Page 24 of Sigils & Spells

I hold onto that notion, hoping that maybe that will save us all some time, at least until Evie can make the potion Ivan requires…

And no one gets hurt in the meantime. Time, that’s what we need. Time to execute a better plan.

Dr Fitton takes my pulse, and a part of me wants to smack him away, but I’m also certain that would only feed into their little drama act. I need to let them do what they need to, and when they see I’m fine, they’ll exit and let Evie get back to what she needs to.

“Pulse is stable,” Dr. Fitton says, looking at Ivan. They exchange a look that I can only describe as sketchy.

“Time is five minutes,” Ivan says coolly. “Most have shifted by this point.”

“I told you it wasn’t ready…” Evie protests. Ivan looks at her with a vicious grin.

“Or perhaps,” his voice deepens, echoing into a strange growl as I watch him crack his neck. The veins there bulge and I notice his muscles start to stretch, and the distinct sound of bones crunching and snapping pops in the silence of the room.

I’m horrified by the sight, but I can’t look away, like a train wreck.He’s one of them.

My hackles rise and my blood races beneath my skin. I can feel my own muscles contracting, tendons pulling, and the queasiness gives way to something else, something different.

Hunger.

My mouth runs dry and my shoulders tense as I stare at the half-man half-beast in front of me.

“…perhaps our dear Angel just needs a gentle push in the right direction," Ivan says, his voice some garbled mishmash of demonic and human.

And then like some god damned Power Ranger, his entire body snaps, crackling and popping as his clothing tears apart at the seams, making way for thicker, furrier muscles. His waist bends and breaks until he’s hunched on the floor, claws digging at the concrete. When he rears his head, he isn’t human anymore.

He’s a wolf. A large monstrous wolf with those same cold, icy mad eyes, and I am powerless to stop what happens to me.

Inside my brain I know the wolf in front of me is a threat to me, to my mate.

Mate?

I’ve never called anyone a mate before, but this sudden, possessive voice in my brain knows without a doubt in the world that is what she is.

Mine.

And the moment Ivan’s glacial gaze drifts to Evie, it happens. Like a firecracker exploding on impact I feel my entire beingshift.

I know on some instinctual level that this is the only way I can protect what’s mine. My bones reforge into something completely foreign, and my body temperature rises. There isn’t any scent of smoke or charred flesh, only the scent of hot saliva, of disgusting mold and mildew, of bleach.

I can smelleverythingin this room, feel every pulse and heartbeat that doesn’t belong to me.

I open my mouth to speak, but instead all that comes out is an angryroar.

Ivan opens his massive jaws and lets out an angry howl back, and then he lunges for Evie.

Dr. Fitton steps in, but it’s no use, Ivan throws him to the side, and he hits his head on the silver bars, falling to the ground.

Instinct takes over and I am scared to death. But the voice in my head, something so deep and full of fire tells me he’s got this.

We’ve got this.

All I need to do is give him control.

This … entity that didn’t exist before in my consciousness begs me to let him in, to let him take over. I don’t understand it, but there’s no time for a crash course. Not when Ivan is challenging me for what’s mine.

So I say yes.

What else can I say?

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