[BOOK ONE] When hunter-gatherer Adele Shepherd comes across an injured werewolf in the woods, it's up to her to take him in and save his life: in a remote town dedicated to killing the creatures, she's the only one left who wants to help no matter t...
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THE COLD SET in as though it had been injected straight into her veins, seeping deeper than Adele's skin as she lay stunned and sore on the gravel driveway, blood clotting and freezing on her palms as she tried to will herself to get up. Her back ached where she had hit the ground and her head was throbbing where a sharp stone had slashed her scalp. Drying her fingers on her jeans, she touched the back of her head and her fingertips came away red.
With a wince, she dug her hand into her pocket and pulled out a glove. The fibres snagged on the cut and she seethed, gritting her teeth as she balled up the material and pressed it over the cut, ignoring the searing pain in her palm as she heaved to her feet. There were scrapes on the steps where she had desperately tried to get her balance, gashes in the ice where she had landed, a trickle of blood marring the snow.
The world span when she stood. It took a moment to settle, her vision pulsating for a few seconds before she forced herself into action and stumbled towards her truck. She needed to get out. That much she knew. The longer she stayed, the less likely she would make it out alive, but her hands were sore and numb. As she lunged for the door handle, she lost her footing on a patch of ice and let out an involuntary cry when her knees gave out. She crashed to the unforgiving ground a second time, her fingers jammed in the handle as she crumpled. The door swung open. The sharp corner collided with her nose, fresh pain searing through her as it split the skin across the bridge.
The universe had conspired to ruin her. Or Creighton had. She knew which was worse.
Struggling through the pain that crept into every inch of her being, she heaved her screaming body behind the wheel and slammed out the cold that stiffened her bones. Her hands burned when she gripped the steering wheel, ice melting into the jagged cuts, but she gritted her teeth and jammed the truck into drive. The gear stuck. The car was old and cold and the shift often played up, but this time it elicited a yell of frustration and a punch that hurt Adele more than it hurt the gear.
