As the rag swipes down, it reveals not a black wolf, but an orange tiger. The tiger prowls up my arm, long and sleek and graceful. Like the wolf, its teeth are bared in a furious snarl. The Wolfpack laughs at the look on my face, Adrik more than anyone. “Do you like it?” he says. “I … I love it.” I really do. Adrik tilts my chin up and kisses me. “You’re one of us,” he says. “But you’re still you. You don’t have to give up your identity—just be with me.” “Always.” I kiss him back. “Enough of that,” Andrei says. “Let’s go celebrate.”
