He talked nonstop for half an hour, explaining as I stared out the window at the passing trees and houses that being changed into a werewolf did something to your hormones, made you need sex and violence like drugs. All I’d walked in on was a quick, no-strings tryst. It was just an outlet, not a relationship. Not like what we had.He knew how upsetting all this must be to me; he and Kimberly forgave me for my temper tantrum, though she’d like me to reimburse her for the clothing I’d destroyed. He, on the other hand, wouldn’t hold my rash acts of the moment against me.He talked about how understanding Kimberly had been, how very gracious she was about the whole thing. That she’d taken it all in stride when he explained to her that he might be sharing his body with her, but his heart lay with me.It was all flowery and flattering and passionate—and clearly horseshit. I didn’t believe any of it for a moment. His justifications were just that—a means for him to make it okay to cheat on me.
