his newly and voluntarily turned werewolf fiancé. Good for them.

I hated being a werewolf, hated the monster who turned me, hated that I was now like them. Good for me.

"I am what I am," the circle recited, and this time I didn't bother moving my lips.

"Sorry," I said the second Theo joined me at the fruit plate. The big crowd was surrounding the charcuterie board, and I had this smaller platter more or less to myself.

Theo shrugged. "You know it doesn't hurt me if you don't want to talk with the group." He took a breath, and we said the next words in unison. "It hurts you."

Theo snorted and shook his head. "I'm getting predictable."

"I'm not ready," I said.

Theo nodded. "Okay."

He was twitching, leaving the pause between us, waiting for me to bite.

"But?" I cued.

"But the premise of the group isn't that you wait until you're healed to share. It's that we heal together by sharing. You might find more benefit if you…participated." Theo laughed at whatever he saw on my face, and I fought to smooth my expression as he raised his hands in surrender. "Fine. End of lecture. Natalie would like you to please come over and work whatever magic you have on our son."

My shoulders softened, and I smiled in earnest. Theo and Natalie's home was like a fairy tale to me, idyllic and comforting in its simplicity, a cozy redstone in Albany Park. Before meeting Theo, it'd been a long time since I'd spent time with a family like theirs, a world away from my father and his legacy.