Hot Blooded (Wolf Springs Chronicles #2) (16 page)

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“I’m sure,” he said. He wrinkled his nose. “Figure he’ll probably appreciate it more than I will.”

The moment they sat down, Trick began to reach for her hand, then put his hands in his lap. She was bereft, and the kaleidoscope of feelings inside her twisted again.

“Your grandfather told me what this means to you,” he said, voice serious. “I’m glad I can be here.”

The green of his eyes pulled her in. “Me, too,” she said, not trusting herself to say anything else.

Then the lights dimmed and the music began; music she knew, music she had moved to. Beautifully costumed performers defied gravity — and reality — and she was swept up in the magic of it. Everything in her yearned to be up there, to move like that. The conversation with Mr. Fenner and Justin chafed at her, and only made her want it all more as her heart swelled and ached with every moment. She felt as if she was watching her life, the life she had dreamed of, rushing by, and she wanted to reach out and catch it, make it go more slowly, beg it to wait for her to figure out how she could still be a part of it.

“Incredible,” Trick whispered, and she looked — really looked — at him. She saw how moved he was, and looked at the planes and angles of light and dark playing on his face.

He understands; he sees the other world that this is.
Surely she could tell him about her new world. She could.

Her breath wouldn’t come.

He wanted to help. He would help. He was already involved.

She closed her eyes. Could she risk Trick’s life over this? Was she risking Cordelia’s life if she didn’t?

If she didn’t tell him, and he discovered the truth anyway, what would happen?

The room began to spin and she could barely see. Her heart was beating too fast and sweat beaded on her forehead. She felt incredibly sick and she could barely force herself to sit in her chair. Something was happening to her. All the objects in the room — the people, the seats, the stage, the rigging — burst into white light, then reds and oranges. It looked like fire. And then a girl appeared, high in the sky, seated in the center of thick, fibrous ropes. Katelyn began to tremble, then shake. Her ears began to buzz.

Then the girl on the swing performed the final movement, the leap.

And she began to plummet toward the ground below.

“No!” Katelyn screamed.

It all happened so fast: the girl, falling; Katelyn, screaming; and Trick’s arms around her, tightly, as the crowd burst into laughter and applause. They had assumed her scream was part of the act.

Trick pressed her face against his neck as he put his lips up to her ear. He said, “I’ll get you out of here.” He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her up as he stood.

Then he was cradling her against himself as he hurried her up the aisle, out into the lobby. She was biting her lip to keep from sobbing aloud, but she couldn’t stop the tears. He kept walking, and she felt a blast of cold air. They were outside, and a sullen moon and gray-fisted clouds hovered overhead. The chill stung her face and she was dimly aware that Trick was taking off his coat and wrapping it around her. Then he was wiping her face with a piece of cloth — a handkerchief — and pressing her body against his. Her face fit into the space between his clavicles and his chin, and she shuddered against him as he held her in his arms.

“It’s my fault that she died,” she told Trick in a rush, and she was surprised she said it. And yet, she couldn’t stop herself. “My mom. I was on painkillers when the earthquake happened, and I was so doped up that she couldn’t get out in time when the . . . fire started.” She felt tears on her cheeks.

“And now I’m
here
,” she said, anguished, “and there’s so much. Oh,
Trick
—”

“I’m here, darlin’.” Trick brushed his lips against the crown of her hair. His heart was thundering and she felt icy, unwell. But then she had the sharpest sensation of being watched. Almost as if someone were poking at the back of her neck with one long, cold finger. She stiffened and darted her gaze left and right.

Oh, my God
, she thought, freaking out as her knees buckled. Trick was already holding her so tightly that he probably didn’t even notice. She had to get it together. If Lee Fenner had sent a spy to watch her . . .

“I’m okay now,” she said. “I’m fine.”

“Katie,” her grandfather said. She didn’t know when he’d come up to them. Maybe he’d been the one watching. She hoped so.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just . . . it was . . . I — I was dreaming of the Mexican cloud swing when the earthquake happened. It just hit me all over again. But I’m . . .” she took a deep breath. “. . . monumentally embarrassed.” She raised her voice and forced out what she hoped was a convincing laugh.

Just then, people poured out of the doors and walked toward them, talking, laughing. The performance had ended.

“Good timing,” she said, trying to make a joke. She smiled at Trick.

But he didn’t smile back.

Katelyn didn’t know who made the decision, but when they returned to their hotel suite, she had the rollout couch and the two guys shared the bedroom. She was relieved; it had been awkward to sleep in the same room with her grandfather and she didn’t want to repeat the experience. The rollout had been made up with fresh sheets, and as she crawled beneath the covers, she realized she could still smell Trick all around her.
One of the advantages of having heightened senses
, she thought with a fleeting smile. She pulled up the sheets and curled inside them like an embrace.

She knew it made sense that she’d had a meltdown. She was under terrible strain and if anything besides an earthquake could set off her emotions, the Cirque show was it. But if the Fenners had sent someone to spy on her, she hoped they counted it as “normal” that a teenage girl whose mother had died less than three months ago might lose it. In fact, she would seem less normal if she hadn’t. But would Lee Fenner see it that way?

Should she text Justin again? Be an obedient young werewolf? Avoiding trouble certainly made sense. She didn’t want either her grandfather or Trick to suffer just because she didn’t like to bow down to rules she couldn’t understand. Biting her lip in annoyance, she sent a brief message to let him know they were back at the hotel for the night, then she texted Cordelia again. There was no response.

The hotel offered an elaborate brunch in the morning, and everyone ate like pigs. Then they piled into the car. Trick and her grandfather were cautious around her, chatting about inconsequential things. In a weird way, Katelyn was glad Mordecai had seen just how torn up she really was inside. She didn’t think he had understood what he had asked of her, forcing her to move to Wolf Springs. Now he had seen her pain firsthand.

When they arrived back at the cabin, she wondered if she might also be PMSing werewolf style as she felt so unbelievably restless. Wasn’t menstruation linked to the phases of the moon? So would werewolf girls notice it more? After Trick left and her grandfather went to bed, she had to go outside and stand in the fresh air. The Inner Wolf guys were at it, beating their drums, their howls echoing off the mountains. Instead of irritating her, the noise steadied her. Was that what she had done at the Cirque show — let out her inner wolf?

A text came in from Justin:
Are you back?
and feeling daring, she called him.

“Are you all right?” he asked, and she heard the tension in his voice. She felt her throat tighten; she was afraid he knew what had happened.

“Yeah,” she said. “It was great.”

“Any problems?”

Was Trick being there a problem?

“No. It’s all good.”

“Okay. G’night, darlin’,” he said, and disconnected.

She stared at her phone. He had called her “darlin’.” Well, Trick called her “darlin’” too. It was just a Southern thing. And yet she fixated on it — how his voice had sounded all sweet, as if he had really meant it.

Doesn’t matter
, she reminded herself. He was taken, and werewolves fought to the death if a rival tried to move in on their mate. She wasn’t that kind of girl, anyway — one who would try and steal a guy from a girl once he was taken.

He’s not mated
. But from what Cordelia had told her, he might as well be. And she didn’t really want him either, did she? Trick was who she wanted, wasn’t he? Justin’s near irresistibility was just about her wolf hormones; once that all settled down, she’d be okay. Wouldn’t be attracted to him anymore.
Are you kidding?
a voice inside her head persisted.
A guy that hot?

The phone rang, distracting her from her dangerous train of thought. Speak of the devil: Justin again. She took the call.

“I missed you,” he said, and hung up again.

The drums and howls echoed in her ears. She looked down at her phone, and then up at the moon, which had been sliced into shards by the obsidian silhouettes of the trees. Her heart picked up speed.

If she was completely honest, she had missed him, too.

Monday came way too early, and Katelyn felt tired and achy. As she sat through history, which Mrs. Walker from Admin was actually trying to teach, she stared at the back of Gretchen’s head and then at Cordelia’s empty desk. She refused to so much as look at Beau, who seemed to know that he should keep his distance.

The hour from hell was finally over, and it was time for P.E. She slammed through the open door to the gym, and nearly collided with Mike Wright, who frowned at her, then smirked, and looked over her shoulder in disgust. She looked to find Trick close behind her. She didn’t know what he was doing there. It wasn’t his hour for P.E.

Mike’s piggish face stretched into a sneer and he planted himself in front of Trick with crossed arms.

“Where you going, freak?” he demanded.

Trick said nothing. He gave Katelyn a nod and started to walk past Mike as if he weren’t there.

“Hey, I got detention because of you.” Mike flailed at the air, too far away from Trick to actually hit him.

“You got detention because you’re a psychotic moron,” Katelyn said.

Both Trick and Mike stared at her, and she narrowed her eyes at Mike. “A moron, and a bully, and a jerk.”

Mike’s mouth dropped open. Then he lunged at her, as if to scare her, and everything inside her snapped. She lunged forward, too, then brought up her knee and rammed it upward into his crotch. He let out a howl, doubling up, and she slammed her fist against the side of his face.

“I hate you!” she shouted at him.

“You’re gonna die!” Mike shouted back at her. “Just like your trashy slutbuddy—”

She threw herself at him again, only this time Trick grabbed her and dragged her backwards. She struggled against him, getting one arm free. He wrapped his hand around her wrist.

“Katelyn, stop,” he said. “Stop.”

“What’s going on?” The coach stuck his head out of his office, then walked up to the group. Students were coming over, too. In L.A., people who fought on campus were considered bigger losers than stoners, and clearly fighting must also be a big deal at Wolf Springs High.

“Chill,” Trick murmured in Katelyn’s ear. He let go of her and stepped toward Mike. “Just got me some payback, sir,” he said calmly.

“No, it was Ka—” Mike said; then he fell silent as he took stock of the other kids gathering to catch the drama. He clenched his jaw and glared at Trick, as if Trick really had attacked him.

“Okay, you two, come with me now,” the coach said.

“Trick, no,” Katelyn said to him, unable to believe what she’d just done. Trick made as if tipping the brim of an invisible cowboy hat and followed Mike and the coach through the exit.

Katelyn took a step toward them, then hesitated. She had to stay under the radar. She remembered back to her first day of school when Cordelia had lost her temper in gym class and nearly bested Mike at chin-ups before she pulled herself together and pretended to be weaker than she was. At the time, Katelyn had thought Cordelia was pulling some Daisy-Mae routine to look feminine and helpless, and it had irritated her. But now she understood that Cordelia had been hiding just how strong she really was. She had to learn to do the same.

Fresh rage roared through her and she shut her eyes tightly, trying to maintain her composure until it passed. Finally, admitting defeat, she lurched toward the girls’ dressing room, her nerves sizzling like livewires.

“You okay, Kat?” asked Dondi, one of Cordelia’s friends from her cheerleader days. She laid a comforting hand on Katelyn’s shoulder as Paulette, from Katelyn’s art class, looked on. “Did Mike say something to you about Cordelia?”

Katelyn chewed the inside of her cheek. So others had seen her go after him. It would get around. Justin might hear about it.

“Yes,” Katelyn said. “You don’t want me to repeat it.”

“No, of course I don’t,” Dondi said firmly. But her eyes were glittering with excitement. Katelyn knew she wanted all the gory details so she could tell everyone.

Some friend you are
, she thought. “Good,” she said, leaving the locker room and heading for Mr. Hastings’ office.

After Katelyn explained to Mrs. Walker that she had information on the fight that had just taken place, Mrs. Walker told her to go on in. She pushed on Mr. Hastings’ door, to find the principal seated behind his desk, Coach Ambrose leaning against the wall, and Trick and Mike in chairs facing the principal. Trick looked over his shoulder at her and his eyes widened. He gave his head a shake and she just shrugged.

“Well, here she is, so you can apologize to her right now,” Mr. Hastings said to Mike.

“No f’ing way,” Mike blurted.

“Or you can get expelled for defacing school property and starting fights,” the principal said.

“Damn it,” Mike grunted, his face going blotchy and purple. He took a huge sigh. “Okay. Whatever. I shouldn’t have said Cordelia and all them Fenners are inbred cannibals and they probably ate Mr. Henderson for breakfast.”

Katelyn stared at him in shock. Substitute another word for “inbred cannibals” and add her own fearful suspicion about what might have happened to Mr. Henderson, and Mike might have been perilously close to the truth.