[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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AFTER MIDNIGHT STRUCK, the wind began to howl. It whistled around the cabin to the tune of a nightmare, a swirling gale wailing outside the window as it whipped the trees to and fro and lurched Adele from the comfort of her dreams. It was hard to sleep when the cabin felt as though it might be ripped from the ground; she had tossed and turned for what felt like an eternity until exhaustion had at last overwhelmed distraction.
She rose before the sun. The sky hung like a noose overhead, a hazy shade of uncertainty that smothered the trees, forcing exhaustion on her as she pushed back her heavy duvet with a yawn. There was no point trying to get back to sleep when it was almost seven and the sun would lift its lazy head before long, a pathetic stream of light filtering through her bedroom window if it managed to break through the trees that scraped the walls.
Hitching up her thick pyjama bottoms, she adjusted the sports bra she had fallen asleep in and pulled on a woolly jumper over her top. The vast majority of her clothes came from charity shops, hardly any of them a proper fit, but the baggy snuggliness was appreciated in winter and that morning, she was beyond grateful for the oversized men's fleece she had picked up for a fiver. She tugged the sleeves over her fingers and headed straight for the kettle. Before she could deal with what she had done last night, she needed coffee.
Her heart was beating out of tune; her stomach was ablaze with anxious fire; her brain a knotted web that reformed each time she tried to unpick what she had got herself into. There was no point bothering, not when she would soon have a million more questions plaguing her brain, and the answer to them all was in the garage.
While the kettle boiled, she slowly washed her hands and glanced out of the kitchen window at the pines bending as the wind continue to roar. Just looking outside made her shiver, wincing at the frosted ground. It had frozen overnight, fallen leaves crystallised in the vegetable patch. It was useless when the ground froze, lying dormant until spring rolled around and thawed the mud enough for her to sow seeds and reap the rewards.
