Page 64 of The Biting Bargain

The thought feels like a lead weight on my chest. And my wolf, who has been lurking under the surface of my being all day, gaining more and more strength, growls in my mind.

"Free?" Polly makes a move to get up, but I give one quick shake of my head and she sinks back.

"It's a full moon night," I say, hating it as understanding sinks into her round face. Of course she knows what that means. She must know. I am cursed. Since she reactivated my curse, I will shift when the moon is full. And even if I weren't sullied like this, my little dove isn't made to put up with someone like me.

She deserves better. So much better.

"You stay here," I say gruffly. "I’ll see you in two days."

"Wait…" she starts, but I close the door between us with a bang before her protest can reach me.

For a long moment I stare at the grains in the dark palisander wood in front of my eyes and slowly let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

No more of this sentimental crap. Things are the way they are.

No way around it.

I stomp down the feeling, whatever the hell it is, and leave my study through the other door. Calling Aidan on my way down the long, empty hallway.

"Is it time, sir?"

"Correct," I say. "Get everything ready, please."

"Very well, sir."

I end the call, pocket my phone and walk.

ChapterThirty

Polly

It'spast midnight when I rise from the sofa with a groan. Even if my sleep rhythm wasn't completely fucked up by my job as a noble drone, I wouldn't get a wink of sleep tonight.

Something about Vincent leaving me alone feels like an itchy rash on my soul.

I've spent the last seven hours finishing watching „Three Cousins and a Wife,” fiddling on my phone, texting back and forth with Marigold (who keeps asking me how it's going, wink-wink, nudge-nudge) doing yoga, biting my nails, watching a ton of YouTube videos about home improvement and latte art, gobbling down three entire rolls of gimbap — and during all of this fighting the urge to climb up the walls.

My eyes keep wandering to the door behind which Vincent disappeared earlier tonight.

And somewhere behind the tinted windows, behind the black velvet curtains, the full moon is in the sky.

Whatever connection Vincent and I have, I can feel it, deep inside, like a black hole in my soul. Something seems to be missing, like an itch on my back that I can't reach. And it gets harder to ignore with every second that passes.

Again I stare at the door, biting the knuckle of my index finger. Like I'm just waiting for him to walk right back in.

Where did he go? What's he doing? How is he feeling? Has he shifted yet? Or did Aidan put him into a science fiction cryo sleep to spare him? Unlikely. More likely he's holed up somewhere to sit the entire thing out.

Another thought hits me that has cold dread spread in my chest.

Does it hurt to shift?

I jump to my feet and start pacing while googling "pain while shifting," which doesn't help to calm me down at all.

Now that I think about it, of course, obviously, it's an extremely painful process when your bones suddenly morph, an entire winter coat of fur shoots out of your skin within seconds, and every damn cell in your body deforms and rearranges itself. According to the website I'm on, victims of werewolf bites in particular have a hard time adjusting.

I swallow and look back at the door.

The urge to fill the painful void inside me again, and see him, grows stronger than my fear.

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