Hands dashed to my right in the blink of an eye. I flinched with an audible gasp triggered by the coldness of the fingers against my skin. It was odd, werewolves were naturally warm-blooded yet whoever caught me was cold.
A chill overwhelmed me along with a growing apprehension in my gut. Who caught me?
“Easy there, love.” A thick hoarse feminine voice coaxed stiffly just as nails dug into my skin, holding on tightly to my right arm.
I let out a harsh cry falling to my knees. Before I could fully process my apparent situation, a frigid wave of pain had sheeted through my flesh with terrible intensity.
“Stand down!“ Abigail snapped over my screaming and grunting.
“Who are you to ask that of me?“ the voice scoffed in a sassy manner.
“Who are you to dare touch an ally of the Houndblood pack,” Abel retorted with a growl.
“Is that what you pack of fiends go by now?“ she asked, unamused.
I was failing to understand anything. The pain burned in a familiar coldness I recognized on winter days
