Page 25 of Enspelled

“I’m guessing the blonde woman patting her mouth with a napkin back there has some relation to Diana Calla?” I ask the wolf cowering on the floor of the passenger seat.

A soft whine.

I risk taking my eyes from the road to dart a glance at Briar, who is practically bleeding terror through her pores. But I’m not scenting any blood or pain from her. Just fear. So whatever the witch said must have been bad.

And I can’t even ask her what it was, because who knows how long she’s going to be a wolf this time?

I sigh. Now, it’s looking like the responses of a scared wolf have overtaken Briar’s power that has smashed me into trees more times than I could count.

But then I remember the door exploding and a wolf leaping out. So her power is still there… somewhere.

With nowhere to go—and even if there was, getting Briar to leave the truck would involve a fight I’m not eager to get into—I decide to spend the next few minutes driving around until the worst of Briar’s terror has eased.

I head for the forest road that winds around town as the rain continues to fall, lashing at the windshield with increasing force. I’m changing gears when a grinding noise makes me wince.

The transmission clutch. Fuck.

If we survive the next twenty-four hours, I have to do something about that.

A low growl has me angling my head to the passenger seat.

Briar peers up at me from the floor, the scent of her fear still clinging to her fur. “Maybe I should get you to fix it,” I mutter.

Her eyes brighten.

“That doesn’t mean I trust you won’t blow it up,” I say, only being half-serious.

The growl of a pissed-off pup will never fail to put a smile on my face. Not the sound, but all the memories it conjures of pack. Of home. Of the past.

Briar’s growl does just that.

Until small, sharp teeth nip my arm.

“Hey!” I snarl, jerking my arm out of the way, and nearly wind up rear-ending a tree. “Stop that.”

She follows the bite with another and then retreats before I can knock her away.

I slow the truck down and turn to her with a glare. A little more of the fear clinging to her has faded as she sits in the passenger seat, a pleased look on her face.

“You’re going to be human again soon,” I warn her, “and then we’ll see who is biting who.”

She narrows those incredible blue eyes at me and snaps her teeth as if promising me another bite if I don’t stop talking.

Shaking my head, I turn away so she can’t see how close I am to smiling at her brave display.

A run with her would be fun. She’d probably spend more time tripping over squirrels and running into trees, but it would be fun.

The thought surprises me, because the only time I’ve run as a wolf has been when I’ve needed to chase a shifter that needed to be put down.

Fun never entered the equation.

But before that… when my pack was still alive, every run was an adventure.

Has it really been ten years since that happened?

Briar’s next growl is a call for attention, so I swing my head to face her.

She has her nose smashed against her window.

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