I hadn’t taken more than a couple of steps before his hand gripped my arm again. He spun me around until my back slammed against a tree.
“Stop running from me. Please,” he said.
“Let me go.” My voice rumbled with the demand.
“No.”
“I’m not going back.”
His eyes turned the color of melted gold. “Why not?”
“Is Imogene okay?”
He took a deep breath and his eyes faded back to their normal amber. “She’ll be fine. Because you’re a Were, the wound will heal slowly. Not as slow as if she were human. But slow enough that she’ll hate you.”
“Not like we were destined to be bosom buddies anyway.”
“I guess not.” He set his knuckle under my chin, guiding my gaze. “What happened back there?”
ulled me inside. “Where’s your other flip-flop?”
My left foot was cut up and bloody from running. Somewhere along the way, I’d lost one. “I don’t know.”
“Okay. Wait right here. I’ll get the first aid kit.”
I dropped the flip-flop by the door and went into the kitchen. I grabbed milk out of the fridge and the Oreos from on top of the freezer. I’d just burned some major calories and couldn’t let my wolf get antsy from hunger while I was with Mom. I shoved two Oreos in my mouth and chewed quickly.
God. How had the day gone so wrong? I wasn’t a violent person. I didn’t attack people.
I hoped they weren’t kidding when they said we healed fast, but since I was kind of a werewolf—I wasn’t sure if she’d be okay. I didn’t like Imogene, but I hadn’t meant to hurt her.
Mom dug through drawers upstairs, and then water turned on, drowning out all the other sounds. She was a clean freak, probably washing her hands. I hopped up onto the kitchen counter to wait.
She came back carrying the first aid bin and a clean shirt of mine. We sat quietly as she cleaned my foot. I winced as she pulled out some gravel and poured peroxide over it. It bubbled white as it killed germs. I pulled on the fresh shirt as she worked.
She ripped open a bandage and then put it down. “Umm. The cuts have all healed.”
I grabbed my foot. She was right. Once the bits of gravel were gone, my feet healed completely. Not even a scar marred them. “Thanks, Mom.”
She moved away from me to throw away the dirty cotton balls. “You want to talk about what happened?”
“I hurt someone.” Tears streaked down my face. “I’m completely lost, Mom. I don’t know what to do.”
“Tessa—”
“Dastien…he…I can’t…And I can’t control my feelings. One minute, I’m fine. The next I’m nearly ripping some girl’s head off.” I covered my face with my hands.
“Tessa!”
“I’m not joking. I could have killed Imogene. I’m a monster.”
“Teresa Elizabeth McCaide.” She squeezed my knee. “I don’t care what happened. You’re no monster.”
I wanted to believe her. I wiped my hands down my face. “You don’t know that. Not anymore.”
“I do too. I’m the one who carried you for nine months. Who has taken care of you for the past seventeen—almost eighteen—years. I know my daughter. I don’t care what happened—you’re no monster. It makes me so mad that you’d think that. After all you’ve been through. You’re still the same girl.”
She was muttering under her breath about having a chat with Mr. Dawson when the doorbell rang.