Chapter 18

I watch Blake fight with three of the werecats. He is throwing them off his back while snarling like a furious beast. Brown hair gets ripped away from his back, but the werewolf isn't close to giving up. Admirable. What I find fascinating about Blake is that even if we are outnumbered and in grave danger, he seems to live for the battle.

He inhales the air, probably to clear his head before digging his teeth into the next fool trying to attack him.

I wonder if it's easy fighting as a gigantic wolf?

Entranced, I watch the scene before remembering what I was doing—running for my dear life because flames won't burst to life no matter how loud I call for them.

I'm such a weakling.

Images of Jack licking his devious lips before trying to kiss my naked breast flood my mind every time I try to summon fire. It has made me realize that the memory is blocking me from using my powers.

"What do I do?" I ask myself as I climb up a mossy rock. My li