All Chapters of Wolfsbane - Finding The Wolf Within : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Fire, it burned like white-hot flames spread through her nose, mouth, and down the back of her throat. Each breath taken was done so in pure utter agony as the oxygen in the cool air stoked the flames engulfing her. Oh, how it burned! She could hardly stand it; she needed water, and she needed it now! But her body refused to move. Why wouldn’t her body move? Her arms and legs were so heavy, almost like they were being weighed down by a ten-ton weight. Oh god! The fire was spreading licking at her insides with pure glee as it went, disseminating to her chest and lighting up her lungs. She took in a breath, but it was like adding gasoline to the flames and it made her cough. Her muscles cried out in protest as she hacked away. And then as if that weren’t enough her head began to pound, the blood rushing in her ears like a river, roaring with each painful thump of her heart adding to her misery. It’s like they say, “Misery loves company”, she thought bitterly, when would this end? S

Her legs cried out in pain as they were assaulted again and again by the unyielding concrete steps. It was too dark for her to see the darn flight before her, so she fumbled with her footing, desperately trying to avoid any new additions to her bruises. Raymond Stilinski, the brawny brute who had taken it upon himself to stalk her best friend and cousin, had a merciless grip on her upper right arm. “Hey, my arm doesn’t bend that way dimwit!” she insulted him even as she was being half haphazardly dragged toward an unknown location that just so happened to be at the top of a flight of stairs so hard the world could crumble around them, and they would still be standing. Her bare feet scraped against the rough concrete; she was sure she would be missing a few slices of her soles by the time they stopped. The thug before her was twisting her arm into such positions she was sure were humanly impossible, and he just ignored her protests. He came out of the basement before she did, and he

Aiden was blinded by his anger and by the time he and his pack had found his mate’s scent it was already well into the next morning. Soon the sun would be peeking out from beyond the horizon and the Sun God would bring those slumbering back to the waking world. Sometime in the middle of the night, during their search, Aiden had gone ballistic and had to be restrained when his mate’s emotions suddenly dimmed after being hit with a tidal wave of fear, pain, and disgust. It had ripped through him like a jagged-edged knife it was a wonder he was still conscious. The grey wolf had nearly ripped one of his packmates apart, so blinded he was to whom he was attacking. His wolf cried out in anguish again aware of something he himself was not. It had taken the combined effort of Griffon, Aaron, and Jean to pin him down and save his unfortunate victim. The group had only tripled their efforts to find the missing girl after that, and they had been relieved when they caught the scent at the edge

The haunting sound that ripped its way out of her throat seemed to bounce off the walls and back again, echoing into the day. Her howl of absolute terror tore into the hearts of all the werewolves present as if it were knives, shredding at their emotions as they listened to the cries of a tortured soul. Aiden had abandoned his post at the door, allowing it to swing open and exposing the horror on his father’s face. He used his superior speed to rush back to the blackwood canopy bed in an effort to comfort his wailing mate. Instead, he was met with arms full of Griffon’s mate. Jayden had been sitting vigil at her cousin’s side while the hurt girl slumbered peacefully, or what they believed was peaceful, which had been disturbed by her night terror. The redhead began flailing, slapping violently at whatever haunted her dreams, and with strength that had come out of nowhere, the girl had shoved her cousin so hard she flew right off the mattress. Had it not been for Aiden’s presence sh

He writhed in agony as lava consumed him through his veins, the pain originating from the bite mark on his pale wrist. His gums ached and his throat burned as if scorched by the desert sand. God, he was so thirsty. It was a thirst unlike any other he had ever experienced in his short conniving life, and it tore through his pain. Suddenly overcome with the immediate urge to purge his stomach of its contents, Julian found himself leaning over the bed, knuckles white with the strength he was slowly regaining. Although the impulse was present the man only managed to heave dry air as if his insides had been as completely empty as the desert that raged on in his throat. The pain of each bone snapping back into place was staggering, to say the least, as if there was molten lava in his veins instead of the blood that had once coursed through their confines. He watched in a sick fascination as the broken skin knitted itself back together and its sickly raisin color faded to the deathly whit