jumped over fallen branches and trudged through snow. By the time I caught up to him, his hair was savagely long and lush. His face sported that sexy goatee I’d seen before, and his well-muscled arms and chest were covered with a thin layer of hair. He let out a howl.
Like last time, I backed away. My instincts told me to run for my life.
But there was something drawing me to Brandon, to this strange and powerful figure, something more than just his magnetic muscles and chiseled abs. It was his soul.
Even so, I was scared. For him and for me.
He breathed heavily. His chest heaved; his ribs were like those of a lean animal. His stare was hypnotic; I could barely stand in his presence. I wondered if, like Juliette said, he’d carry me off into the woods. Part of me wanted to escape; the other yearned to find out what might happen if I stayed — if I could help him, since this was all my fault.
I debated running, attempting to leave the uncertainty of woods on the hilltop for the safety of my home — a simple place where werewolves were on TV or were the subjects of students’ essays. However, I knew it would be impossible to outrun Brandon. In this lycan form he was powerful, perhaps invincible, and, to me, deadly attractive and soulful.
But Brandon appeared frightened about what he was capable of doing. He began to retreat. I sensed his turmoil. I wanted to stay, but he wanted me to go.
I shook my head and didn’t move. If he had wanted to kill me, he would have tried to already. I was safe with him for now. I extended my hand to him. I tried my best to remain calm, but my shaking revealed my fear.
Brandon’s brow furrowed and his piercing fangs were shining. His gray gaze bore through me.
I took a deep breath and focused on my task.
“It’s okay,” I said, my voice quavering. “I want to help you.”
“You can’t be near me like this.” His voice was low and seductive.
Brandon was more alone than I’d ever seen him before — more alone than he’d been as a new student walking the halls of a cliquey school, more than a misunderstood outsider quietly eating his lunch in solitude, more than a guy living in a small guesthouse behind his grandparents’ home, with his father a continent away.
I inched forward. Brandon didn’t attack me. He didn’t run away, either.
I took his hand, which was sporting masculine brown hair.
When we touched it was as if I could know his soul. Feelings of love, fear, loneliness, and euphoria raced through me as if we were one. I stared up at him. I was attracted to his spirit as much as to his shirtless body. By touching him, everything I thought I sensed about his feelings from across the hallway, lunchroom, or class I now felt as well, magnified a thousand times.
Then my fingers grazed his palm and the raised scar from his wolf bite. It was bright red, as if the moonlight had branded its radiance into his skin.
I placed his hand to my heart. I wanted to let him know I was here for him, like he’d been there for me.
“A wolf bit you under a full moon,” I said. “I guess the Legend’s Run Werewolf folklore is true. If you hadn’t saved me, then this wouldn’t have happened to you. And then the kiss — it was under a full moon as well. Dr. Meadows warned me…” I was filled with remorse and guilt at being the one who had caused his condition. If I had heeded Dr. Meadows’s warning, Brandon would have been like any other student going to school. Instead, he was a werewolf. A tear leaked and drizzled down my cheek.
“There has to be more to… whatever this is,” he reassured me. “It’s not your fault.”
I adored Brandon’s strength, not only physical but moral.
I reached for his face. Gingerly, I touched his goatee and stubble. He melted into my tender caress as if he’d been yearning for this touch for a lifetime.
He smelled delightfully woodsy, like burning leaves mixed with frosting snow.
He grazed the tips of his fangs along the tips of my fingers. Chills danced from them straight to my pounding heart. I felt completely spellbound, as though by being together — whether in this form or his daylight one — I felt complete. Brandon wasn’t alone, and neither was I.
“Please don’t go,” I said. “Not yet.”
There was one more thing I longed for. I felt a pull to Brandon more than ever before. If only I could get close enough to him to feel his lips against mine. By day Brandon was handsome, and by moonlight he was stunningly gorgeous and irresistible. Whatever coursed through his veins to make him a werewolf also made him unbelievably magnetic.
Brandon perked up as if he had heard something in the distance. Then I, too, heard the cry of a wolf.
Brandon lurched away. He shook his head, his long hair flowing wildly, and held me at bay. I wasn’t ready for our time together to end.
Before I knew it, I was standing in the woods alone.
His woodsy scent still lingered in the air, and my skin still danced from his touch.
But I knew now that it was true. I’d fallen in love with a werewolf.
The following day, I gazed at the empty chair in the back of the classroom.
Now that I was certain Brandon was a werewolf, I knew what I’d be dealing with when the full moon showed its haunting glow. As the moon would appear full for two more evenings, he’d be absent from school for several days, likely spending his nights in the woods. All day long police and animal control cars patrolled the suburbs and school in case the wolves showed up again. The people of Legend’s Run were up in arms about the strange animal behavior.
I was desperate to be with Brandon, but Ivy and Abby had wrangled me into watching Abby’s volleyball game after school.
Abby’s game was delayed and didn’t end until just after dusk. Ivy and Abby were going to join the other girls for a celebratory dinner, but I planned to head to Brandon’s. As I left the gymnasium, I heard faint howling coming from a tree-filled lot near the back of the school. I ignored it and continued on to my car until I saw Brandon’s Jeep parked by the school fence.
Two patrol cars were stationed in the middle of the student lot.
“Brandon?” I called.
I snuck into the edge of the woods without venturing in too far. I’d learned my lesson when I’d gotten lost in the blizzard. I wasn’t about to put my life or anyone else’s in danger.
Lights from the parking lot and gymnasium streamed in through the trees, illuminating a small portion of the woods. A fingerless-gloved hand reached out from the darkness. Brandon, in werewolf form, was leaning against a tree, smiling at me.
Happily, I took his hand and he drew me into him. He grazed his fangs against me. I touched his stubbly face. I ran my fingers through his locks, as he did the same to mine.
“I missed you today,” I said.
“I hunger for you all day and night,” he said as he kissed the nape of my neck.
He gazed at me. His lips were only inches from my own. I was longing inside to finally have them touch in the moonlight.
He pulled my hair off my neck and leaned in. He breathed in as if he was inhaling me. I had dotted myself with perfume and sugary vanilla body lotion. The scent of my hair and body seemed to be intoxicating to Brandon. He tugged at my henley with his fangs and nibbled my shoulder. I was so entranced, enamored by his seductive power. I was only moments from kissing the most romantic werewolf in the world. I remembered Dr. Meadows’s words but I didn’t want to heed her warning. But my skepticism toward Dr. Meadows was what got Brandon into this state in the first place. What was I supposed to do?
“I don’t think I should—” I said, breathless.
“I understand.” Brandon must have sensed my distress.
“But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to—” I vowed.
He pulled away.
“I know someone who can help you — or at least wants to try,” I said.
“Who?” he asked, excited.
