My wolf weakly shook our head. We’re too hurt to heal. Have to risk it.
Must find Jaxson, our mate. He can heal us.
Our what?
She didn’t wait to argue with me.
Agony tore through me as the shift began. My back arched and popped,
and I howled as every wound we had taken cried out in agony. My forelegs
lengthened into arms and hands, and my bloodstained fur withdrew into my
skin.
Soon, I was human again, trembling and naked on my hands and knees. I
had deep knife wounds in my gut and thigh and shoulder, but I still had my
soul.
The world spun, and I hauled myself to my feet with a root and looked at
the body of the sorcerer. Kahanov…or Dragan. Both. The
y had died as they
had lived—stained with blood.
“Thank you,” I whispered to my wolf as hope and sorrow overwhelmed
me.
She whimpered. Find Jaxson. Nothing else matters.
For a second, doubt chilled my skin, but I shoved it away. Jaxson was still
alive. He had to be. I knew it somehow in my soul.
The room rumbled, and dirt trickled from the ceiling. The place looked
like it was going to cave in.
I looked up at the dense cluster of roots at the top of the chamber—the
way I’d fallen in. “How the hell do I get out of here?”
You’re the monkey—climb, my wolf said weakly. Joy raced through my
heart. She still had a little strength for snark.
“Here goes nothing.” I grabbed hold of the roots, then began to haul
myself up.
I would never have been able to make the ascent without my claws and
new werewolf strength. Even so, I was gravely wounded, and it took the last