I wake up feeling wrong.
Not injured, not in pain exactly, but hollowed out in a way that makes my limbs feel too heavy and my skin too tight, like my body hasn’t quite decided which version of itself it wants to settle into after last night. My head throbs dully, my mouth tastes like metal, and when I roll onto my side the sheets are cold where they shouldn’t be, empty in a way that immediately tells me I’m alone.
That alone-ness hits harder than it should.
I lie there for a moment staring at the ceiling, replaying fragments of the red moon, the clearing, the vampires’ voices, the way my wolf moved without hesitation or fear, and the way the word he keeps echoing in my head still refuses to make sense.
Rise again.
I push myself upright slowly, the room tilting just enough to make me
