Chapter 2 Awakening Powers

Whenever I first heard the murmur of a heartbeat from across the room, I assumed I was going off the deep end. It was weak, consistent, and inconceivably far off. At the point when I understood it was the mouse concealing under the kitchen sink, I dropped the plate I was holding. The breaking sound didn't simply repeat; it seemed like an actual blow, sharp and overpowering. I fell to my knees, clutching my head as the world became unbearably loud.

The faucet dripped like a sledgehammer. The breeze cried through the breaks in the windows like an excluded shout. My own pulse thundered in my ears, a hysterical drumbeat I was unable to get away.

"Quiet down, shut up, shut up," I mumbled, squeezing my palms harder against my ears. But it didn't help. If anything, it got worse.

The next few days blurred together, a kaleidoscope of vivid dreams and waking nightmares. I dreamt of running-fast and wild-through the forest. My feet weren't my feet; they were claws, powerful and lethal. The scents in the air were vivid and layered, every nuance of the forest alive and teeming with meaning. When I woke, my body ached like I'd actually run miles on all fours.

And then there were the eyes in the mirror. My eyes. For a fleeting second, they weren't my familiar brown-they glowed gold, burning like the embers of some hidden fire.

Grayson was waiting for me on the porch when I opened the door one morning, looking like he'd been carved from stone. His dark eyes swept over me, and I hated how exposed I felt under his gaze.

"You look worse," he said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

"Good morning to you too," I snapped, crossing my arms.

"Don't be cute." His tone was clipped. "How bad has it gotten?"

I hesitated, torn between anger and a desperate need for answers. "Define 'bad.'"

Grayson's jaw tightened. "Dreams? Senses? Pain?"

"All of it," I admitted reluctantly. "I feel like I'm losing my mind."

"You're not," he said flatly. "But you're on the edge. If you don't get a handle on this soon-"

"What? I'll turn into a raging wolf and start tearing people apart?" My voice cracked despite my attempt at sarcasm.

His silence was answer enough.

Grayson spent the next hour explaining- or, rather, instructing. "You need to focus," he said, pacing the parlor like a fretful hunter. "Your powers are awakening, and on the off chance that you don't figure out how to control them, they'll control you."

"That is extremely soothing, much obliged," I mumbled, however the mockery passed on in my throat when he halted and fixed me with a glare.

"This isn't a joke, Evelyn. Your instincts will take over if you're not careful. The wolf doesn't ask consent - it takes what it needs."

I shuddered, folding my arms over myself. "I don't need this. Any of it."

"You don't have a decision," he said, his voice mellowing simply a small portion. "But you do have me. And the pack."

His visits became routine after that. Consistently, he'd appear unannounced, yapping orders and dragging me into impromptu lessons. Right away, I opposed - more in a spirit of meanness than whatever else. Be that as it may, the dreams were getting worse, and the heightened senses were becoming impossible to ignore. I really wanted assistance, regardless of whether it implied tolerating Grayson's overbearing attitude.

It was during one of these "lessons" that Liam Blackthorn showed up interestingly. He was all that Grayson wasn't - gentle, quiet, and unobtrusively sure. Where Grayson lingered, Liam appeared to recoil himself, cautious not to overpower.

"You should be Evelyn," he said, offering me a comforting grin. "I've heard a great deal about you."

"I want to think not all awful," I expressed, looking at Grayson, who was glowering like Liam's presence annoyed him.

Liam chuckled. "Mostly neutral, I promise."

Liam quickly became my favorite person in the pack, though I suspected Grayson didn't approve. He had a way of making me feel... normal, even when everything else in my life was spiraling out of control. He listened when I vented, reassured me when I doubted myself, and never pushed me to do more than I was ready for.

"Take it one step at a time," he told me one evening after I'd failed-again-to focus on suppressing my heightened senses. "You're not supposed to have all the answers yet."

"But what if I never get them?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You will," he said with quiet conviction. "You're stronger than you think."

It was almost enough to make me forget how terrifying everything had become. Almost.

Until Talon showed up.

I was outside, trying to clear my head, when I caught the faint scent of smoke. Not cigarette smoke-this was woodsmoke, sharp and earthy. I turned toward the source and froze when I saw him.

He was leaning against a tree, arms crossed, watching me with a lazy grin. His leather jacket looked like it had seen better days, and his hair was wild, dark strands falling over eyes that glinted with mischief.

"Who are you?" I demanded, my voice steadier than I felt.

"Talon Stormrider," he said, pushing off the tree with a fluid grace that sent my nerves screaming. "Rogue werewolf extraordinaire. And you must be the infamous Evelyn Hawke."

"Infamous?" I asked, frowning.

"Word travels fast in our world," he said, circling me like a predator sizing up its prey. "The little Wolf-blood who doesn't know she's dangerous."

I backed up instinctively, my heart hammering in my chest. "I think you have the wrong person."

"Doubt it," he said, smirking. "That scent of yours? It's unmistakable. You reek of power, sweetheart."

I bristled. "Don't call me that."

"Feisty," he said approvingly. "I like it."

Before I could answer, Grayson's voice slice through the strain like a blade. "Why in the world are you here, Talon?"

Talon turned, his smirk widening. "Unwind, Alpha. Trying to say hi to the new young lady."

"You're not wanted here," Grayson snarled, stepping between us.

"Come on," Talon said, pretending guiltlessness. "I'm simply attempting to take care of her. Somebody must come clean with her."

"What truth?" I requested, stepping around Grayson.

Talon's gaze locked onto mine, all hints of humor gone. "That the pack couldn't care less about you, Evelyn. They care about how you can help them. You're a weapon, not an individual."

"Try not to pay attention to him," Grayson snapped, his tone more honed than I'd heard it.

Talon raised an eyebrow. "Am I wrong Alpha? Enlighten her concerning the prediction. Tell her what the Lunar Board truly cares about."

Grayson's jaw fixed, however he didn't talk.

I turned to Talon, my chest tightening. "What prophecy?"

"You're Wolf-blood," Talon said, his voice low and steady. "The first in quite a while. Your bloodline conveys a power that witches and werewolves the same would kill for. Furthermore, they will, if you're not careful."

The world shifted, and I staggered back, my psyche hustling. "This... this isn't genuine."

"It's genuine," Talon said, his expression softening. "Furthermore, to get by, you want to quit confiding in the pack. They'll cage you the first chance they get."

"No more," Grayson snapped, stepping forward. "Leave. Now."

Claw faltered, his look waiting on me. "Contemplate what I said, darling. You have the right to know reality."

And afterward he was gone, vanishing into the shadows like he'd never been there.

I went to Grayson, outrage and dread rising to the surface. "What prophecy? What is he referring to?"

Grayson moaned, running a hand through his hair. "It's convoluted."

"Try me," I said, my voice shaking. "You owe me that much."

Be that as it may, he didn't reply. All things being equal, he left, leaving me alone with more questions than I could handle.

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