Page 22 of Cowboy Bull's Promise

Seasons turning, time stretching, the inevitable crawl toward something bigger than I can name.

Like me and my Bull are standing on the edge of a cliff, and I just don’t know what side we’re going to fall on.

The Rut’s been haunting me ever since my mom found an old Witch back in hometown. Her name was Abigail, and she scared the piss out of me when I was a kid.

But she sat me down and told me the truth.

I never knew how my mom found her, but after so much frustration and not understanding what was happening to me, I was glad she had.

Abigail was the only one who ever really explained what I was. What I’d become.

Bull. Shifter. Cursed.

I didn’t want to hear it then.

Didn’t want to believe I was something more. Or something less.

Now I wish I’d listened harder.

Because the Rut isn’t just some heat cycle or mood swing.

It’s a total collapse of reason. A full-body hijack.

A beast takes over, and all it wants is to claim.

Breed. Possess.

And I don’t know if I’m strong enough to fight it when it comes.

What if I turn into just another feral bastard like my sire?

A walking set of horns and hormones with no soul left behind the eyes?

I’ve never even met another Bull Shifter.

Not once.

For all I know, I’m the last one standing.

And maybe that’s why I’ve spent my whole life running.

Running from what I am.

Running from the blood that’s in me.

Running from the day my stepfather told me I was a freak and shoved me out the door like a kicked dog.

Yeah. Maybe I’m a coward.

But even cowards want to live. Want to belong.

And when I came to Motley Crewd Ranch, I thought maybe, just maybe, I’d found something like home.

Not just a place to sleep.

A place to breathe.

A promise of a real life.

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