I'm the first one up the next morning.

I stir awake well before my alarm, and sit up in bed, stretching contentedly. I didn't sleep many hours last night, but I feel refreshed.

I think of last night, sitting next to Blake on the porch step, breathing in the cooling fall air, and something erupts inside of me. I feel like a giggling school girl with butterflies in my stomach.

I turn, slamming my face into my pillow and groaning loudly.

In one minute, I'll get up and all thoughts of Blake will be purged from my mind.

But for these next sixty seconds, I let myself linger on it.

I've had crushes before, but nothing that manifested into a real relationship. By the time I was old enough to be interested in one, Biance had entered my life.

I never had time for it with all the rules Bianca would set for me. No boys allowed over. A curfew of six p.m. A laundry list of chores to be done before I could have any time to myself. An old brick of a phone with pre-paid credit.

I have no idea what I'm feeling for Blake. No idea what to do about it. Not that he wants anything to do with me—not until the full moon. Not until he knows I'll survive.

I roll off my mattress, and with it, shove all thoughts of Blake from my mind.

I won't think about him again. Not until the full moon. Less than three weeks. Surely, I can manage that.

I stalk into the bathroom with the sun barely on the horizon. The whole cabin is still quiet when I step out, ready for the day.

It's still so early, I doubt anyone will be up for a while. My stomach growls and I take it as a sign to get a head start on my daily meditation. If my wolf-side has so much control over me now, I can't imagine how strong it'll be once the full moon unleashes it completely.

Outside of the cabin, the breeze is cool. I can smell the morning air—the grass, the dew, the forest.

Before I can go down the porch steps, my eye catches on something.

There, on the porch rail, someone has placed a flower.

It's purple, with round petals lining down the main stem. It's unusual—something between a hyacinth and a bluebell. A flower I've never seen before.

I lean closer. It smells earthy, like most plants, but bitter. So bitter, my throat tightens at just the scent.

I scrunch my nose and lean away.

Who put this here? I haven't seen flowers like this anywhere around the cabin. Someone must have brought it here from farther away.

I doubt Leyla and Thomas went anywhere last night, which means... Did Blake bring this back?

No, I would have noticed if it was here last night. The smell is so strong, even from far away.

Frowning, I pick it up and hold it in my hand as I take a seat on the porch step. The scent is so pungent, it'll be the perfect meditation tool.

Looking at it closely, it's pretty, despite its bitter smell. I twirl it between my index finger and my thumb, watching the petals spin, when suddenly my fingers burn.

I yelp, dropping the flower beside me and glowering at my fingers. What was that? I turn back to the flower. There must have been a thorn or something.

Whatever it was, I'm not touching it again.

I rub my fingers together as the pain subsides. No blood. No marks. Weird.

Ignoring it, I cross my legs and close my eyes.

My wolf instincts are always stronger in the morning. I think it's my hunger, exacerbating my lack of self-control.

With my eyes shut, I try to home in on the scents I can smell. The bitterness of the flower is the strongest, but beyond it, I can smell the grass, the forest, the morning air.

I choose the smell of the grass to focus on. The scent of the flower overrides it, and it takes effort to ignore it. I visualize everything in my mind, moving away from the flower and slowly zooming in on the image of the grass until it's all I can smell.

I hold it there for a solid five seconds before a bang echoes in the distance.

I jump, my eyes squeezing shut tighter.

Well, someone's awake.

I hear the shuffling of feet in the cabin, doors opening, a yawn. I sigh, trying to follow Leyla's advice and let the distractions drift in and out of my mind.

I recenter on the image of the grass.

I can see it in my mind's eye. I can smell it. The only thing that matters right now is grass.

BANG!

"Clover, what the hell—"

I turn, my eyes opening to find Blake storming out of the cabin. He's clearly just woken up. His hair is messy, and he's got sleep written all over his face.

But he's not looking at me.

His eyes are decidedly focused on the flower sitting beside me.

He storms forward, one arm grabbing my shoulder and shoving me back, his other hand darting out to swat the flower away from me.

I gasp, sliding back until my back presses against the porch rail. Blake hisses too, his hand releasing me to grab his own wrist.

"What are you doing?" I exclaim, peeking over his shoulder.

"Argh!" Blake cries. He squeezes the wrist of the hand he'd used to push the flower away. There, on the skin of his palm, a huge red welt appears in the shape of the flower stem.

"Oh, my God!" I shout.

I rush forward and grab his forearm, dragging his hand closer to my face so I can see it better. The welt is angry and red. It looks so painful.

"I'm fine," Blake says through gritted teeth.

"You're clearly not," I say. I release his arm and turn towards the cabin. "I'll go get Leyla and Thomas."

"No." Blake grabs my hand and I freeze, turning back to him. He winces and slowly drags my hand back to his wrist. "Stay. I'll be okay in a minute."

I frown. His hand holds mine down on his skin until I wrap my fingers around his wrist, when his body almost sags with relief.

I think back to when I was still recovering from my stab wound. Just being near Blake seemed to help. Touching him relieved all my pain.

I wonder if it works the other way around too—if my touch helps relieve his pain too.

It must, judging by the way his wince melts off his face.

"Okay," I say, relenting. "If you're sure."

I sit back on the porch step, and he leans closer until his head hits my shoulder. I turn very still.

Every time he touches me, it's like I've never been touched before. And now, having my mate's head on my shoulder like this, it's exhilarating. I don't want to do anything that will make him change his mind.

I don't want him to go back to the distant Blake that he usually is.

I try to relax, but every piece of him that touches me sends shivers down my spine. I can feel his hair tickling the bare skin of my neck. My whole shoulder feels hot with his warmth.

Swallowing drily, I glance at his hand. He rests it on his knee, palm facing up. The red welt isn't as angry and red as before, but it's not healing as fast as I imagined.

Instead, it's turning a bruised blue-purple. The swelling sticks out of his palm, like a worm buried under his skin. It makes me anxious just looking at it.

My eyes move from his hand to the flower, sitting on the grass.

"What happened?" I murmur.

"Aconitum napellus," he says. I give him a questioning look and he adds, "Also known as wolfsbane."

"Wolfsbane is real?"

He nods. "It burns us to touch, makes us sick when eaten. It can even kill in high concentrations."

"That explains the smell," I say. I glance down at my fingertips, where the flower burned me. My skin isn't even red. "Why didn't it hurt me?"

"You're not a wolf yet," he says. He releases a long sigh and murmurs, "Thank the goddess." He falls silent for a moment before asking, "Where did you find it?"

"It was on the porch railing," I say. "I thought you put it there."

"Clearly not," he says.

I almost roll my eyes. Almost, until I remember he's hurt and in pain.

"Who did then?"

"Probably whoever's leaving those tracks in the woods," Blake says.

My heart sinks.

"They were here?" I ask. "Right on our doorstep?"

"Possibly." His jaw twitches, his brow furrowing. I can tell the thought pisses him off.

Hell, the thought pisses me off. My thoughts inevitably move to Bianca. I know it's impossible. The tracks were human and wolf, and there's no way she could have tracked me out here.

There's no way.

I look nervously at Blake. "Who do you think it is?"

"Could be anyone."

Well, that doesn't exactly reassure me.

Suddenly, he sits upright. My shoulder feels cold without his ear pressed against it, but he doesn't move away.

He turns towards the cabin door. I follow his gaze and a second later, Thomas steps out into the cold morning air.

"What do you want?" he asks, rubbing his eyes.

I almost scoff, realizing he's used his mind link to summon Thomas.

"Take a look," Blake replies.

Thomas yawns loudly, his eyes squinting open until they land on the wolfsbane, lying on the grass. "Oh shit."

"Yeah, oh shit. Know anything about it?"

"No clue. Is it related to the tracks they found in the woods?"

"Most likely," Blake says. "Where's Leyla? I need a tracker on it before it loses any scent."

"She's coming. She was in the shower when you called," Thomas says. His frown deepens. "You don't think it's Diego, do you?"

"Could be. I doubt it, but it could be. My list of suspects is a short one."

"Diego?" I cut in. "Who's that?"

They both turn to me. Thomas looks as if he forgot I'm here. He looks back at Blake with a lifted brow.

"You taking this one?" he asks.

Blake sighs. "He was the Alpha before me."

"The one you took over from," I say.

"The one he challenged," Thomas adds.

"Challenged?" I echo. Thomas doesn't answer my curiosity, only levels another look in Blake's direction.

"It doesn't matter," Blake says, shaking his head. "Point is, I need you and Leyla to track this back to its owner."

"If anyone can trace it, it'll be Leyla," Thomas agrees.

"I know she will."

"I can hear you two talking about me," Leyla says, pushing the cabin door open. Her hair is plaited in a loose, wet braid behind her back. Her eyes land on the purple flower in front of us. "Wolfsbane, huh? Wow. I've never seen it in person."

"Whoever's doing this is going through a lot of effort," Blake says.

Leyla nods, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "You're right. No wolfsbane around here for miles." She steps forward and pulls a tissue from her pocket. Carefully, she wraps it around the wolfsbane and picks it up. "We'll find the source. Don't worry."

"I'm not," Blake replies. He nods once. "Report back with what you find."

They take that as a dismissal.

"Good luck with your training," Thomas says, winking at me as he turns towards the forest.

Just the thought of training sours my mood. I shoot him a glare. "Thanks."

"We'll be back soon," Leyla says, following him.

I watch their backs as they race towards the forest, shifting into wolves along the way. They vanish into the tree line and it's just Blake and me, alone again.

I look down, realizing my hand has been wrapped around Blake's wrist this entire time. His palm is still swollen, though not as much as before, and the redness has almost entirely faded, replaced with a dark bruise.

"That's as good as it's going to get," he says.

I glance up to find him already watching me.

I think it's a cue for me to let go, but I don't move. He doesn't either.

We stay, seated together, my hand awkwardly placed on his skin. His muscles are rigid under my touch, and I realize he's struggling to relax too.

"Why is it taking so long to heal?" I ask. "I thought wolves heal faster."

He lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. "Wolfsbane. It's like poison to us wolves. Slows our whole system down."

I purse my lips. Whoever put that flower there knew we'd find it, knew what it would do to us. But what was their goal?

If one of the others had found it instead of me, they wouldn't have gone near it. It just so happened to be me who spotted it. I'm just glad my sense of smell was strong enough to catch the bitter scent before I tried touching it.

"Why do you think they put it there?" I ask suddenly, turning to Blake.

He frowns. He's probably come to the same conclusion as me. "Maybe a threat. Maybe someone's playing with us. Teasing something bigger to come."

His eyes trace a path from my face, down to my hand, still resting on his arm.

"It's a good thing it didn't hurt you when you touched it," he says.

"Do you think that's what they wanted?" I ask. "For me to touch it?"

A muscle in his jaw tenses. He's silent for a moment, then he stands, shaking my touch off him. As he does so, he clenches his injured hand. His wince returns, just for a second, before his usual, cold expression is back.

"Whatever they wanted, we'll find them, and we'll find out," he says.

I nod. I know he will. I haven't known Blake for long, but I know he's good at getting his way. It's how he got me to eat pancakes with him, a lifetime ago in that dingy diner.

"For now, you just need to focus on one thing," he adds.

I groan, already knowing what he's referring to. "Training?"

He lifts his brow and I groan again, forcing myself to stand.

Training without Leyla and Thomas is as dull as it sounds. I have no one here to cheer me on.

All Blake does is watch me with a keen eye, occasionally typing away on his phone. Alpha duties, he tells me when I ask about it.

I notice the way he favors his left hand, the way his right hand barely touches the phone. I can still see the welt on his right palm. My stomach turns at the sight of it.

I don't know what it is. A mixture of worry, and...anger? Anger, that my mate is hurt. With the full moon less than two weeks away now, it's becoming easier to tell when my wolf side is magnifying my feelings.

And right now, I feel sick with it.

Is this how Blake felt, seeing me hurt?

I can barely concentrate on my exercises without glancing in Blake's direction, my hands curling into fists each time I catch that welt on his hand.

I really hope Leyla can track whoever did this down.

And when she does, there's no telling what I'll do to them.