help him.
"You can tell me after you transform,” he bit out. “Save it for then."
"Really? Because that sounds nice and all, but also sounds like a huge pile of shit." The fury of the first day was back in her eyes, setting them alight. It made his heart beat with an anticipation that he couldn't quite explain. "You're telling me that you want to save me, but you chain me to the bed. You're framing yourself as this amazing hero, but you haven't told me who you are or where you're from."
Even the thought of bringing up his murdered pack with the girl felt somehow dirty, like their memories would be sullied by what he was attempting in the room. It felt... wrong. “It doesn’t matter where I’m from.”
She threw up her hands. "God, I can feel the guilt pouring off of you, even from over here. Give it to me straight, doctor: am I going to wind up chopped into pieces in a freezer? Maybe dumped in a river somewhere-- yeah, that seems thematically satisfying."
Slowly, Jack stood up from the chair. "This discussion is over."
"Sounds perfectly wide open to me!” she said, a dark glee in her voice.
"Enough," he barked.
She sat back on the bed, her arms crossed like a caricature of a stubborn teenager. She opened her mouth in recitation. "My name is Lacey Surname, I’m 24 years old, and I like--"
He was on her in a flash, covering the space between them faster than a human could move. He came to a halt about inch away from her, his lip curled in a cold snarl. "Enough."
She didn't flinch. He noted with a dull horror how fast the transformation was taking hold: he'd thrown himself across the room straight in her face, and she didn't even flinch.
She glared up at him, her own lip curling in a mirror response. "I work in a bar, have a little sister, and live in a too-small apartment with a room-mate who gets my nerves--"
He moved, the same as he had the night before. The weight of his body pinned her back down against the mattress, her chain letting out a jingle of metallic scraping.
But unlike the night before, when she had turned pliant and submissive under his alpha claim for dominance, she laughed straight in his face. "And you? If you're not gonna tell me anything, I'm gonna start making it up." She cocked her head to the side in mock curiosity. "Are you a John? You look like a John. So, John--"
He let out a snarl, then, a true wolf noise, the sort of animal challenge that sent a primal fear running down the spine of anyone and anything in earshot. He felt her jolt underneath him, as if raw voltage had been plugged through her body, and she breathed hard. Her eyes were large and dark, the pupils expanded to nearly fill the earthy brown of her irises. If she had been purely human, he would have thought she was on drugs. Instead, he recognised the responses of a wolf, fight or flight in full display.
"You know, the last time you did this, it did something to me!" she said." It was like you... I don't know, like you reached into my brain and switched off all the lights, like putting a blanket over a birdcage." She shook her head. "This time it's not gonna work, buddy!"
Jack pressed his weight down against her, and then harder when he felt her press back up against him, her body arching now not in submission, but in challenge. He tightened his hands around her hips, pressing her to the bed-- to him?-- he wasn't sure. When had he even grabbed her hips? He didn't know. His head was swimming with her, with this challenging creature with fury burning in her eyes. "Shut up."
She jammed her head forward, until they were almost nose to nose. He could breathe in the sweet, feminine smell of her scent, clear even under the notes of the soap he'd found. She smelt clean and fresh and wild, as if the energy of the river had come with her back to the bed. "Tell me who you are," she said, and the breath of her words brushed against his lips.
He felt hot, overheated, as if he was burning up from inside. Underneath him, her
"You can tell me after you transform,” he bit out. “Save it for then."
"Really? Because that sounds nice and all, but also sounds like a huge pile of shit." The fury of the first day was back in her eyes, setting them alight. It made his heart beat with an anticipation that he couldn't quite explain. "You're telling me that you want to save me, but you chain me to the bed. You're framing yourself as this amazing hero, but you haven't told me who you are or where you're from."
Even the thought of bringing up his murdered pack with the girl felt somehow dirty, like their memories would be sullied by what he was attempting in the room. It felt... wrong. “It doesn’t matter where I’m from.”
She threw up her hands. "God, I can feel the guilt pouring off of you, even from over here. Give it to me straight, doctor: am I going to wind up chopped into pieces in a freezer? Maybe dumped in a river somewhere-- yeah, that seems thematically satisfying."
Slowly, Jack stood up from the chair. "This discussion is over."
"Sounds perfectly wide open to me!” she said, a dark glee in her voice.
"Enough," he barked.
She sat back on the bed, her arms crossed like a caricature of a stubborn teenager. She opened her mouth in recitation. "My name is Lacey Surname, I’m 24 years old, and I like--"
He was on her in a flash, covering the space between them faster than a human could move. He came to a halt about inch away from her, his lip curled in a cold snarl. "Enough."
She didn't flinch. He noted with a dull horror how fast the transformation was taking hold: he'd thrown himself across the room straight in her face, and she didn't even flinch.
She glared up at him, her own lip curling in a mirror response. "I work in a bar, have a little sister, and live in a too-small apartment with a room-mate who gets my nerves--"
He moved, the same as he had the night before. The weight of his body pinned her back down against the mattress, her chain letting out a jingle of metallic scraping.
But unlike the night before, when she had turned pliant and submissive under his alpha claim for dominance, she laughed straight in his face. "And you? If you're not gonna tell me anything, I'm gonna start making it up." She cocked her head to the side in mock curiosity. "Are you a John? You look like a John. So, John--"
He let out a snarl, then, a true wolf noise, the sort of animal challenge that sent a primal fear running down the spine of anyone and anything in earshot. He felt her jolt underneath him, as if raw voltage had been plugged through her body, and she breathed hard. Her eyes were large and dark, the pupils expanded to nearly fill the earthy brown of her irises. If she had been purely human, he would have thought she was on drugs. Instead, he recognised the responses of a wolf, fight or flight in full display.
"You know, the last time you did this, it did something to me!" she said." It was like you... I don't know, like you reached into my brain and switched off all the lights, like putting a blanket over a birdcage." She shook her head. "This time it's not gonna work, buddy!"
Jack pressed his weight down against her, and then harder when he felt her press back up against him, her body arching now not in submission, but in challenge. He tightened his hands around her hips, pressing her to the bed-- to him?-- he wasn't sure. When had he even grabbed her hips? He didn't know. His head was swimming with her, with this challenging creature with fury burning in her eyes. "Shut up."
She jammed her head forward, until they were almost nose to nose. He could breathe in the sweet, feminine smell of her scent, clear even under the notes of the soap he'd found. She smelt clean and fresh and wild, as if the energy of the river had come with her back to the bed. "Tell me who you are," she said, and the breath of her words brushed against his lips.
He felt hot, overheated, as if he was burning up from inside. Underneath him, her
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