He snarled, an actual animal snarl, and grabbed me in a bridal carry, hauling me up off the ground as if I weighed nothing. My head lolled back, and I managed to pick it up enough to rest it against his shoulder, looking into that uncanny face.

"Your eyes," I said again, almost crying.

His face was tense and angry as he wheeled and started moving, carrying me held against his chest. "Nothing's wrong with my eyes," he said, the words clipped.

"Please," I begged, tears starting to fall, hot and burning on my cold skin.

His throat worked, but he closed his eyes for a moment as he took me out of the sunlight and into the forest shade. Then he opened his eyes and looked at me, an expression of unbearable tension drawing his face tight and making his lips pale.

Wolf eyes looked down at me out of the inhuman beauty of that face, the rich golden color of honey, the sclera of his eyes black and the edges of his eyelids as dark as if he wore eyeliner on his waterline. My lips parted as he stared at me for one long moment, a feeling of utter dislocation settling into me, as if my spirit no longer knew where to find the edges of my body. I was staring into the abyss, and the void was calling.

He blinked, and everything went wrong again, painted over like someone had tried to recolor him, pale green human eyes where a wolf's belonged. He turned away, his face twisting.

The fight went out of me, all my energy draining away, water out of a spilled glass. My eyes closed and my arm fell down, and I started softly crying against the chest of a man who wasn't a man at all, as he carried me out of the world.

4. No Thank You!

Chapter 4

No Thank You!

Sunlight streamed down through the curtains of the hotel bedroom, warm summer light. I must have slept late, maybe even through breakfast. I smiled a little, smelling clean sheets and black tea, and rolled over to drape my arm over James. Even though I'd only just woken up, I felt weak and a little shaky, like I hadn't eaten enough and had been climbing all day.

Nobody was in bed next to me, the blankets not even warm. James always got back in bed with me when we were on vacation, no matter how many times I made fun of him for watching me sleep like a creep.

I blinked my eyes open, feeling confused. The sheets were midnight blue and softer than any hotel sheets I'd ever slept on, not at all starchy and resistant to nightly bleaching. The quilt over the sheets was gorgeous, the sort of thing that people put in museums, a nocturnal forest scene with ghost-white deer slipping through the trees. What the fuck? Where the fuck—