his snout through the bars, deepening his snarl. It vibrated her right into her vocal cords. The wolf scuffed at the floor, hissing like a snake, but breathing like a bull. He raised his paw and slammed it against the hardwood.

She lost her balance and fell over, hitting her ass on the coffee table. The wood legs snapped, and she dropped to the ground.

Holding up her hands, she glanced around for something she could use to ease the tension and help her communicate with the beast. “I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to talk to you. I have some questions.” One being, did you kill Ralph? And why?

Actually, she should be asking herself why she believed the wolf was innocent and why she’d go to any length to save it.

The picture of the wolf! That should help create a more hospitable environment, especially since it showed him wandering in the field between the barn and the main house.

She shot to her feet, ignoring the ache in her back, and raced to the table. She found the picture and gasped. She could now see herself clearly in the painting. Her white wolf form standing proudly next to the beast.

He had something to do with the next phase, whatever that was, and she’d do whatever it took to make sure it happened. All of her nieces and nephews, both born and unborn, deserved to live the full life their ancestors went to extreme lengths to create.

The floor shook as if a herd of elephants were barreling down the mountain, ready to crush the cabin into kindling. Bracing herself against the sofa, she held up the image. “That’s you.” She pointed to the wolf. “This is me.” She tapped the picture and then touched the center of her chest. “I’m a werewolf. Do you understand that?”

The wolf tilted his head with his paw raised in the air. He glanced between her and the kitchen. Lifting his head, he howled so loudly she dropped to her knees, covering her ears.

“Please. I know you’re scared and probably angry, but—”

A threatening growl cut her words off.

The wolf raised both front paws and pounded on the floor. Books fell from the shelves. Pictures dropped from the wall.

And the oven door flopped open.

“Shit.” The last thing she needed was a pissed-off wolf ready to tear her to shreds and an obnoxious fairy burning her with dust. Crawling toward the kitchen, she reached for the vase.

Before she had a chance to snag it, her feet lifted from the ground. She glanced over her shoulder. “Oh…my…God.”

The wolf had the back of her shirt in his teeth. He carried her as if she were his cub. He could have ripped through her body with one bite and shake of his head. Instead, he gently set her down on the sofa, his snout rubbing against her exposed skin.

She stood, hoping taking a stand would let him know she wouldn’t be pushed around, but that she was also not a threat.

He gave her a nudge in the gut with his nose.

Blinking, she tried to tear her gaze from his dark pools of…of… she leaned a little closer and rubbed her own eyes, but the steady stream of blue, red, orange, and yellow fairy dust flowed from the vase into the wolf’s eyes, filling them with life.

“What’s going on?” she whispered, mesmerized by the colors swirling around his body. His dark, dirty coat turned thick and shiny, as if he’d not only had a bath, but had been groomed.

The vase rolled across the floor. He stopped it with his paw. His nails penetrated the glass. It didn’t shatter, but he poked a nice size hole in it.

She braced herself for the wrath of Norse. He’d yet to really hurt her, and she suspected he didn’t have that kind of power, but she still didn’t like the way he sizzled her skin.

The wolf opened his mouth wide.

He could swallow half her body in one bite.

She scurried back as far as she could, taking in deep breaths. Panicking would not help save her or buy her more time. She needed to reach the wolf. Make him understand her intention was not to put him in harm’s way, even if her brothers wanted him six feet under. “I’m not here to hurt you. I just need to know who you are and what you’re doing here,” she pleaded with the beast.

The dust gathered inside his jaw, streaming from the vase, circling around his body, until it all disappeared.

Maybe Norse was protecting her, even though he didn’t like her much, but she had helped stop Apep, who only wanted to kill Norse and destroy the prophecy. And that right there was why she felt such a strong desire to figure out how Norse and this wolf really fit into the future of the Wolfairies.

Maybe then she could go back to her life in New York City.

The wolf snapped his mouth shut only inches from her face, keeping all the fairy dust tucked between his razor-sharp teeth.

Poor Norse.

So, this is what death looked like.

The wolf swallowed.

And then belched.

Gross.

“Am I next on the menu?” She wouldn’t go down without a fight. “Last chance to talk. Otherwise, I’m shifting, and trust me, I’m a formidable werewolf.” She stood as tall as her brother Drew, but not as big as her other two brothers, but she suspected she’d only come to this beast’s shoulder, if she was lucky.

The wolf raised his brows, pushing his ears back.

If she wasn’t mistaken, she heard a male voice laughing.

Probably Norse. She wondered how long he could survive inside the digestive tract of a monster.

“I’m not a monster.” The wolf narrowed his glare and inched so close, his hot breath created perspiration on her forehead. “And Norse likes it here.”

“So, now you want to talk.” Her heart squeezed, slowing her pulse. Fear left with an exhale, and it was replaced with a sense of awe. Slowly, she lifted her hand for him to smell.

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