I took another step toward him. I knew what I wanted to do, but it would mean a second, much-greater violation of the Keepers’ Laws. He tried to move back but gasped in pain and collapsed onto his elbows. My eyes moved over his face. His chiseled jaw and high cheekbones twisted in agony. Even writhing he was beautiful, muscles clenching and unclenching, revealing his strength, his body’s fight against its impending collapse, rendering his torture sublime. Desire to help him consumed me.

I can’t watch him die.

I shifted forms before I realized I’d made the decision. The boy’s eyes widened when the white wolf who’d been eyeing him was no longer an animal, but a girl with the wolf’s golden eyes and platinum blond hair. I walked to his side and dropped to my knees. His entire body shook. I began to reach for him but hesitated, surprised to feel my own limbs trembling. I’d never been so afraid.

A rasping breath pulled me out of my thoughts.

“Who are you?” The boy stared at me. His eyes were the color of winter moss, a delicate shade that hovered between green and gray. I was caught there for a moment. Lost in the questions that pushed through his pain and into his gaze.

I raised the soft flesh of my inner forearm to my mouth. Willing my canines to sharpen, I bit down hard and waited until my own blood touched my tongue.

Then I extended my arm toward him.

“Drink. It’s the only thing that can save you.” My voice was low but firm.

The trembling in his limbs grew more pronounced. He shook his head.

“You have to,” I growled, showing him canines still razor sharp from opening the wound in my arm. I hoped the memory of my wolf form would terrorize him into submission. But the look on his face wasn’t one of horror. The boy’s eyes were full of wonder. I blinked at him and fought to remain still. Blood ran along my arm, falling in crimson drops onto the leaf-lined soil.