Instead of engaging, she moves on to the next question. “What do you eat?”

“Well, I’m not a vegetarian.”

She doesn’t laugh. Not even a twitch at the corner of her mouth.

I try not to sigh. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Although I do hunt small game when I’m in wolf form. And the pack will sometimes take down a deer or two.”

“The pack?” Her voice ticks up a notch, and a new wave of bitter fear mixes with her scent.

I cringe. Probably shouldn’t have revealed there’s more than just one werewolf roaming Pine Falls.

If Roderick knew how easily I let that slip, I’d be in for a major beatdown. There are plenty of humans in town who are in on the secret, but those are locals. People who grew up knowing about us. Roderick is not a fan of outsiders, as he refers to them.

“We keep to our own,” is one of his favorite mottos.

Zoey’s breath hitches out faster than a moment before. She’s panicking, and it’s all because of me.

“I know this is freaky. But I swear you’re not in a horror movie.” I try out my most charming smile. “More like a paranormal romantic comedy.”

Zoey’s gaze flicks to the deep gashes on my chest, to the dark, ominous woods surrounding us, finally settling on my face with an incredulous stare.

I get her point.

When Zoey looks away again, we fall back into silence. She trudges forward, and I wince with every limping step she takes, fighting the urge to wrap a supportive arm around her waist.

“Who else?” she whispers.

Zoey never whispers.

Even still, I can’t give her what she wants. “I can’t name names.”

Another few minutes of no talking, then, “The Dark Moon Riders.”

I flinch. It wasn’t a question though.

“Full moon?”

“We get a stronger urge to change those nights. The pack will head a few miles out of town and then go on a hunt.”

“Silver bullets?”

“You looking to kill me?” I ask with an almost-hopeful laugh.

At this point, I might welcome her attack. Anything to bring back the vibrant, confident woman I know rather than this scared, confused shell of her.

“Are you looking to kill me?” She stares up at me now, her eyes so wide that they seem to take over her face.

And I lose all ability to joke about the situation.

“Fuck. No. Gods, no.” I want to grab her arms, pull her into my chest, clutch her close until she understands how desperate I am about her.

But that would only scare her more.

Instead, I offer my vulnerabilities. Hoping to put us on more even ground. “Silver or lead. Gets us all the same. We’re not immortal.” I gesture at the cuts on my chest that throb with a constant sting. “Just more durable. And stronger.”