Her Wolf in the Wild by Rien Gray

Author:Rien Gray [Gray, Rien]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Carina Press
Published: 2021-07-26T20:32:12+00:00

Chapter Ten

Micah

“I’ll do it,” Christiana says, holding out her hand. “You probably shouldn’t be touching that stuff any more than you have to, right?”

Probably not. I give her the dented tin and strip off my vest, shirt following right after. The last thing I need is silver sticking to my clothes, rubbing in with constant friction. Christiana’s eyes flicker up and down my body before her face heats up.

“Super bad timing.” She clears her throat. “Turn around?”

I do, dropping down to my knees so she can reach the back of my neck. My entire body is stiff as steel, blood surging and trying to take a new shape, but I force my eyes closed, breathing as deep as I can.

Not yet. Not yet.

My wolf claws and thrashes in my head as Christiana smears the silver paste across my back. It’s brutally cold, like a blade made out of ice cutting down to the nerve. Nausea floods my throat, but I do everything I can to swallow back the bile, pins and needles exploding across my body wherever the silver touches. Every pass of her fingers goads the beast again, rage incoherent as it’s bottled farther and farther down.

I’m going to be sick.

The vomit has more red in it than I’d like, but a little blood is better than the alternative. By the time I finish heaving, Christiana is frantically wiping her hands off on her shirt, then squeezes a bottle of water over them just to be sure, scrubbing off every little silver fleck. She passes it to me next, letting me wash out my mouth and guzzle the rest.

“Are you okay?” she whispers. “You look...even more pale than you usually do.”

Okay isn’t the word I’d use. My stomach is churning and everything hurts, but the wolf is distant, like someone else’s beast is calling for me instead. Vera’s balm—or whatever it should be called—is working.

“I’m not going to change.” My voice is a rasp, rough from acid. “We should stay by Connor’s scanner.”

Christiana sits down next to me, worry pulling her shoulders tight. Her heartbeat is vacillating wildly, but she welcomes my hand when I offer it, clutching at my fingers. Then she lets go, visibly nervous.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she mumbles.

“Christiana, take my hand.” I offer it again. “Take it and grip as hard as you can, with all the strength you have. I’ll tell you when it hurts.”

She looks skeptical, but does as I ask. Her entire arm tenses with the effort, and I hold her eyes the entire time until she realizes what’s happening.

“That doesn’t do anything, huh?” Christiana lets out a soft laugh. Her shoulders relax, just a touch. “Is Talisa sure you’re not immortal?”

“Silver can kill us if it’s applied to an otherwise lethal wound.” Right now it’s burning like napalm, but contact alone isn’t a killer. “Beyond that, it takes a lot more.”

“Like what?” she asks. “Getting hit by a truck?”

“The truck would lose.” A lot of supposed freak accidents that people survive untouched have something to do with us.

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