Page 95 of Haze

“I don’t...” I start to say, but I shake my head.

There’s no harm in trying. He’ll see that I’m actually broken, and maybe he’ll be gone by Friday. No one will want to be mates with a wolf he can’t shift with. Or with whatever’s left inside me.

I push myself forward, and Finn’s hand finds my low back. “When was the last time you shifted?”

“Two weeks before the wedding.” I wait for the judgment and scolding.

“Okay,” Finn answers. There’s no judgment. He doesn’t even comment on it. His hand falls away from me. “I’m here if you want the command. You set the pace.”

Now is not the time to stall out, I grumble at the lava inside.

I try hard to bring it forward. Finn’s dominating presence becomes stronger behind me. He steps into my space, and as he does, the lava erupts through me.

Shifting’s never been easy, but this one comes more quickly. It’s fluid. Four feet strike the grass, and we look back toward Finn.

As suspected, a massive black and gray wolf is in his place.

The beast that’s been building inside me isn’t the wolf I’ve come to know. We charge Finn, and I can’t hold it back.

I’ve never fought another wolf before. I’ve never been aggressive. But this is a force I can’t stop.

Our mouth is full of fur. Then a snarl and teeth ripping, pushing hard against him.

Chapter 30

Finn

Lena’s gone. I could tell the moment her wolf’s teeth made contact with my skin. Something’s not right. Gently we dislodge her with a push of our shoulder, but the snarly little wolf charges again.

Lowering our snout, we push under her chest, rolling her to her back. Claws try to find purchase in our dense fur. Snarling, we try to discourage the feral behavior, but it isn’t swayed. She snaps and rolls. Using her back feet, she attacks again, delivering a blow to our ribs.

Circling, we push her again, swiftly pressing our paw against her to put her back on the ground. Opening our jaws, we put them around her neck. Feet kick and squirm at our feet. Snarls keep growing, and we squeeze tighter around her throat.

It’s clear this wolf hasn’t ever been in a fight. Her body stills, but when our teeth come off her skin, she rolls away and circles around.

Lowering our head, we bare our teeth. Hackles rising, she appears bigger. Her ears pin back, and she snaps her jaws at us with a fake lunge forward, taunting us.

Keeping our weight backward, my wolf and I agree to let her attack us again. Pinning our ears back, we snap our jaws and curl our lips in a snarl.

The ball of light-gray-and-cream fur snaps again before launching at us with feet high in the air, trying to get a grip from above. Feet connect with our shoulders, and we collapse low before rolling her off our back and tumbling with her, easily putting our jaws around her neck again.

Fur fills our mouth, and we squeeze our jaws hard across her neck. Feet claw hard against us, and we feel the pain of her nails finally making contact with our skin. Lying down, we force her onto her side, restricting her legs with our weight.

Patience isn’t easy. We don’t want to hurt her. Focusing on her, we think about how much we want and love her. We try to reach her through the bond. Something, anything, please get through to her.

She won’t submit. Even with the position we’ve put her in, her thrashing doesn’t end. We try squeezing our jaws on her neck a little tighter. Her fur and loose skin pull against our teeth.

We have to hurt her, my wolf urges. Our mate needs us to put her in her place.

It’s killing me. I can’t. Not like this. Not... She was submissive.

She IS submissive, my wolf argues. She’s just confused.

Reluctance isn’t helping. Remorse floods my brain before we even make a move. Warily, I apply the minuscule amount of extra pressure needed to break her skin.

Her feet connect again with our soft underbelly.

Sweet thick copper hits our tongue, but she doesn’t yield.

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