[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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A CROW CAWED in the depths of the forest, the sturdy flock roosting for the season in the bare branches of the mighty oak trees that stood tall in the woods, fighting for space amongst the thick firs that dominated the landscape once autumn came and the leaves fell. The wind whistled through the trees, whispering its secrets to the fauna that rose through the snow like a phoenix; the caustic gale that carried the promise of a bitter winter in its dewy hands.
It didn't matter how cold it was outside. It didn't matter that the sun had failed to break through the heavy clouds for three days straight. It didn't matter that the falling snow had given way to slushy rain that battered the cabin, drumming on the roof and lashing against the windows while thunder rolled overhead. A bright bolt of lightning had struck nearby, the surge of scorching electricity splitting a tree.
None of that mattered when the past three days had been the most serene in Adele's life, a mellow seventy-two hours in the kind of domestic bubble she had spent her life avoiding. She and Caleb had hardly left the house since she had brought him back to the cabin, angry and frozen: an entire day of talking had allowed her to clear her mind a little more, and she had made a concerted effort to understand Caleb, helping him as he had wrestled with the words he needed to explain himself.
Ordinarily, she hated to be trapped in her tiny house for more than a day, when the walls began to feel as though they were closing in on her. That feeling should have been intensified with someone else in the house, especially someone who took up so much space, yet claustrophobia had yet to set in. They had found a rhythm, as though their feet were dancing a synchronised waltz to a tune they couldn't hear.
The music wasn't in their ears: it was coursing through their veins.
The hearth had swiftly become their meeting spot each morning, gathering around the heart of the house as they blearily shared hot coffee in front of the warm fire until the caffeine kicked in and Adele could face the day. The week had started to melt into one long stretch with only her phone to remind her what day it was, minutes slipping into hours that wove together to confuse her.
