THE CURSE OF LUST
She drove Christopher into the earth again and again, trying to break him fast.
I tried to move. Rowan caught me: “He has to do this alone,” he growled. “If you interfere, they'll never stop.”
“They're killing him,” I hissed, struggling. Fear ripped through me, sharp and poisonous. I had watched lovers die before. Children. Entire covens. I would not watch him.
My wolf clawed at the inside of my skin, begging to be unleashed. Christopher cried out, not in pain, but in fury. His wolf surged half-formed, teeth elongating, spine arching, something new and terrible burning through him. Still they pressed him down.