Tessa
Tessa woke with a start.
She always slept with the windows open.
Her mother told her it was a terrible habit and one day, one of the many people she had broken would take the window in to slit her throat.
Tessa left it open anyway. She feared nothing. Feared no one. Not even death.
But there was something about the displacement of the air that made all of the hairs along her and rise and every instinct in her body snap taut.
She knew she was in danger before her mind caught up, her Lycan growing restless in her chest. Frightened.
She sat up fast, sheets slipping from her waist, heart already hammering, every sense she possessed flaring at once as an ominous pressure settled over the room, as though something abominable had entered it and was now standing very still, watching her.
Tessa's claws extended halfway before she identified the shape at the foot of her bed, bent slightly to pick up a bottle of liquor from the floor.
Maisie Adams.
