This Dark Wolf (Soul Bitten Shifter #1) - Everly Frost Page 0,45

it’s not the physical pain that does the most damage. It’s the psychological harm of being made powerless—despite the strength flowing through your body.”

“Then what do I do about it?” I snap, my defenses in full swing.

“Let her out, Tessa.”

“What?”

“Your wolf. Stop constraining her. I sense the power inside you trying to free itself. Let your wolf out the way you must have wanted to let her out when you first experienced your mother’s hatred. When Dawson broke your arm the first time. Until you know your full strength, you won’t understand how to mask your scent.”

“I can’t…” I edge away from Helen, scooting back across the cushion. “I can’t let myself feel that angry.”

“Nothing bad will happen,” Helen says. “I promise.”

I give a sarcastic laugh. “You say that now.”

“Look around you, Tessa. This garden is full of magic and beauty—”

“I’ll destroy it.”

“You won’t. The magic here is stronger than that. The most peaceful things are often more resilient than you can imagine.”

Demonstrating just how destructive I can be, I slam my fist down onto the nearest silver flower, my wolf’s energy crackling through my hand.

The blossom tears apart beneath my blow. “See?”

Helen only smiles. “Take another look, Tessa.”

I lift my hand. Silver dust from the broken flowers coats the back of my fingertips, but I’m shocked when the flower reforms, quietly knitting itself back together. A second and third flower form on the vine on either side of it.

It’s such a beautiful reaction to my violence that it takes my breath away.

Before I can respond, a shadow passes across me, casting me into cold darkness.

Looking up, I find that the space around me has transformed.

It’s early morning and the sunlight should be warm, but my hands are clammy, my bottom lip chewed so badly from nerves, it’s cut and bleeding.

I stand again at the school gate, the brown brick pillars rising on either side of the wrought-iron entrance. My mother stands in front of the gate, her sunset hair glowing like a halo. She should have been my angel, my source of love and kindness.

Peter Nash looms beside her, a giant to me, his wolf skull tattoo making me shudder.

Mom casts a cold glare at me across the distance, her head held at a haughty height. I stop on the path, gripping my backpack, my palms sweating so much that my fingers slip as I try to adjust the straps.

I feel her hatred deep in the core of my soul—a hatred I never expected to be so intense. It stops me in my tracks, rips at my stomach, makes my heart burn.

My older self screams at her in my defense: For fuck’s sake. You’re my mother. I was only six years old.

She strides toward me and I remember… in that moment… my wolf’s energy questing inside me, asking to be released. I could sense every watching eye on me. The other kids. Several teachers in the background. Peter Nash’s cruel smile as he watches his mate descend on me. My mother’s shadow looming over me—so large because I was a tiny girl. Her hand rising…

Not this time.

Not again.

My wolf’s energy bursts out of me, taking shape at my side, but this time, I merge with her, shifting fully.

The world around me turns into cobalt fire and I’m astounded at the paleness of my mother’s power, how insignificant it is compared to Tristan’s, even Cody’s, certainly nothing compared to my father’s.

I take on my wolf’s shape, welcome my wolf’s claws and teeth, snarl with her vocal chords, and leap with her strength.

My mother screams, tries to shift into her wolf form, but I’m faster.

I knock her down.

My claws rake across her chest, and I sink my teeth into her neck. But I don’t rip out her throat, pausing as her blood fills my mouth.

This is an illusion.

I never did this. I have never conquered my fear of remaining unloved and unwanted by everyone but my father.

As I release my screaming mother, my surroundings change again. Her screams become a sigh on the breeze as the garden reappears.

Only my full shift actually happened.

I’m still in wolf form, the silver flowers and vines forming a carpet beneath my paws. Snarling, I lower my head, my wolf’s rage flowing through me as I take a threatening step toward Helen. Her silhouette burns bright cobalt in my vision, her power so intense that it lights the space around us in a myriad of sparkles. Her power is as intense as Tristan’s, threatening to burn