My hand was healed completely by the time Rocco parked in the garage—though we had stopped to eat way too much fast food on the way. It stunned me, a lot, but Rocco reminded me that rapid healing was part of being a werewolf, so I tried not to freak out about it.

We were headed up the stairs, our hands bumping as we walked, when there was a hard knock at the front door.

I frowned and looked over at Rocco.

He frowned at the door.

“You can get dressed, I’ll get it,” he told me, ...