Lycan's Prey by Jessica Hall

Chapter 93

“Are you okay?” Max’s voice is laced with concern, but it feels distant, as if coming from underwater.

“Cramps,” I manage to gasp out, each word spiked with agony. The transformation is close, too close. My vision blurs, trees and sky merging into a spinning carousel of colors. I must get him to safety before-

“Which way, Bree?” Max’s question slices through my disorientation.

I blink hard, trying to clear the fog in my head. “This way–no, wait.” Every direction looks the same, foreign and twisted. We’re lost, wandering aimlessly as precious minutes trickle

away.

“Damn it,” I curse under my breath. I grab his hand and continue to drag Max through the forest. My heart pounds in time with our racing footsteps. The crunch of twigs beneath our feet seems unbearably loud on this quiet night when I hear other wolves howling, and I know they can sense me; my pheromones are off the charts.

“Stick close to me,” I order him, my voice laced with an urgency that has him nodding silently, all protests forgotten.

The moonlight streams down through the gaps in the canopy, casting a path for us to follow. I try to stay in the shadows of the trees, knowing that the moonlight touching me may force the shift I am barely controlling. We weave in and out of the shadows, the dense undergrowth pulling at our clothes as if

Chapter 93

snaps under Max’s foot, the sound echoing eerily as I cast a nervous glance around. Goosebumps lace my skin, and the scent

hand tightens, and he shakes my hand for reassurance that I’m struggling to give when the howls grow nearer. Despite his obvious terror, he matches my pace, trusting me to get him home safely. But I’m beginning to slow, my body

The change

a whimper as my bones start shifting beneath my flesh. Every muscle burns as though

worry etched across his face. “Bree?” he murmurs, and I shove him away when he

voice trembling slightly. But I can’t answer

need to go!” I growl, jumping at the

word or explanation, I push Max away as hard as I can. I send him sprawling into a pile

Chapter 93

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time to comfort him

and I feel it–the

The word is a growl, torn from