Blue Crescent Moon
His crimson gaze darkened with quiet awe.
“There it is,” he murmured. “Your new form.”
Lilith’s head swam. Her heart hammered against her ribs. The hunger was deafening now—a constant roar, pressing against her skull, urging her to tear, to devour, to feed—
She could smell Nathan’s blood beneath his skin. Hear the steady thrum of his pulse.
Her claws twitched. “Breathe,” Nathan commanded, stepping closer. “Control it.”
Lilith squeezed her eyes shut. She pictured the books, the warnings—the twisted legends of Wendigos hunting in the snow, devouring the innocent. She was becoming one of them.
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