Greyson
The last of the spiders' venom had faded from my skin days ago, but I could still feel them.
Not the crawling feeling. That had stopped sometime around dawn. This was different. An itch. Deep under my flesh, like the poison had laid eggs in my blood and they were hatching.
I scratched at my arm. Hard. It did nothing to elevate the itch. All it did was tear open the healing flesh. Blood welling up under my nails.
Son of a bitch. Elma, my wolf, roared in my head. Stop. Doing. That.
"Make me."
You're tearing yourself apart.
"It's itchy"
My wolf could heal almost anything. A hole in the chest. A broken femur. Hell, he'd healed the damage when I was fourteen and decided it was a good idea to get high by drinking alcohol fermented with wolfsbane. Twenty hours of excruciating pain, but he pulled me through.
But for some reason, he was completely useless when it came to the aftermath of spiders.
I scratched again. Harder.
