I wake up screaming.

My throat is already raw before I start to scream, but once I do, it really starts to burn.

My whole body burns.

My muscles, my skin, my organs.

I feel paralyzed with pain. Even when I do try to move, my muscles refuse to obey.

"Shh," a voice says. Hands hold down my arms. I hadn't even realized I was thrashing, but now I fight against the grip.

"Leave me alone!" I scream, ripping my arms away and kicking as hard as I can.

"Clover, it's me!" Blake's voice. He leans over me, and I see his face. His eyes are wide and filled with worry. It stabs me right through my chest.

Immediately, my moment of clarity vanishes, burned to ashes by the fire that rips through my body.

"It burns!" I shout, fighting against his grip. I don't even try to, but my body's not listening to me right now.

All my brain knows is, I'm on fire, and I have to get out.

His fingers dig into my wrists. Usually, his touch would soothe me, but right now, I feel nothing but the pain in my limbs.

"I know," he says. "I know. Just relax, please."

"No!" I scream as another burst of pain rips through me.

"Stay still!" he shouts.

I don't listen to him. His words barely register. I'm too busy kicking and screaming over him.

"Please don't make me use my Alpha voice," he says. "Please. Just stay still. You need medicine."

I turn away, shoving my face into the pillow that lays under my head. I scream into it, my entire body shaking. Despite it all, I still thrash under his grip, my body fighting against him.

Above me, Blake sighs.

"Clover," he murmurs. "Please."

Something about the way he says his name pulls my consciousness to the surface. It's like emerging from a fog, a fog that threatens to pull me back under, but I try my hardest to keep above it.

"Blake," I grit out, wincing at the rough sound of my own voice. Now that I'm not thrashing around so much, I can feel the burning in my throat, especially when I speak.

I look at him, blinking the tears out of my eyes.

"Clover, I need you to drink this." The mattress shifts as he moves to the side and grabs a cup from the table.

My body twitches as I fight against the urge to thrash against him and kick my way to freedom. I'm not sure how much longer I can hold it.

"This will make you feel better," he explains.

I frown at him, but nod. He lifts the cup to my lips and tilts it. The liquid is thin like water but tastes sweet, like honey, with something earthy underneath.

Instantly, my throat feels soothed. My muscles ache a little less, and the burning dulls.

"Blake," I whimper, the fog in my brain starting to clear. "It hurts."

"I know." He places the cup back on the table and frowns at me, gesturing towards the bed. "Can I?"

I nod. Blake leans closer until he's lying on the bed next to me.

"You almost used your Alpha voice on me," I accuse, my voice croaky. I can't speak louder than a whisper after all that screaming.

"I wouldn't have. I promise," he says. "I just really needed you to stop fighting me so you could take your medicine."

I scrutinize him. He looks at me with such sincere eyes. I sigh.

"I know," I say. "It's okay. I do feel better. Thank you."

He closes his eyes for a moment and shakes his head. "No, you don't. I can feel it. Your whole body is burning. It's killing me." He lifts his hand and pauses, hovering over my forehead. "May I?"

I nod and his hand lowers until it presses against my skin. I sigh, feeling the effects instantly. I shift a little closer and press my own hands against his chest. Even through the thin material of his shirt, I feel my body react—the pain eases, just a little.

It's not enough—my body still hurts like hell—but I'll take any tiny bit of relief I can get. I've never felt pain like this before, even when I almost died.

"Rest," he says.

I close my eyes and his hand moves, pushing the hair out of my face before sliding down my back and pulling me close.

With Blake holding me, exhaustion starts to weigh me down.

***

I'm not sure how long I drift off for, but when I wake up, it's in bits and pieces.

The first time, I'm roused by the sound of an unfamiliar voice. An older man with glasses and a white coat stands over me. For a moment, panic pierces my heart, but then Blake steps into my field of view, and I instantly feel comforted—safe.

I drift back, in and out of sleep. I hear Blake's voice at one stage, murmuring a prayer to the moon goddess beside me. I feel his fingers on my forehead.

Eventually, darkness pulls me under.

When I wake up again, I'm in less pain than before.

I blink my eyes open and take in my surroundings. I'm in Blake's bed. Not at the cabin, but at the commune. I lie in his bigger-than-a-king bed, in his immense bedroom, pulled straight out of an eighteenth-century castle.

I open my mouth to speak, but my throat is dry and every muscle in my body fights against me. It reminds me of when I was stabbed. I never thought I'd feel this way again.

"Stay still," Blake says.

I strain my muscles to turn my head, finding Blake sitting in a chair next to me. He reaches forward and presses a hand against my forehead.

"You're still burning up," he says. He sighs loudly and shakes his head. "I need to call the doctor in again."

He stands, his touch leaving me. I whimper and use all my strength to grab his wrist before he can leave.

"Blake," I croak, attempting to sit up.

"Lie down!" he practically shouts. I frown and his expression softens. Slowly, he lowers himself back into the seat. "Clover, the full moon is in two nights. I need you to heal."

Two nights. Distantly, that really freaks me out, but I'm focused on something else right now.

"What happened to m—" A fit of coughs cuts my words short. My throat burns with each cough, and my ribs ache with the movement.

"You're okay," Blake says. He hands me a cup of something. "Here, have some more."

I look down at the cloudy water. My throat feels raw. Burnt. I take a sip and savor the cooling effect it has on my throat.

"Better?" Blake asks, taking the cup from me.

I nod. "My throat... It feels like I swallowed razors."

"Someone poisoned you," Blake explains. He furrows his brow. By his side, his fingers curl into fists. "I should have known. I shouldn't have let you out of my fucking sight."

I blink hard. Someone poisoned me.

Slowly, it starts coming back to me. The drink at the café. The waitress, who called my name—who somehow knew my name.

They found me.

I don't know how, but by some miracle, Bianca found me. She found me, and she snapped, and now she's actually trying to kill me.

My eyes burn with the threat of tears, and I press my hands over them despite how my muscles ache with each movement.

"I need to find whoever it is that's been watching us," Blake growls. "They must have realized that you're my mate. They're trying to get to me through you."

I have to tell him. I can't keep hiding this from Blake. Not when I think I saw Richard in town. Not if they finally found me again.

"Blake," I murmur.

He falls silent and I peek through my hands to find him looking at me with such a worried expression. My heart sinks.

I don't want to worry him more. I can't keep burdening him like this. He's already taken me in. He's already dedicated every waking hour of the past three weeks to making sure I survive.

I know Bianca and Richard have no chance against Blake, but it'll be just another problem that he has to deal with. He's already stretched thin without my family feud to worry about.

If I tell him, I might ruin everything.

"Clover," he says. He rests his hand over mine and slowly pries my hands from my face. "I just want to protect you. Let me. Please."

I sniff and blink hard. I open my mouth to begin, but fear seizes my throat. The last time I told this story, the cops didn't believe me. I only found out later that Richard has deep connections with police departments across state lines.

"You have to believe me," I say. A stipulation.

Blake's brow furrows even deeper. "Of course, I will."

I nod, trying to find the confidence to relive this all over again. I swallow hard and cover my face again. "I don't know where to start."

"From the beginning," he replies. "Who stabbed you? Why?"

I let out a bitter little laugh. That's not the beginning. That's far from the beginning.

Blake must be thinking something similar, because he places a hand over mine and slowly pulls my hands away from my face.

"Why were you at the diner that day?" he continues. "Who were you running from?"

His hands hold mine and he meets my eye. It soothes me, calms me. I blink my tears away and focus on a spot on the carpet.

And then I tell him everything.

The words come out slow at first. Scared. I peek up at Blake's face to find him watching me, listening attentively. And then, the words pour out, all at once.

I tell him about Bianca marrying my dad. It was fine at first. She was distant, a little cold. Sometimes, when my dad was out on business trips, things would get weird. She'd snap at me for small things, like leaving my glass in the sink instead of the dishwasher.

And then Dad died.

I tell Blake about how Bianca changed overnight. It started with yelling at me, locking me in my room, and then she started slapping me, threatening to throw my mom's things out. My list of chores grew, and if I didn't finish them, she wouldn't let me eat.

I tell Blake about how I was too scared to leave, how I didn't want to leave my childhood home in her hands, how I didn't know where to go. I knew if I left, Bianca would be angry. I just didn't know how angry.

And then I get to a few months ago.

Just weeks before my twenty-first birthday, when Bianca locked me in my room and slid papers under the door. I learned that my dad left me his whole estate in his will. The condition: turn twenty-one.

Bianca knew the whole time. I refused to sign the papers and turn my inheritance over to her, and she refused to let me out of my room.

Eventually, I was so fed up, I packed a bag and jumped out the window.

The police were no help. I never even had time to figure out how to claim my inheritance. Everywhere I turned, Bianca was there with the papers. I guess, after a few months of not catching me, she got tired of chasing.

She must have realized that, if I die, the money is hers.

But how did she find me?

"I'm going to fucking kill them," Blake growls.

I grab his wrist before he can do anything stupid.

"No, Blake, I—"

"She treated you like shit! You were just a kid, Clover."

I blink at him through watery eyes. I don't know how long I've wanted to hear those words. I was just a kid. Bianca was supposed to take care of me.

"And," Blake continues, a vein bulging on his forehead, "they tried to kill you!"

"I know, but—"

"No. They sent someone after you at the diner," Blake says. "What if I wasn't there? You'd be dead!"

"I'll be dead anyway if we don't focus on what's important, Blake!" I shout. The yelling burns my throat all over again and when I speak next, my voice is rough and quiet. "The full moon is in two nights. Two nights."

"I know," Blake says. He sighs loudly and buries his face in his hands. "I know. The thought of it is torturing me."

He shakes his head, then grabs the cup off the bedside table and passes it to me again.

"Drink," he says.

I nod, taking a long sip. Again, my throat almost instantly feels better.

Beside me, Blake has that thoughtful look on his face again. He watches me, concern etched on his face as his eyes follow the cup in my hand. He presses his fingers to his forehead.

"You're right. Your stepmother isn't our main concern right now," he says. "Someone's watching us. I need to figure out who poisoned you first. I'll deal with her later."

"What do you mean?" I ask. "I told you all this because I thought she was the one behind it."

Blake shakes his head and nods towards my medicine. "Wolfsbane antidote."

My heart skips a beat. "You mean..."

"Whoever did this is a wolf. You think Bianca and Richard are wolves?"

"No," I say. "I mean, they're a lot of things, but a wolf isn't one of them. I lived with Bianca for years, I think I would know."

"But the waitress knew your name," Blake says. He clicks his tongue. "Whoever it is, they've been watching us. The wolfsbane in your drink was concentrated. They must have known that touching it didn't affect you enough. They needed you to ingest it, and in high levels too, just to be sure."

That explains the burning in my throat—in my whole body. The wolfsbane is in my bloodstream.

I take another sip of the antidote, hoping it'll speed up the healing process.

Blake stands, shaking his head.

"Don't worry about it," he says. "For now, I want you to focus on getting better. Rest up, and when you're ready, we'll go back to the cabin."

With that, he pats my head a final time and turns, leaving me in his room.

***

It's difficult to rest knowing the full moon is in two nights.

I get back to the cabin by sunset. Blake has to stay in his human form and carry me the whole way because I don't have the strength to ride on a wolf's back right now.

He plants me on my bed and tells me to rest, but I ignore him. Despite the ache in my muscles, I stretch.

I only had a sip of the wolfsbane, but my body hurts all over. I can't fold into a stretch as deeply as I usually can. I can't even imagine training right now.

I flop back onto my mattress with a groan. My eyes water and I wipe an annoyed hand across my face.

I was so prepared, so ready to face the full moon after weeks of non-stop training, and now this?

I could have survived. I could have made it. But now...

More tears come and this time I don't bother wiping them away.

I can never seem to catch a break. The past six years of my life—it's like the universe is against me.

I think of my dad. I miss his arms around me whenever I feel low like this. Even after Mom died, he pushed through his own grief to take care of me.

I sigh and wipe my hands over my eyes.

I can't lie here, pitying myself. Not when the full moon is so close.

With all the energy I can muster, I push myself out of bed. My legs feel leaden as I trudge out my bedroom door and down the hallway.

Outside of the cabin, the air is cold. The moon hangs high in the sky, taunting me. I glare at it, hoping it can feel my disdain.

The ground is colder than the air, but I force myself to lie down. Sit-ups have always been hard, but with the wolfsbane still in my system, each sit-up is agony. My entire abdomen burns with the effort.

I only manage five before I collapse on the ground, panting with effort.

I huff, slamming a fist into the dirt. I can't even do five stupid sit-ups anymore, and I have to go through my first transformation in a few days?

I'm doomed.

My eyes sting. Before I can cry again, I glare up at the moon and force myself to keep going.

I can't give up. I've made it this far. I'm going to survive this full moon. If not for me, then for Blake. For my mate.

I'm on my third set when the silver string on my chest flares to life.

I look up, glancing from the cabin to the forest. There, at the tree line, Blake appears, carrying something huge. I didn't even know he'd left after dropping me home.

I watch as he walks closer, shirtless and barefoot. It takes me a moment to recognize what he's carrying.

"Are those wooden planks?" I ask in disbelief. "What, you're renovating now?"

Blake pauses in front of me and nods. "It's for the full moon, of course. For the doors."

I frown. "You need to lock me in?"

"Not you," Blake says, smirking. "Your wolf."

"Oh."

He lifts a brow at me and looks over my body. "Training?"

"Trying to, at least."

"Huh. Good."

With that, he turns away and enters the cabin. Weird. I ignore him and get back to my training.

When Blake comes back out, the planks are gone, and he's dressed. His hair is wet, and he has the distinct smell of soap on his skin.

I collapse out of my sit-up when he reaches me and kneels down, frowning at me.

"How are you exercising like this?" he asks. "Your whole body—it's killing me."

Slowly, his hand creeps forward until it rests on my bare knee. I shiver at his touch but love the way my muscles instantly ease.

"I have to," I say. "Full moon's not going to wait for me."

He sighs. He shifts slightly and his other hand comes across my body, resting on my other knee.

"Alright," he says. "Go on."

"Huh?"

"Your sit-ups," he says. "If you won't rest, then we might as well multi-task. I'll focus on your healing, while you focus on your training."

I frown at him, suspicious, but he looks dead serious.

"Okay then," I murmur.

Slowly, I lower myself into a sit-up. Honestly, he's onto something, because with his touch, it's a lot easier. My muscles don't strain as much, and I manage to do double before I collapse and pant for air.

"Happy now?" Blake asks. I nod and he stands. "Good. Now rest. When I get back, you'd better be in bed."

I never thought Blake would be telling me not to train. Before I can argue, he settles me with a stern look before turning and walking towards the forest.

"Where are you going?" I shout.

"To the pack," he says. "I need more supplies."

With that, he shifts into his wolf form. He sends me one last look before sprinting into the forest.

Sighing, I figure I'd better listen to him.