Free Werewolf: Impossible Love by Emily Neily Page A

she growled to herself as she struggled back to her feet. It was just as much a warning as it was a motto. Daylight would come again. With it would come Marshall. With Marshall would come his hounds, and his flashlight, and—
    Panic gripped Serenity’s throat at the very thought of Marshall catching up to her. She fought her brain’s efforts to shut itself down like a crashing computer. She let out a scream. She started running. She clawed at her face and pinched her arms and leapt through the snow, trying to shake the blind fear that threatened to drown her.
    Another false step sent her crashing face-first into the snow. That was all it took to tip the battle in the panic’s favor. It rose like a sticky black tide over Serenity’s senses, drawing her breath in rapid, shallow gasps that whimpered on their way out. She tried to fight it, tried to fight the inevitable replay of Marshall’s wrath that came with the sticky, mind-choking fear.
    All she could do was scream.
    ****
    Serenity didn’t realize that she was going to pass out until she woke up. A moment of brief confusion gave way to the sickening realization that she could smell a man—that a man was touching her.
    She screamed, flailed, fought to her feet, tried to take off; her legs only cooperated for a few steps before giving way. The panic was back. The panic had never left. She was trapped. Trapped in iron, trapped in mud, trapped in ice, no legs, no legs, no legs, no legs; she screamed as she tried to crawl through the snow, swim through the darkness, drown herself in it before—
    “Oh, goddammit, will you calm down?”
    Serenity realized that she had never heard that voice before. A crack of clarity showed through the mind-clouding fear, and she turned around to see the shadow of a tall, broad-shouldered, and completely unfamiliar man standing over her.
    She stared at him in silence for a few moments. The gas lantern he carried cast shadows over thick, dark brows and deep-set eyes—the only part of his face neither covered by a scarf nor by the furry flaps of his hat.
    “Can you understand me?” he said, speaking slowly. “Me entiendas?”
    Serenity nodded.
    “Uh, estas, uh, corriendo de la migra?”
    She shook her head. “I don’t speak Spanish,” she said. “I—” she shook her head as the pace of her breath picked up again.
    “You’re fine, you’re fine.” The stranger knelt in front of her. “Now, we’re gonna go back to my place, all right?”
    Serenity recoiled from the touch of his hand on her shoulder.
    “Do I need to knock you out?” he said. “Your leg’s a—”
                  The thought of him striking her sent Serenity back into panic mode. Like a fear-maddened horse, she tore away from his grip and started throwing her body away from him however she could. She limped, she fell, she crawled—
                  She came to on a woolen blanket, in a yellow-lit room that smelled vaguely of ham. Her vision was too blurry to make out many details of where she was; her head felt heavy and swam with sleep.
                  Serenity tried to call out for—for help? for information? but all that came out of her mouth was a soft murmur. It occurred to her that someone had given her a painkiller or five. She shut her eyes again.
                  “Are you awake?” the stranger’s voice said.
                  Serenity opened her eyes and blinked up at his shadow until he came into focus. He looked even bigger indoors—well over six feet, with wide square shoulders and a broad chest. Shadows deepened the furrows of concern on his broad, craggy features.
                  She managed to nod at him, still not sure how speech was going to work out.
                  “I went and got your bag out of the car,” he said, pointing to the floor by the bed. “And, uh, your teddy bear.” He reached toward Serenity’s lap, picked up Mr. Binky, and set her