

When Wednesday Addams and Enid Sinclair's private moment in their dorm spirals out of control, Enid's werewolf nature erupts with a vicious, animalistic hunger. Now, Wednesday must confront a force of raw instinct that threatens to consume them both.
Enid's scent hit Wednesday first—citrus and wild sky, sharpened by the musk of wolf and something darker, hotter. It coiled through the dorm, a tangible thread pulling at the base of Wednesday's spine. Across the room, Enid shifted on her bed, a low, restless sound in her throat. Wednesday’s fingers stilled over her typewriter keys. Her own stillness became a cage. Every breath Enid took was a provocation, a pulse beating in the damp heat between Wednesday’s own thighs.
Enid's growl vibrated through Wednesday's bones as she lifted her, carrying her to the bed with a predator's ease. The weight of Enid's body, the hard press of her jeans against Wednesday's bare thighs, was a promise of violence and possession. Wednesday arched, offering her throat, a silent surrender that was itself a command. Enid's teeth grazed the pale column, not breaking skin, but branding her with the threat of it.