19 | Dasher

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I had somewhat gotten the hang of being a werwolf in the week I had been at it. Unlike training to be a witch, which involved lots of practicing and meditation, being a werewolf required nothing but letting that anger I had stored inside of me out. No polite declining of curious witches, no pretending I didn't burn every time I sniffed a werewolf, no trying to get into my zen zone—just releasing it out into the open where nobody could get hurt.

It was safer this way. I wasn't my cousins in danger.

Fynley had assured me they would be in danger if I didn't learn to manage the wolf within me. I'd lose my temper, either at them or someone else, and they would suffer. Either by having to hurt me with magic, which would hurt them, or they wouldn't touch me, and I'd hurt them. I couldn't picture either Eden or Calla being taken off-guard. Then again, I was new to this world—something I was reminded of every single moment I spent with the supernatural.

It wasn't as bad as I thought being with the pack. I had to keep reminding myself that they were my enemies, especially when Jagger said some funny shit or someone laughed at one of my jokes. Fynley had even relaxed a little—as long as he was away from Eden. When he was near here, he was always tense, always on edge. I didn't like for them to mix, but Calla was always with Ezekiel, and Eden didn't want to leave me alone.

Did I want her to leave me alone?

Yes and no, and it bothered me that it had only been a week, and I was already trading her for werwolves. My cousin. My actual family, who had taken me at my mom's incessant wishes and not balked under her enemies for me. She had gone above and beyond, and I knew she would never admit it, didn't think it was above and beyond, but she had. What kind of cousin did it make me to like—

"Baby, the sound of you... better than a harmony."

I paused, looking up as someone's sweet voice traveled to my ears. Iris. Goddess, her voice was angelic when she wasn't singing, but now it was something else entirely, something sweet and enchanting. She was singing to some children, who had begged her to hear the song.

Even when I wasn't thinking about her or looking at her, I knew what she was doing, what she was saying, and how she felt.

"I want you off my mind... and on me."

Her voice traveled down my ears and into my spine. I wrapped my arms around myself, watching her. Taking in by her. She had a smile lighting up her beautiful face, a gentle, teasing smile as she sung to some little boy. He had to be about seven, but he was already tall and rail-thin, all buck teeth and long limbs.

"Holdin' me closer than we've ever been before.

"This ain't a dream.

"You're here with me."

He spun her around, that little boy, and she laughed, pulling him into her and swaying with him. I didn't know the exact family dynamics here, but I knew some people were related and others weren't. I knew most of them descended from the original werewolf families, which was what made this pack so strong—others, like me, were stragglers and had been picked up to find a home.

She released him, and Fynley stepped in, holding his hand out to her.

"I wanna love you in every kind of way, I wanna please you no matter how long it takes."

Iris grabbed his hand, her smile going from playful to charming. She rested her head on his chest.

They were such a perfect couple. Both of them powerful. Both of them beautiful. Both of them mean and dangerous. Both of them charming when they chose. It was what everybody wanted to be one they thought of life.

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