Page 50 of Wind with a Chance of Wolfsbane

My gaze locked on the wolf’s and I gave it my all—running as fast as I could. I was almost to him when Dragos slammed into me again, his smell giving him away.

I went down hard and fast, and my glasses fell from my face as I outstretched my arm. I managed to get my hand and wrist past the cave barrier.

The black wolf bit down hard on my arm and yanked me free from the cave so fiercely that I thought he’d tear my arm off. He dragged me several feet from the cave opening and released my arm. He then shifted back into human form right next to me, giving me an up-close view of his junk.

I’d have reacted more had I not been on death’s doorstep. As it was, I just wanted to close my eyes and rest right after I checked on my sister. “Mina?”

He bit his wrist, much like Raven-Hair had done. He shoved it toward my mouth.

I pushed back at it. “Mina?”

“She lives,” he said. “Drink, or you will not!”

“I’m not drinking your—” The asshole shoved his wrist into my mouth, and his blood coated my tongue.

“Sisters,” said Redhead. “The twin who is not much of a fighter is gravely injured. She may not survive the conversion.”

I knew she was talking about me. It didn’t endear her any to me.

“Can I keep her if she dies?” asked Blondie, making me like her even less than her redheaded sister. “I have such pretty gowns to dress her in.”

“Silence!” shouted Naked-Guy.

I wanted to yell too, to tell them I had more fight in me than they were giving me credit for. It didn’t go as planned. All I managed to do was push Naked-Guy’s wrist from my mouth as I coughed and choked on his blood.

Seconds after I swallowed it, a pain like no other came over me. I screamed, and random visions assailed me, flashing through my head at an alarming rate, giving me tiny glimpses of things that didn’t make sense.

Was I delirious and on death’s doorstep?

What the hell had Naked-Guy had in his blood?

I saw flashes of him but with clothing on. He was in another high-end suit like he’d been when he’d met with Helen. He was with a different man, however. One I could only see from the back, yet one who was oddly familiar.

Another image flashed through my mind of the incident in Detroit in the parking lot two weeks prior. Rapid-fire snapshots of White-Shirt Guy started hitting me, coming in between the waves of pain that wracked my body.

Be calm,said a deep masculine voice in my head. The voice had a distinct British accent, and it sounded just like White-Shirt Guy.The more you fight it, the more painful it will be.

Hot tears streamed down my temples as I lay on the ground, partially in Naked-Guy’s lap, of all places. I did my utmost best to concentrate on being near death, not near a dude’s junk.

I wasn’t sure what the voice was trying to warn me of. What would be more painful?

The conversion, said the English-accented voice.

Conversion? What in the hell did he think I was converting into?

A wolf,he returned, despite me never outright asking the question.

I couldn’t wrap my mind around what he was saying because I was in excruciating pain. I screamed again, and additional visions came at me quickly. In one, I saw Mina. One second, she was standing before me, and the next, she was nothing more than black mist. In another, I was looking in a mirror, but my reflection wasn’t me. It was a large white wolf. The visions cleared, making way for pain once more.

At some point, darkness finally won, stealing me away from the pain. It was a welcomed relief.

ChapterFifteen

Jonathan

Jonathan jolted awake,only to find he was restrained. His wrists were shackled, and the thick metal chains were secured to the center of the floor. There were long fluorescent overhead lights that had protective cages over them despite being mounted on the ceilings, which were at least five meters high. The buzz coming from the lights was loud, making his already aching head hurt more. The light from them was too bright.

He lifted his arms to shield his face from the light and exhaled sharply when he saw the state that his shirt was in. It was torn and tattered, dangling from his arms by shreds. The front was ripped open as well. He didn’t need to be told how his shirt had gotten this way.

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