Killian stared down at Raine's limp form, panic clawing at the edges of his control.
"This wasn't supposed to happen," he muttered, his jaw tight as he checked her pulse again. It was fainter now. Her breath came in shallow pants, and heat radiated off her body.
He knew this illness. Or rather, he recognized the signs—her body wasn't just breaking down, it was rejecting itself. Whatever she was… it was unstable. His only hypothesis was her wolf heat but Killian knew not much things about werewolves.
He is originally a vampire, His entire family and community were Vamps. It was until he turned sixteen that he realized the truth—he wasn't just a vampire.
The night his claws tore through his skin and the wolf roared awake inside him, his mother wept. Not from joy but from fear.