12: Color Of Blood

ADRIANA

I hear it then, in the rough edge of Xander’s voice, in the way he makes me tremble even without lifting a finger toward me. I see the reason why he is so feared.

He could pretend to be a gentleman all he wanted but he couldn’t shake the monster he was underneath. He can wear a designer suit and comb his hair back, every single strand bent to submission atop his head. But that doesn’t mean he has control over his basic urges.

And last, his stride, always so confident and a tad bit too arrogant, had so much to do with that power. Not the one he showed the world, the one he hid carefully.

It made me wonder how much more they would really fear him if they knew what he was capable of. What he was truly capable of.

I hide the tremble in my hands, the feel of his monster, so close. The heat from him simmering under his host’s body and seeping into mine, like a slow poison.

This is the first time I am meeting Xander’s wolf like this.

I don’t recall anything about it. There is no fami