30. Sinclair

Rip.

Snap.

Breathe.

My tie comes off in shredded pieces, buttons flying as I try to do just that. Breathe. Nothing works. A low growl rumbles in my chest, my hands clenching the edge of the sink. My vision darkens. My teeth aches as they stretch and retract. The mirror reflects a pair of feral eyes staring back at me.

My fist lashes out, smashing the glassy surface.

Breathe.

I can't fucking breathe.

Agony like fire courses through my back, and I collapse onto the cold, hard tiles, baying.

Not now, I growl inwardly, but Sable has always had a mind of his own, never submitting, always raging and fighting for control. It makes it that much harder to stay in human form.

I'm more Lycan than man. I will always be. It doesn't matter how long I walk in human clothing or skin. I'll always be more of a simple minded beast than the complex creatures that humans are, indulging my basest desires without restrictions.

And now, that decision is to run wild in my damned of