Page 98 of Dead Wolf Walking (Bad Moon Academy 1)
“The hospital?” I ask, running a finger over where his lips brushed my skin.
He catches the movement, and his blue eyes darken. “I guess you can call it that, though the wolfsbane treatments aren’t what I’d call medically approved. Anyway, all newly changed wolves are processed and quarantined for six days before they’re brought here on the seventh.”
“I was sedated the entire time.”
With a grimace, he rolls onto his side, placing his head on his hand. “You fought them.”
I nod. “Of course I did.”
“Not everyone does. Those weaker shifters, like someone who becomes an omega, don’t do that.”
I can’t relate to those shifters because it’s hard for me to imagine being so subdued after you’d been stuck in a hospital and injected with wolfsbane.
“You were brought here and put in your room. They must have pumped you full of medicine before you got here because you were out cold.”
Running my hands over my arms, I try to block out the memory of the doctor holding me down. If I hadn’t run in the forest that night, everything would be different. I’d still be at home, no wolves in sight.
I have to find a way to get back to Aunt Lou.
“You should lie down.” He pats the space in front of me. “I don’t bite.”
“We both know that’s not true,” I grump but slide down all the same because my eyes are getting tired.
Now I understand why Mom always told me not to work necromancy; it’s exhausting.
Settling on my side and facing toward Draco, I close my eyes and relax my body. My chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. “I don’t forgive you,” I whisper. “I wish you hadn’t bitten me.”
He rests his hand on my hip. “You can hate me tomorrow. Sleep.”
And I do.
* * *
Carter
I trace a finger down the Hendrix family line, searching for a Wellington in the long line of names. Grumbling in frustration when I reach yet another dead end, I set the scroll aside and grab the next one. I’ve been through a total of five family scrolls.
Only twenty more remain.
Witches breed like fucking rabbits.
The paper crinkles as I undo the roll and smooth my hand over it. At the top, the origin family name is written in a sprawling script:Cumberbatch.
“Any luck?” Draco plops down across from me, squinting in the dim light.
His presence is unwelcome at this very moment because I’m busy.
“Obviously not,” I say, clucking my tongue when I reach the end of one branch. I move to the next, mouthing the names as I go.
“Someone’s touchy.”
With a hard breath, I smash my finger into the paper and glare at him. “Why aren’t you with Raven?”
He shrugs. “She fell asleep. I figured I’d come help.”
Tossing a scroll at him, I lift an eyebrow. “Then help.”
“Moons, how old are these?” He pinches the scroll between two fingers and wrinkles his nose.
