I turned on my bedside lamp, letting a warm, dim glow settle over the room. I cracked my window open—I was so hot. I couldn't afford an A/C, and the night air was still cool outside. Honestly, I preferred it to a creepy machine that made the air cold and smelled like a dead cat.
From my window, I could see the forest in the distance. Most of the town's lights were out, and only a few people wandered the streets below. The breeze caressed my skin, sending goosebumps down my arms and hardening my nipples through my white camisole. And then, I smelled it.
That scent.
The one from the forest.
Coffee, sunlight, and dark chocolate.
I closed my eyes, savoring it. I didn't know what it was, but my body immediately responded. A dull ache formed between my legs, warmth pooling low in my belly. It was intoxicating. Delicious. I couldn't resist.
Slowly, I trailed my fingers over my stomach, brushing my skin as I went up and cupped my breasts beneath my shirt. I felt so exposed standing by the window, but I didn't care. Let them watch. Let them see.
I pinched my nipples and sighed softly, my thighs clenching, my core tightening. But it wasn't enough—I needed more. My body was hypersensitive, every touch amplified—the cool breeze, the soft brush of my clothes, the overwhelming scent that wrapped around me like a drug.
Still playing with one nipple, I slid my other hand into my pajama shorts, my fingers finding my clit. A moan slipped past my lips. The scent—it was driving me crazy. I traced my wetness, coating my fingers before pressing slow, teasing circles. My breath hitched, my knees shaking.
I lifted one leg, resting it on the window frame as I slipped a finger inside myself. My walls clenched instantly, welcoming the intrusion. It wasn't enough. I added another, stretching, filling. My rhythm built, my fingers working in and out, again and again. My moans grew louder, my body trembling.
Faster.
Harder.
I was close, so close. My breath came in ragged gasps, my toes curling, pleasure winding so tight I thought I'd snap. With one final, desperate thrust, I pinched my nipple hard—
And came.
A violent, shattering orgasm crashed over me, stealing my breath, leaving me shaking. My forehead hit the cold window as I rode the waves, my mind hazy, my body spent. I had never felt anything like that before.
And then, I remembered.
The blood.
I snapped out of my daze, quickly reaching for one of my hunting knives and a Tupperware from the kitchen. Taking a steadying breath, I sliced my arm, watching as thick, crimson blood pooled into the container. I winced. I hated cutting myself like this—it was impersonal, clinical.
Usually, when I offered my blood, it was during sex, given freely in the heat of the moment. Not like this. Not poured into a plastic container like leftovers.
I waited until I'd collected almost a full cup, the wound already closing as my werewolf healing kicked in. With a sigh, I sealed the container and shoved it into the fridge.
Well, that was efficient. One hell of a good time, and the deal was almost sealed.
I went to the bathroom and slapped a bandage over the cut—just in case. The last thing I needed was to wake up in a blood-soaked bed. With the nightmares, it would send me straight over the edge.
Back in my room, I inhaled deeply, searching for the scent again.
Nothing.
Disappointment hit me hard. Which was ridiculous. It was just a smell.
Wasn't it?
What the hell was wrong with me? Getting off to a scent like some kind of animal in heat. Maybe I was finally losing it. Wouldn't be surprising.
Shoving the thought away, I climbed into bed, sighing as my cool sheets wrapped around me. My mattress was heaven, though I barely got the chance to use it. I turned off the lamp and settled in, my heart still racing.
It knew what was coming.
Sleep meant nightmares.
I wished I felt safe. I wished I didn't feel so alone. Being a werewolf without a purpose for this long was unbearable. The alphas had vanished, leaving our kind lost, directionless. It had to be even worse for the older wolves—the ones who remembered what it was like to have a pack, a mate, pups. To have everything, only to lose it all.
No wonder so many of them had given up.
It was hours before I finally drifted off, my mind clinging to a dream of what could have been—a world where the packs were whole again. Where the Moon Goddess had returned.
But, as always, the nightmares found me the moment I fell asleep.
I woke up gasping, my body drenched in sweat, my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. My skin was intact—no wounds, no scars ripped open again—but the phantom pain still lingered. My head throbbed from exhaustion.
I dragged myself out of bed and went straight for the coffee.
Today was the day.
The day I sold the blood.
And for the first time in forever, I felt something close to excitement.
It wasn't real control—not when Andrew had forced this on me—but it was something.
For a single day, I would be free.