'You're a white wolf too, aren't you?'
His whisper echoed in Brittany's mind, and as the lands grew darker and the moonlight bathed her skin, she felt bare…completely stripped of the only secret she swore to carry to the grave. Horror and disbelief contorted her face.
A painful headache made her stagger as she traced back through her mind, desperate to recognize the moment she had messed up. But there was nothing. She had never let it slip. Alpha Luke went as far as forbidding the others from speaking of it. And her friends might have been dicks who talked behind her back, but she believed they knew their boundaries.
To be suspected by an outsider was just not possible. Then how? Was it her scent? But Tyra said her scent was no different from any other normal wolf, and even if there were small remnants of those creatures, witches… werewolves of today would not be able to tell the difference.
