Made in Moonlight

Thirteen

Thomas and Leyla don't return until the next day.

I spend all night imagining up scenarios until I finally fall asleep, my stomach knotted with worry.

I'm already two hours into my daily training when I spot them through the tree line.

"It's them!" I exclaim, scrambling to my feet in the middle of the grass field in front of the cabin. Blake's eyes snap up and we watch as Leyla and Thomas approach in their wolf form.

"Well?" Blake says.

Leyla yips, lifting her head as I assume she speaks to him using their mind link.

"I want to know what you're saying too," I say, pouting. Leyla looks at me and she whimpers before glancing back at Blake.

He looks between us, and I bat my lashes at him, as if that will make me any more persuasive. Somehow, it works, because he sighs heavily and lifts a hand to rub at his forehead.

"Fine," he says. "Go get changed. Debrief in the kitchen in five."

With that, both Leyla and Thomas stroll past me. There's the sound of a faint thud, before footsteps track up the porch steps.

"See you in five!" Thomas hollers. Leyla giggles as their feet patter on the wood, then the cabin door swings open, and slams shut.

I don't even have time to feel pleased at being included in this little werewolf debrief. My mind's already on the tracks in the woods, and the wolfsbane on the porch.

I chew on my bottom lip anxiously and meet Blake's eye. "What do you think took them so long to get back?"

His brow lifts and I think for a moment that he's going to ignore my question, the way he usually does, until he says, "They must have caught a trail."

I nod slowly. My eyes flash down to his hand. The mark is still on his palm, though the swelling looks like it's gone down a little more.

I can't really tell, though, from here. It's not like Blake sidles up with me often. I should've savored his touch yesterday, committed it to memory. I wish he'd do it again, even just to let me get a better look at his hand.

Honestly, I'm dying to step closer, like that shimmering string between us is physically pulling me towards him. I want to grab his hand, look at the wound, make sure it's healing—make sure he's okay. I want to hold it to my chest until it's gone.

The thought strikes me so suddenly, I have to turn away.

Where on earth did that come from?

I wipe a hand over my forehead, hoping it looks like I'm just wiping the sweat from training off my skin. My cold fingers hover there for a minute.

Clearly, I'm coming down with a fever or something if that's what I'm thinking.

I almost have to laugh. Not a fever, just my imminent transformation into a werewolf on the next full moon. That's where these thoughts are coming from, and they're only going to grow stronger as the moon approaches.

Again, I think of how Blake must have felt seeing me hurt. I can see it through his eyes, watching me get chased by that man, watching me be stabbed.

It must have been torture for him.

I inhale a shaky breath, steeling myself, then force my eyes back up to him. "Do you think they found them? Whoever left the wolfsbane here?"

"No." He answers with no hesitation. "I would have heard earlier." He glances at his watch, then nods towards me. "I think you have time to fit in five push-ups."