WIPWordSearch Excerpts February 2024 Week 1

“Secondly, I want you to know we won’t force you into this. No matter what anyone says, you’re here as valued friends and allies. We will not #demand a single drop of blood from you.”

Thomas tried to talk but only made a gasping sound. The #dark figure leaned in and stopped.

Lips barely moving, Thomas managed to croak out a few words before darkness took him.

“Help . . . me. . . .”

“I’m not insane.” Thomas had to #defend himself. He couldn’t let them leave now without a better explanation. “Will you let me explain what happened?”

Old tear tracks glistened beneath puffy red eyes. Her curls stuck out more than usual, as if she’d been running her fingers through them, and the crinkled daisies beneath her coat hem belonged to yesterday’s #dress.

A twinge of guilt pinched his chest.

Adrenaline surged into Thomas’ system as his mind connected the dots. Before he could #dart away, an unseen force behind him seized his body as if he were a light body pillow.

Mildly annoying, the experiments were infinitely better than his friends treating him as if he was going to attack at any second. He #double sneezed at the garlic powder Sean shoved under his nose, but it seemed to bother him in the same way a strong onion might, burning his eyes due to his new heightened sense of smell.

“My hair?” Clara glared in suspicion.

Benjamin was also taken aback. It wasn’t like the Crone to ask for something so seemingly trivial. He’d told Clara he had dug into his reserves and brought along an emerald ring, the green gem a particular favorite of the Crone to #demand when she was brewing their potions.

Clara frowned, reaching up and running a finger through her #dark hair. She should have gone to wash off the lingering scents from the vampire hideout, but she had to find Benji and warn the pack of what may be coming.

“We are hurt, ma’am. The kind of hurt that some might foolishly misinterpret as a weakness or the inability to #defend ourselves.”

Waiting wouldn’t make this easier. There was no point in #delaying any further. “I’ve got something to talk to you about, and it’s going to be a doozy, so just stick with me, okay?”

“You’re the pinnacle of fashion,” Clara assured him. “But seriously, what gives? Are you doomed to #dress like a stalker forever? Thomas didn’t look this bad.”

She could taste the foul mixture of rotting eggs and cabbage with a #dash of moist mothballs, and it took all her will not to throw up in the main room.

Weakness was not something that could be tolerated in the eyes of a potential threat, and Clara, in any form, had never been one to roll over and show her belly when the going got tough. That went #double for the wolf. Her primal, wolf-like mind was rearing to confront this new threat.