Book 19: Sacrifices Must Be Made

Ian

“That was better.” Fraser huffs a breath and shrugs back into his shirt. He winces, closing his eyes for a moment. Bruises fan across his shoulders and chest–large, deep paw prints. 

My clothes are shockingly intact, but I’m still in my fae form as the first glimpses of morning light turn the distant mountains a vibrant violet. Fraser carefully tucks in his shirt but moves like every step across the open air landing area high atop his mountain is painful. 

“Once you’re calmed down, I’ll meet you in the dining hall.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I did not ask if you were,” he says bluntly, and he leaves me alone to ride out the last waves of the transformation I’ve been battling for the past two nights. 

Shifting isn’t even the worst of it. It’