When Deirdre Collins awoke, there was no evidence that anything had happened. Not a single item was out of place. She was in her bed, much as she would be any morning.
She prayed it was a dream, because nobody would believe her if it wasn't.
It was a tense morning. Deirdre brushed her teeth, but kept getting flashes of the night before and what it felt to have her canines push forth into daggerlike fangs. With difficulty she pushed the thoughts away, brushing her hair, trying not to remember the wild mane it had become.
It wasn't real. It couldn't be real. It was just stress, right?
After dressing, she went to the market. Her fridge was nearly bare, having only really what she'd brought when she drove the moving truck into town. Lupine Falls had a little market, but it was more than sufficient for her needs.
Deirdre found herself lingering at the butcher counter. Disturbing as that was, she couldn't decide precisely why. Part of it seemed obvious, if she'd turned into a werewolf the night before. Still, she rationalized that away with the fact that it was so obvious. She was probably just doing it out of fear that last night was real, she told herself.
Backing away from the butcher counter, she hurried down another aisle.
That's when the smell assaulted her nose. Suddenly, she was acutely aware of a curious musk...
...coming from every other man and woman in the store.