His whole body goes rigid against mine when I say it, and for a second I think he’s going to pull away – every muscle in his body tenses like he’s fighting some internal tug-of-war between the thing pinning me to this wall and the part of him that’s still human enough to know this is the moment where a normal girl would run.“You don’t know what I am.” His voice is wrecked, barely recognizable, scraped raw by whatever is happening inside his chest, and his clawed hands are still buried in the plaster on either side of my head and his golden eyes are searching my face for the fear he can probably smell on me.“Then tell me.”He does.He tells me while his body is pressed against mine and his fangs are an inch from my throat and his clawed fingers are slowly, carefully uncurling from the wall to rest on my shoulders instead, and the weight of them is heavier than his hands should be because his hands aren’t entirely his hands right now.He tells me he’s a werewolf. Born, not bitten – wh
Última atualização : 2026-05-13
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