Tessa sat there, nonplussed and staring dazedly at her empty dinner plate that the maid hadn’t taken away yet. Christopher had pulled up the chair next to her to begin his story, but it was difficult for Tessa to wrap her mind around the words.
She still couldn’t believe that she had seen him cut into his own arm and watched it heal within a matter of minutes. None of it made sense.
“I’m a werewolf, Tessa,” he said slowly and calmly, as if he were speaking to a frightened child. And she was. She was terrified and fascinated all at the same time and each emotion battled for control within her.