BooksBarbecue
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

Carefully, he stands and walks to the pile he made a moment ago. Before the mountain lion came and fought the mysteriously appearing wolf. In the dim light of the moon, Warner’s skin glows pale white, making the claw marks oozing blood even more pronounced.

My mind tilts and sways, and I try to clutch at some form of reality before I lose my balance and tumble into insanity.

But there’s no sense to be made.

“Zoey?”

He’s in front of me, dressed again, hands reaching. I flinch away, stumbling to the side.

“Did you put psychedelic mushrooms in my lunch?” My voice is a desperate rasp. “Am I tripping?”

Warner lets his arms drop and slowly shakes his head. “I know this is a lot. But we need to keep walking. I don’t think the lion will come back, but I can’t be sure.”

Walking is such a normal thing.

Can I really do something so ordinary? With him?

Numbly, I nod, then push myself to take a few unsteady steps.

His hand stretches toward me again, but I move away, into the middle of the road.

“Y-you walk there.” I gesture to the side of the road he’s standing on with my hand that’s holding the bear spray. Then, I shuffle across the middle line, claiming the opposite side before trudging forward.

“Zoey …”

I ignore him, trying hard to concentrate, all the while too scared of what this new world is.

Men turning into wolves? That’s fiction. Fantasy. Something from a strange dream.

A dream.

That must be it. I fell asleep at some point, and this is a twisted story my mind has made up.

In a dream, I don’t need bear spray, so I let the canister drop from my slack fingers. I use my free hand to pull up a sleeve and pinch my arm.

I don’t wake up.

No matter how much it stings.

Next, I try pinching the meaty part of my thigh, digging my nails in with a bruising grip.

But I don’t blink and find myself in the bedroom of Grandma Minnie’s cabin.

I’m still dragging sore feet through dead leaves on the shoulder of an empty back road with a wolf-man’s eyes burning into the side of my head.

Everything about this dream seem so solid. So real. I’m fully entrenched in it.

My reeling mind reasons that a simple pinch won’t wake me up. I need something as painfully real as this nightmare to shake me out of it. If I want this confusing world to disappear, I have to shock myself.

The handle of Warner’s knife has grown warm in my palm. The blade shines as clear as a mirror as I raise it, setting the well-sharpened edge against the skin of my exposed forearm.

23

WARNER

The smell of blood hits my nose the same moment I hear her gasp.