But my stubborn right wrist remained mostly human. I was stalled there, and my fur would not come.

“Finish it, Faythe.…” Marc murmured, careful to keep his distance. I wasn’t much danger to him at the beginning of my Shift, but I now had canines and three sets of deadly claws. If I lost control and he got in the way, it wouldn’t be much of a fight. “Let it come. You can’t finish until you let your arm Shift.”

I know! I growled, but if he understood, he showed no sign.

“Do you really want to have to throw all your punches with your southpaw? Wouldn’t it be more satisfying to throw some resisting son of a bitch’s head back with your right fist? You can’t do that until it heals. Let it heal, Faythe.”

“Rrrrrgggghhhh!” I closed my eyes, clenched my newly formed jaw, and mentally shoved the Shift into my arm.

Pain exploded in my wrist. Both halves of my bone wrenched themselves into place, and I screamed again, an inarticulate expression of sheer torture.

Distantly, I heard the door open, and a brief, thin line of sunlight slanted across my in-between form. “Shhh!” Jace whispered as he closed and locked the door. The scent of sausage washed over me, and my feline stomach growled. “Faythe, you have to hold it down, or someone’s going to call the cops. You sound like you’re giving birth!”

Insensitive bastard. He’d never hurt like this. He couldn’t have. He hadn’t Shifted until he’d had several weeks to recuperate from his broken bones.

Deep down, I knew Jace was right. Knew I was being irrational. But in that moment, I didn’t give a shit. I just wanted the pain to stop.

“You’re almost there,” Marc said. “Just your paw. Come on…”

I sucked in a deep breath, and once again directed the Shift toward my right hand. My fingers shortened. My palm lengthened. The agony in my newly formed wrist radiated halfway up my arm.

The instant my paw formed, my skin started to itch and burn all over. Fur sprouted in a wave across my back, rippling to rapidly cover the rest of me. And finally, as a sort of Shifting coup de grâce, the uneven line of fur flowed over my front legs. The gash in my left arm burned like hell as new fur sprouted to cover my new stitches and developing scar.

Then, at last, it was over.

I lay there panting from my physiological miracle, and the guys both stared at me. Marc sat on the floor a foot away, and Jace squatted several feet from him. “Damn,” he said finally, staring at me. “I can’t believe she really did it.”

“I can.” Marc smirked. He’d never had a doubt.

“I just know how much it hurt me after six weeks.” When Marc had beat the living shit out of Jace for leaving his keys for me to use to run away from the ranch. “She’s had less than two.” Jace crawled closer and stroked the fur and whiskers on my exposed left cheek. “You’re amazing, Faythe. I don’t know of anyone else who would have even tried that.”