Soft light filtered through sheer curtains, pale and silver like moon-washed mist. Devon stirred for the first time in hours, maybe days, he couldn't be sure.
His body felt like a crumpled sheet of paper left out in the rain, every limb soaked with exhaustion and pain. It was the slow, muffled kind of waking that came after running too far, bleeding too much, and caring far more than he was supposed to.
A cool touch brushed his feverish forehead.
Devon's eyelids fluttered open, vision blurry, edges swimming like ripples in water. A shape leaned over him, tall, graceful, wrapped in white. When Devon blinked again, things sharpened.
The face hovering above him wasn't human. And it wasn't a werewolf.
