Disclaimer: I don't own the books of the Wolves of Mystic Falls series, Maggie Stiefvater wrote them.

Summary: My version of the next book. After Sam's been cured of his werewolf past, Grace and him finally get their happy ending. Shelby wants revenge. Shelby's happy ending was corrupted when Grace came into the picture, now Grace's ending will be destroyed. While Grace tries to fight off Shelby, can she fight off the cold that once plagued Sam? Shelby is furious. Shelby is hungry.

H U N G E R

Chapter 1: GRACE

10 Degrees F

The night was cold.

I didn't know why it was so cold, but I suppose it was because it was the dead of winter. But I felt colder than I should have. I was barefoot, without a jacket, wearing only a yellow, silk dress that went to my knees. My pale fingers scrunched in on each other under the weight of the piercing cold, and my feet buried in ankle-deep snow. The snow melted against my skin and re-froze, killing every means of warmth I held. The iridescent woods glowed a dark light, a stark contrast to the light, falling snow around me.

I turned around in a circle, staring up through the trees of the silent forest that seemed frozen in time. A shapeless cloud of frost blew out in front of me in reactant to my breathing. The forest was empty. Dead. It was me and the cold.

A movement out of the corner of my eye sparked my attention.

My head snapped in that direction, more clouds of shapeless frost rising from my skin, my breath, my frozen body...parallel to me stood a hulking form, blending perfectly into the frosty white of the snow, the gracefulness of the forest, and the quiet of the fallen. My eyes travelled up the long, athletic, snow-nipped legs, across the powerful, muscled chest and landed on the angelic face that held two soft, vicious blue eyes. Her face was as white as the snow around her, and her anger and pain was as strong as the muscles standing out against her thick fur coat.

Shelby.

She stood beside the trees where she belonged, staring at me. My stomach lurched at the sight of her, remembering the day in my kitchen when she had attacked me. I remembered the first time I touched Sam when he was a wolf, the growls that erupted from her chest. I remembered the savagery in her expression as she stood outside my window on the deck. I remembered the possessive look in her eyes as she stared at Sam with such intensity that it hurt.

And I turned around and ran.

The snow was deep and slowed me down, but I ran as fast as I could. The wolf part of me screamed at me and told me to flee, for she was going to kill me. I was going to die. The cold became more prudent and sharp as my lungs struggled to expand, and with every pounding step into the splintering snow I became weaker.

Boom.

More vulnerable.

Boom.

More lost.

Boom.

More cold.

"Sam!" I screamed into the dead woods, feeling Shelby closing in on me. The icy frost breathed on me, begging for me to give in. "Sam!"

The coldness took me in, wrapped around me, sank deep into my bones like a disease.

With a start, I woke from the nightmare panting. My eyes scanned around me, taking in the dark, still room. The moon was out tonight. I glanced at the clock. 3:15. My eyes landed on Sam sleeping next to me soundlessly, the sheets tangled around him. The moonlight shown across his back, highlighting the soft curve of his spine, the broadness of his shoulders, and the smoothness of his back as it rose and fell with his every sleeping breath. I laid back down onto my pillow, shivering.

I had never been so cold.

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