The car rocked again as someone slammed up against it; Tom couldn’t see who, the smoke was too thick now.

Jasmine stared about, wide-eyed. ‘Is that the cavalry?’

‘Cavalry getting their asses kicked,’ Tom said. His insides felt on fire. The urge was becoming overwhelming. It would be so easy … ‘No!’ he yelled in frustration. ‘Come on! Open!’ He gasped with effort as he put all his strength into forcing open the stuck clasp. ‘Come on!’

But his human strength wasn’t enough. He was still trapped, powerless to get Jasmine and Rico out of there. His blood burned hot in his body, his mouth stung with the tang of iron. The ’wolves from the Porsche could break in and do anything to them while he and Jasmine and Rico just hung there, helpless …

And then, though his head was swimming, Tom heard the quiet whoosh of flames igniting. He gave in to the change at last.

As he roared at the delicious pain coursing through his body, the windshield cracked and shattered. Arms reached in eerily through the smoke that belched out from the fusing electrics in the dashboard, fingers urgently groping the air, searching them out.

Chapter Seven

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CHAPTER SEVEN

‘No! Leave us alone!’

To Tom, with his heightened hearing, Jasmine’s shriek was almost deafening. Flames were now licking at the window beside him. As his clothes tore open, as his bones warped, and his body refashioned itself into sleek lupine form, Tom fought to retain control, to stop himself from simply tearing into their attackers. He had to focus on getting Jasmine and Rico safely out before the whole car went up. Only that mattered.

But the smoke was being sucked out through the jagged hole in the windshield, and the air was clearing. He was exposed.

Jasmine stared at him, horrified. ‘Jesus, you’re one of them!’ she screamed, tears rolling down her face. She was no longer cool, no longer assured. Her voice was shrill, almost childish; terror and hopelessness shone wetly in her eyes.

The seat belt could no longer support Tom’s weight. The fabric snapped and he fell against the roof of the car. One of the groping hands fastened around his throat and he snapped at it, drew tangy blood, began to drool.

Jasmine writhed in her seat, still dangling upside down, trying to free herself from the belt. ‘Keep away from me!’ she yelled – at Tom, at the groping hands, at the flames that were now roaring up beside the driver’s side window.

A loud clunk from the rear of the car sent a sudden realisation sparking through Tom’s clouded thoughts. The hands hadn’t been reaching in for them at all. They’d been searching for the switch on the dash that opened the trunk.