The White Wolf
Long black hair cascaded down her back, grown almost past her waist.
“Ghost.” A gravelly voice replaced her usual musical one. “How am I here?”
“You were lost. We found each other again.”
“How long was I lost?”
“Four months.”
“Oh, Ghost. I’m sorry.”
“You’re home now.” When the last of the conditioner rinsed out, I turned off the water and escorted her out. Dry and clean, we dressed, and I carried her downstairs.
“Daddy, I’m sorry. Ghost said I was lost.”
“Your witch severed the mating bonds, and your wolf took over,” Doc added.