Annabel
PAIN RIPS THROUGH ME-A burning, gauging pain.
He bit me.
I don't believe it, but Charlie flies back and lands onto his ass on the floor, blood dripping from oversized canines.
And his eyes.
Ice. Blue.
Just like the wolf in the stairwell. Like the wolf at the cabin.
Cold gooseflesh runs across my arms. No. It can't be.
Werewolves don't exist.
But there's no other explanation. Charlie is a freaking werewolf!
And he bit me-the man I would've sworn this morning would protect me from anything.
"Get back!" I shout even though he's already retreated. Hands shaking, I grab the Glock from my purse and cock it. Blood soaks my t-shirt around my right shoulder.
Flashes of what I've already seen run through my mind. Charlie's need to go out alone for night runs. The wolf tearing at the door of the cabin. The wolf appearing in the stairwell while Charlie went off comms. It all fits.
I would've sworn nothing ruffles Charlie Dune, but right now, horror fills his eyes. He doesn't look ready to attack. He seems afraid-of what he's done.
"Shoot me," he whispers.
My two hands shake as I aim the gun between his eyes. My breath comes fast and shaky.
"Do it," he says, louder.
I try to keep a tough face on, but I feel one side of it crumple. I'm not a warrior like my dad or Charlie. I couldn't shoot the wolf between the eyes when it tried to get to me at the cabin. There's no way I can do it now when he's in human form and afraid. But I know he's not afraid of me. He's afraid for me. And that's the reason I keep the gun pointed.
"How long?" I shout. "How long have you been a wolf?"
"A month, I guess," he mutters.
"You guess?" My voice rises in pitch. "What the fuck, Charlie?"
"I don't know-maybe all my life. My dad was one. But I only started changing a month ago. After Honduras. I would've told you if I could've figured out how to make it sound believable in any way."
"So, am I a werewolf now, too?" I can't keep the wobble out of my voice.
Charlie wipes the blood from his lips. Remorse shows on every line of his face. "I don't know." His words are barely audible. "But you should put me down. Before I do it again."
I swallow. "I already shot you once," I rasp. "At the cabin."
He points to the center of his forehead. "Put it here, Annabel."
I should. Charlie Dune is out of control. He hurt me. He could hurt someone else. But killing isn't in my wheelhouse.
"Do it!" he roars.
I jerk when he shouts, but I still can't fire. A tear rolls down my cheek.
"Annabel, I'm a danger to you. I don't know what else I might do. You need to shoot me. I'd rather you did it than someone else. Please."
My finger tightens on the trigger.
But pulling it is an impossibility. Even when he's yelling at me to do it.
My lips tremble. "Get up." I gesture with the gun.
"Shoot me," he whispers again.
"Get up!" I put some authority in my command.
Charlie scrambles to his feet and cleans up-taking off the condom, tucking his cock away in his jeans.
"Get out." I point to the door with the gun.
"Annabel, I'll just come back. I'll find a way in. You're like a drug to me." He's pleading with me. He wants me to put him down.
I can't.
"Get. Out."
Charlie walks to the door, opens it and steps through. "Lock this door, sweetheart," he mutters as he shuts it tight.
CHARLIE
OH LORD, what have I done to Annabel? I wish to God she would've shot me.
I don't experience fear. I learned to shunt that into power long, long ago. But I'm more afraid for Annabel than I've ever been.
I hurt her.
I hurt my beloved.
Annabel.
My mind replays what just happened. How deep the wounds were where they were located. How much blood left her.
No, the wounds aren't fatal. If they don't get infected, she'll heal up, even without immediate medical intervention.
I stand on the porch and stare up at the moon.
What have I done?
The strange thing is, I have no urge to shift and run anymore. I'm calmer than I've been any night this week. More focused.
I climb into the truck we stole to get here. I'll spend the night here, watching over her. In the morning, I'll make myself invisible and follow her out, wherever she goes. I can't leave her unprotected. Not until this mission is over.
But I also can't put myself in the same room with her, either.
I'm a terrible danger to her.
Annabel
THE SHOCK of betrayal guts me even though I'm starting to believe Charlie couldn't control himself. I don't think he meant to hurt me.
I run for the bathroom and pull off my t-shirt to inspect the wounds. There are four puncture wounds, a half-inch deep.
Could've been worse. No major arteries. Not too much blood loss. I definitely feel woozy though.
I turn and heave into the toilet. The room spins. Oh God. Am I turning into a werewolf?
Will I start biting people at the full moon, too?
I stagger to the bedroom and fall down on the bed. My eyelids are heavy-too heavy to keep open. It's like I've had a few too many drinks and I'm passing out still liquored up.
Yep, passing out…
I WAKE TO A CREAKING FLOORBOARD.
Charlie?
Did he come back in? Of course, I locked the door, but Charlie Dune could get past any lock if he wanted to. I didn't think he would though.
And yet, relief is not a strong enough word for how I feel at the idea he's come back. It's more like celebration. Like everything was off in the world, and now it's right again.
The doorknob to the bedroom turns slowly, and the hair stands up on my head.
It's not Charlie.