The Werewolf’s Wife

Chapter 1

The bones of my fingers ache when I finally unclench my hands from the steering wheel. I look out the front windshield. Rain is pouring down on the hood, and I can't see anything. Just a torrent.

I lean back in my seat, assessing my body. I don't think anything is broken. The airbags didn't even go off, probably because I hit from behind first before whipping to the side. I look out my window at the guardrail that I spun and smashed into. I bounced off of it, and it feels a mile away now.

Fucking mountain roads. I’m not quite sure what to do next. I don't have any signal on my phone, but I'm sure I would be able to get an emergency call to go through.

But do I even need emergency services? I think I'm fine. I didn't spin that fast. I was going pretty slow, all things considered. My car is still running but even if I got back on the road, I’m smart enough to know I shouldn’t go any further in this storm.

As I'm still trying to sort through what to do next, I see headlights.

It's my first reaction to panic. I can't tell how much of the road I'm blocking, and I don't know if the person driving will be able to see me in time to stop. I brace myself and hope for the best.

But when I glance back up, I realize the headlights are, in fact, slowing down. The car is stopping. Maybe it's somebody who can help me.

Oh, hello.

Through the rain, I see a big, hulking figure, probably a man, come up to my window. His big palm slams down on it three times in quick succession.

“Hey, are you okay in there?” a deep voice calls through my window. I can see the vague shape of him, but the deluge is so heavy that he's just a blur.

“I think so,” I shout. I could just be high on adrenaline. I might have a concussion or something and not even know. But I think I'm okay. Everything feels fine.

“Your door's a little dented,” the man yells, “but I think I can get it open. One minute.” He starts to pull at the door and I'm afraid he's going to break the handle right off. But once it budges an inch, he gets his fingers in the crack and pries it open.

For a moment, I just sit there, stunned. It's like a superhero just opened my door.

But his voice brings me back out of my shock. “Can you move?” he asks from somewhere up by my front tire.

“Yeah,” I say, blinking back into awareness. He puts out a hand and I take it without thinking, letting him help me out of the car.

And then I'm standing in front of him, the cold rain pouring down around us.

I look up into his face and freeze.

“Brynne?” my husband asks. “The fuck are you doing here?”