sticking straight out like an arrow, parallel to the ground, dropped, and he lowered his head, returning the fervent licks before glancing at me. I stayed where I was, unmoving, frozen with terror.
The pair didn’t pay me any more attention, turning and rushing out the open door on all fours, Dillon following Nick’s lead.
It was only after they were gone, as I was struggling up to my feet, that I realized my arm hurt and that I was bleeding.
Panic assailed me. I grabbed the closest chair with both hands, struggling to remain upright as my chest tightened, preventing me from pulling in enough air to fill my lungs.
Blood. My blood. Not Nick’s, not Dillon’s—mine. Dillon had cut me. With his claws.
Oh God.
Bile burned my throat as I stumbled to the counter, turning on the water and thrusting my arm under the stream, rubbing at the shallow cuts even though they now burned like fire. Panting with terror, I grabbed at the tiny bottle of antibacterial soap and dumped most of it on the wounds, scrubbing like it would make a difference.
Oh God.
I could be like them this time next month.
Oh God.
I couldn’t hold it in. I threw up into the sink, crying even as I still frantically scrubbed at the cuts, knowing it wouldn’t do any good. If I was infected, it was too late. Lycanthropy couldn’t be washed out of the blood, no matter how good that soap was at cutting through grease and bacteria. The smallest nick of fangs or claws could carry enough of the virus to spread it to anyone unlucky enough to be attacked.
If it had made its way into my bloodstream, I was beyond fucked.
Chapter 21
It took a long, long time for the helpless tears to taper off. I remained limp and still against the counter, unable to bring myself to pull away from the running tap, though the water had long since ceased swirling in a pinkish streak down the drain.
After a while, it was the cold that brought me around. I was shivering so badly my teeth were chattering. The one lamp in the bedroom had miraculously survived the altercation between Nick and Dillon, illuminating the destruction and the first questing tendrils of night fog creeping in through the open door.
Wrapping a dish towel around the cuts, I slowly pulled away from the counter and trudged to the door. There were no visible signs of either Were pack outside save for a few tracks left behind by Nick and Dillon when they’d rushed off. Staring numbly into the white fog creeping between the trees, I listened for any hint of their whereabouts.
Not a sign.
Shutting the door, I stared around the room, taking in the wreckage in a detached way. The table was beyond repair, as was the dresser. Some clothes had spilled out when the lower drawers splintered. The floorboards were marred with claw marks.
Like the ones on my arm.
I covered my eyes with a hand, purposely holding my breath to keep from hyperventilating. The desire to gasp in air was powerful, but I couldn’t afford to pass out. Not now.
When the worst of the involuntary trembles tapered off, I hobbled across the room on shaky legs, keeping my eyes averted from the furrows in the floor. I snatched a T-shirt from a drawer and tossed it over the marks, hiding them so I wouldn’t have to see them every time I turned around.
Slowly, the rage that had fueled my actions earlier returned. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t agreed to Chaz’s suggestion to come here. If not for him, I wouldn’t have been put in the position to be infected.
Even thinking the thought was enough to make my stomach churn uneasily again. Breath came short and sharp between my clenched teeth as I tore open the drawers and tugged out his things, throwing every last stitch of his clothing on the bed.
Next, I stalked over to the fireplace, gradually regaining my balance as purpose and anger took over. My hands shook from cold and fury as I reached for the matches. It took a few tries before I managed to light one. The tinder caught immediately, flaring up with warmth that matched my rage.
I fed the flames, watching them grow as they consumed every last article of clothing Chaz had left. There wasn’t much after what the Nightstrikers had done to our first cabin. By the time I was done, the only set of clothes he’d have would