Chapter 9

Sunny's POV

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't do anything except stand there like an idiot, staring at Rainey in that pale pink bra.

My hands were shaking. Actually shaking. I could feel the familiar burn under my skin, the warning signs that meant I was losing control. The wolf wanted out, and I couldn't let that happen.

Not here. Not now. Not with her standing half-naked in my living room, looking at me with those huge eyes full of desperation and something else I didn't want to name.

I grabbed the first thing I could reach – my hoodie from the back of a chair – and threw it at her hard enough that she had to catch it against her chest.

"That's what you think is gonna work on me? Supposed to be impressive?" I said, my voice coming out rougher than I intended. I turned my back to her, running a hand through my hair and trying to get my shit together. "You're embarrassing yourself."

The scent of her skin, rain-clean and warm, hit my enhanced senses like a physical blow. Mixed with it was that forest-and-mint smell from my clothes, and something about that combination made my stomach flip.

I heard the soft rustle of fabric behind me and risked a glance over my shoulder. She was pulling the hoodie over her head, the oversized fabric swallowing her small frame. Her face was burning red, but she was still looking at me with that stubborn tilt to her chin.

"There," she said quietly, smoothing down the hem. "Better?"

I noticed the way my clothes hung on her, how the sleeves covered her hands completely. My heightened senses picked up her scent even stronger now, mingled with mine on the fabric, and something possessive and dangerous stirred in my chest.

"Much," I muttered, though my throat felt tight.

Damn. I got hard.

I glanced down at myself, grateful the sweatpants hid most of my reaction to this whole fucked-up situation. I needed a distraction before I did something really stupid.

I spotted my vape on the coffee table and grabbed it, not bothering to turn it on. Just having something in my mouth helped ground me, gave me something to focus on besides the way Rainey's hair spilled over the shoulders of my hoodie.

"Get dressed properly," I said around the unlit device. "You're making it look like I'm taking advantage of you or some shit."

Her face fell slightly, and I realized she was interpreting my disgust as rejection of her specifically, not just the situation. Good. That was safer for both of us.

She pulled her damp shirt back on under the hoodie, her movements quick and embarrassed. When she was done, she just stood there in my oversized clothes looking lost.

The silence stretched between us until I couldn't take it anymore. I bent down and grabbed the cleaning bucket she'd left by the bathroom door, my enhanced strength making the heavy container feel like nothing.

"I'm putting this shit away," I announced, mostly to give myself something to do that didn't involve looking at her. "And then you're leaving."

I carried the bucket toward the bathroom, but stopped when I heard her voice behind me, small and uncertain.

"I cleaned everything really carefully," she said. "If there's anything I missed, or if you want me to do something differently next time, just tell me. I can do better."

Next time? There wasn't going to be a next time. I was already having trouble keeping the wolf contained with her in my space for a few hours. Any longer and I'd probably shift right in front of her.

I didn't answer, just continued toward the bathroom. But as I set the bucket down by the sink, that familiar nausea hit me like a brick wall. My stomach cramped, and I had to grip the edge of the vanity to stay upright.

Fuck. Not now.

Ever since the change started, regular food had been making me sick. Everything tasted wrong, looked wrong, smelled wrong. I'd been living off protein bars and the occasional piece of raw fish when I could stomach it. My doctor back in California had diagnosed it as stress-induced anorexia, but I knew better. This was just another lovely side effect of becoming something that wasn't entirely human.

I pressed my free hand against my chest, trying to slow my breathing. The cramping was getting worse, and I could feel cold sweat breaking out on my forehead.

"You okay?" Rainey's voice came from right behind me.

I straightened up fast, probably too fast. "None of your business! I told you to leave, not hang around being annoying."

But she was already moving closer, those worried eyes scanning my face. "Are you hurt?"

I almost laughed. If she only knew what I was actually capable of lifting. "Are you blind? I'm holding my chest, not my back! You think a cleaning bucket is gonna take me out?"

She immediately looked down. "I'm sorry. I just thought—"

"You thought wrong," I cut her off, but the fight was going out of me as another wave of nausea hit. Her apologies always came so fast, like she was used to being wrong about everything. It was starting to piss me off in a completely different way.

"Sorry," she said again, quieter this time.

"Jesus, stop apologizing for breathing," I muttered, but I was too busy fighting my rebelling stomach to put much heat behind it.

She stepped closer, close enough that I could smell that rain-and-soap scent again. "Let me help you to the couch. You look really pale."

Before I could protest, she was reaching for my arm. Her small hand wrapped around my wrist, and the contact sent an unexpected jolt through my system. Her fingers were soft and warm, even with the bandaging on her injured hand.

I looked down at where she was touching me, noting how one hand was still red and swollen from the cleaning chemicals while the other was pale and delicate. She wasn't looking at me, just concentrating on being gentle, her dark lashes casting shadows on her cheeks.

She looked so fucking fragile. Like I could break her just by breathing too hard.

"Fine," I heard myself saying. "You get one chance to make yourself useful."