Near the wall, Roman had his hand on Asher’s shoulder, and they both looked bewildered. Eyes too bright though, silver and gold. They weren’t howling either.
Her body buckled, and the howl rose again. Her howl.
And then there was the sound of gunfire. And then there was pain.
Blaire fell off the table, or more like…she didn’t fit on the table anymore. Not as she had. The clatter of bowls and the shattering of glass was deafening. She could hear everything as she scrambled against the floor, trying to ease the hurt that rippled through her body and blazed down every nerve ending.
Odine was still chanting, louder now, words that made no sense and all ran together.
“What’s happening to her?” Roman asked. Too loud, too loud. His voice bounced around her skull, splitting it.
Words were impossible now, but suddenly, the pain stopped. It just disappeared like fog in the sunshine. She couldn’t move. She was frozen, and her body didn’t make sense. Nothing felt like it was where it was supposed to be. Something moved behind her, and she yelped a strange noise and scrambled away from it. More movement, and she went mad, clawing her way in a clumsy circle to defend herself. Roman had his cell phone up taking pictures, and Gentry was trying to calm her, hands out as he approached.
Don’t! She snapped her teeth at him, and he winced away. Asher wore a dark smile as he leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
Odine wasn’t chanting anymore. She sagged heavily into a chair as if she were utterly exhausted. She looked like she’d aged a decade, and there was more gray in her hair now. “Let her out before she finds her legs and destroys my house.” Her voice cracked with age. “And for God sakes, boys, don’t let her kill anyone.”
“I thought werewolves didn’t come in white,” Roman said as Gentry threw the door to the cabin open.
Werewolf? White? Baffled, Blaire looked down at the floor, and to her horror, there were two snow-white wolf legs with black claws that had raked deep scratches into the wooden floorboards under her.
There was movement behind her again, scaring her into scrabbling forward.
“Look it,” Roman crowed. “She’s afraid of her own tail.”
“Shut the fuck up, man,” Gentry said, shoving his brother into the wall. “She doesn’t know what’s happening.”
“I thought she would look like a zombie or something,” Asher murmured. “Red eyes maybe.”
Odine snorted tiredly. “Do you look like a zombie wolf? Do you have red eyes? I made you three the same way. Now get out. I need rest.”
Asher and Roman strode out the door, but Gentry knelt in front of Blaire. He looked so striking with the soft winter light filtering through the open door behind him. He didn’t try to touch her with his hands, but his eyes felt like they were caressing her. So green. She could see little gold flecks in them, could see each movement of his pupil as he focused on her. He looked so relieved. No, he felt relieved. She could sense it through some invisible link that hung in the air between them.
Mine.
A slow smile stretched behind Gentry’s beard. And in a reverent whisper, he said, “You’re so beautiful, Trouble.”
She wanted to smile, but didn’t know how in this body. Excitement built up in her body as she realized what was happening.
It had worked. Whatever Odine had done had worked.
She was alive, and because of that, Gentry—her Gentry—was alive.
He felt bigger in this body. Dominant. Intimidating even though his eyes were soft. She needed to touch him, though, so she gave into her new instincts and pushed herself forward on her belly, then rolled over on her side when she reached him, nudging her nose under his hand.
He chuckled and ran his fingertips up her muzzle. Felt so freaking good. A needy whine left her lips, and there was more movement behind her. Wagging tail, nothing to be afraid of this time.
“You want to run?” he asked through a wicked grin. He looked completely exhausted, and she should let him rest, but the excitement in her body was still there, so yes! She needed to run. That was a great suggestion. Her mate was a genius.
She tried to work her body, and shocker, she was clumsy as hell, but she got the hang of it a little by the time she reached the open door. Gentry strode behind her, pulling off his shirt. Sexy mate. Blaire fell all the way down the stairs with a yelp. Gentry laughed.
On the edge of the woods were two wolves—one black as tar with white eyes, and one gray and brown with eyes the color of melted gold. Pack. Strikers. She was one of them now. They thought they were going to leave Gentry, leave her, but she wouldn’t let them. She was going to make them jump the right side of the fence.