Back Claws and Crochet Save as PDF
Chapters (69)
  1. Cover
  2. Untitled
  3. CLAWS & CROCHET
  4. NEWSLETTER SIGN UP
  5. CONTENT WARNING
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. 38
  44. 39
  45. 40
  46. 41
  47. 42
  48. 43
  49. 44
  50. 45
  51. 46
  52. 47
  53. 48
  54. 49
  55. 50
  56. 51
  57. 52
  58. 53
  59. 54
  60. 55
  61. 56
  62. 57
  63. 58. Epilogue
  64. EPILOGUE
  65. VISIT FOLK HAVEN
  66. SEDUCED BY A SELKIE
  67. NEWSLETTER SIGN UP
  68. ALSO BY LAUREN CONNOLLY
  69. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Only, as I sneak into the chilly night, I admit my route is much more pleasant than crawling through sewers full of human waste.

Still, there’s an element of danger.

The moon sits high in the star-speckled sky, having lost one sliver that would make it full. The light it casts is enough for me to see the vague outlines of trees and bushes. There are plenty of shadows.

Memories of a menacing growl creep from the recesses of my mind.

I push the thoughts away.

I’m only crossing the yard. Not running into the woods.

As I reach the bottom rung of the tree house ladder, I make the connection I can’t believe I haven’t before.

Could the animal that scared me have been a werewolf? Is that why Warner was asking what it looked like?

The idea brings on an uneasy chill that makes my fingers shake as I begin to climb.

If I was being stalked by a werewolf that day, then that means I didn’t accidentally stumble into the wrong part of the woods. Someone wanted me scared. Someone might have been planning on hurting me.

And as I crawl through the entrance to the tree house, another realization pricks at me.

Climbing a tree might keep me safe from a wolf. But not a werewolf.

The minute I stand, I know something is wrong.

My bare foot on the old wood is accompanied by an ominous groan.

A loud crack sounds. My whole world shifts.

My terrified scream rends the calm night open.

43

WARNER

“Are you moping? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you mope before.” Courtney plops down on the stool next to me, bumping her shoulder into mine and jostling my beer. I clutch it close to keep the contents from spilling before taking another swig.

“I’m not moping. I’m brooding. It’s a good look for me, right?” I try to offer her my normal charming smile, but from her grimace, I bet I didn’t get anywhere close.

“What’s wrong? No, wait, let me guess. Could it possibly be four cockblocks having a slumber party at Zoey’s house?”

I snort. “Yeah. You could say that.”

Zoey’s brothers do have me feeling pissy. But it’s more than that.

I’m angry at myself.

My first impression with her family was as a possessive asshole, practically begging to get into a fight. No one in this town, not even the people that know about the wolves and are scared of us, would use those words to describe me.

I didn’t know I could get that way.

But the second I pulled up to her cabin and scented not just one strange man, but four, my hackles were up. Zoey and I haven’t talked about mating, but that doesn’t change the fact that my wolf is pushing me to lay claim.