Page 2 of Dead Wolf Walking (Bad Moon Academy 1)
Lifting my hand, I swing my fist toward the person brave enough to wake me.
“None of that,” Aunt Lou says, catching my fist in her hand and squeezing it before releasing my fingers. “Do you mind explaining to me what the hell you’re doing on this porch?”
Peeling one eye open, I glance around. My back aches from lying on the wooden floor, and I’m trembling from the chill in the air.
“I… I don’t know. What time is it?”
The last thing I remember is… the wolf.
Darkness.
Being bitten.
That savage howl.
I open my other eye and sit, staring at the yard. Across the patches of dead grass, at the edges of our sidewalk, is the forest. In the early morning hour, there’s a faint fog hugging the ground, but there are no beasts in sight.
“Are you even listening to me?” Aunt Lou’s gaze hardens when I swing mine to meet hers.
She doesn’t believe me.
It’s not the first time she’s found me on the porch. Though, usually, I have a raging hangover to thank for waking up like this.
“No more, Raven.” She places her hands on her hips. “The next time I find you out here, I’m sending you back to rehab.”
Gritting my teeth, I fight off a scowl. “You know I haven’t had a drink since before I went last year.”
The last time she found me out here, I had a damn good reason for stealing her vodka. Isn’t it perfectly normal for a teenager to want to drink? Not that any normal teenager guzzles a bottle of vodka like it’s soda pop, but that’s beside the point. The last time I had alcohol was over a year ago, right after my seventeenth birthday.
“Did something happen?”
Her hazel green eyes cloud with concern, and she shoves her graying bangs out of her face. She’s probably wondering what set me off. How do I tell her I was attacked by a wolf?
The bite.
Glancing down, I see specks of blood covering the torn strap of my tank top. Scowling at it, I yank my shirt aside, exposing my intact skin. Not even a scratch.
“What the fuck?” It’s not possible. I felt the pain. I was attacked.
A wave of power pulses around me.
What was that?
“Excuse me?” Aunt Lou says with a huff.
Scrambling to stand, I take a step down the stairs. Something shifts deep in the forest.
“Raven, get back here.”
It moves again.
A sudden cold dread settles in the pit of my stomach. I know he’s out there. The heavy weight of those menacing eyes rests against my spine; my fight or flight instincts scream at me torun.
“Get inside,” I shout back to my aunt.
A low threatening growl brushes over my skin. The hairs on the back of my neck rise, and my heart gives a heavy thump against my rib cage. He’s come back.
Why didn’t he kill me the first time?
