Thorn (Werewolf) ✔

Chapter Forty

I am turning into a wolf and I can't stop it.

Lyle has exhausted his options. He tries a head on attack. He throws his head at my stomach and tackles me backwards. We fall to the floor and his legs tighten astride my waist. He places his hands around my throat and starts squeezing. I curl my hand around his wrist and I snap it. He screams and slides off me. The noise is different. The high-pitched vibration stings my ears. He clutches his wrist as he rocks on his knees.

"What the fuck are you?"

"Your worst nightmare."

I place myself behind him and I throw the thin rope over his head, pulling it against his throat. I take deep breaths. It feels so good. It feels fucking amazing. He scratches at my hand, he tries to headbutt me and wriggle out of my hold.

The power is addictive. It rivets and moves inside of me like a worm. I can't turn it off. I can't stop this. It is claiming me—this powerful and beautiful change. So many changes. So much. I close my eyes, keeping a mighty hold on Lyle's life. It is in my hands.

He would have killed me too. But my death would have been slower and a lot more painful. I've dreamed about this moment since the first time he touched me in that room, since I saw the smirk on his face that enjoyed my misery. My morality compels me to release him, to save myself from becoming like him, but this rage is too incredible. I don't know what will be left of my humanity. I can't feel it right now. I just know that relief outweighs regret.

"Thanks for bringing me back."

I yank the material until I hear it slice into his throat. I push his lifeless corpse to the floor and I watch the blood pour out around his blue, puffy face. I take enjoyment in his demise for a few more seconds until it actually hits home that I've killed him.

I murdered someone. He might have deserved it but what does that make me? I back away from the body, crawling towards the corner of the bedroom. Why did taking a life feel so good?

I glare down at my nails that are growing into claws. My spine is next, it bends and makes my body curl forwards. It is the most painful thing I've ever felt in my life. I scream as I hold it, my hands bang into the wall to unleash some form of ease. Nothing makes a difference.

I don't feel right in my own skin. I want to claw out of it. I can't stand anymore. I crash down to my knees and I place my bony hands in front of me. That's when I hear the door open. I roll onto my bent spine, squealing at the ceiling.

"Don't come near me," I cry to whoever is witnessing this. "Run."

"Hey. It's okay."

I roll my head to the side, whimpering to myself as a fearless shadow ignores my warning and sits beside me. The fever is claiming me quickly but my eyes do not lie. They are sharp and alert. "Thorn?"

"I'm here."

"How?"

"The curse is broken."

"What?" I whisper. I reach up and touch his cheek, we smile at each other. I cry out with both happiness and agony. "It's broken?"

Is it really over? He's free? We can be together. Properly together. My heart reacts positively to that sweet and unbelievable information.

"I killed you. I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry." He crashes his forehead into mine and I feel his tears against my skin. "I thought I'd lost you."

"He brought me back," I whisper. "My heart stopped and he brought me back. I thought I was dreaming." I clench on my teeth and I curl my fingers into his jacket. "Make it stop. Please."