Bloodborn (22 page)

“Yeah.” My voice sounds hoarse. “Try not to get yourself killed first.”

He laughs, flashing fangs, his pale pelt already cloaking his skin. I don't want him to become a wolf again, because then I know he'll leave me, but then I do, because I know he needs to run. I'll follow him soon enough.

Randall—the silver wolf—stares at me, nods, then disappears into the darkness.

I watch him go. The wolf inside me scrabbles against my ribs, aching to follow him, but the human in me still craves the touch of Cyn. I hate goodbyes, and I hate starting over. But at least I have a second chance to live.

Can't wait too long. Don't have much time.

I start to run, not toward Cyn, not toward Randall, but into the unknown night. I want to savor this moment before I must go, a stillness trapped in moonlight, where there's only me and the endless miles ahead.

I am Brock. And I am bloodborn.

Karen Kincy

About the Author

Karen Kincy (Redmond, Washington) lives among countless trees, some of which—her pet kumquats and oranges—have lovingly invaded her apartment. Unlike her characters, she has never been on the run from the law or bitten by a werewolf, though she has been known to howl at the moon. Karen has BA in Linguistics and Literature from The Evergreen State College and is studying toward a Master's in Computational Linguistics. Visit her online at www.karenkincy.com.