Hot Blooded (Wolf Springs Chronicles #2)

by Nancy Holder

  The world was snowy and beautiful, tree branches frosted with ice and sprinkled with powdery white. There were chains on Trick’s tires and the trunk was half open, exposing two old-fashioned wooden sleds secured inside with bungee cords.

  Her grandfather waved from the porch. “Come back in one piece.”

  “I will,” Trick said as he moved to the car.

  “Wasn’t talking to you.”

  Katelyn couldn’t help but snicker as she got into the Mustang.

  A minute later they were on their way. She sat back against the seat and looked out the window at the receding cabin. Silver bullets. In our garage. Were there also werewolf pelts?

  She shuddered hard. Trick must have seen her do it.

  “Yo?” he said.

  “Just thinking.” She looked over, trying to read him.

  “You don’t have to be this nervous,” he said. “Packed snow only leaves minor bruising.”

  “I’m not nervous.”

  He didn’t reply.

  “How well do you know my grandfather?” she asked, trying to keep her tone light.

  Trick raised a brow. “He’s my godfather. I was born in your cabin. And what with my folks being away on business so much, we’ve spent a whole lot of time together over the years.”

  She stared at him, assuming he was joking. She didn’t know anyone who had a godfather. Images of Mafia guys in trench coats rose in her mind. “C’mon.”

  He shrugged. “I’m serious. My middle name is Mordecai.”

  She gaped at him, thrown, not sure what to do with the new information. Aware of how little she really knew about Trick. And now she realized it, he rarely mentioned his parents. She knew they were rich, very rich — but they were also very busy, flying all over the country for his dad’s design business — and she had been amazed when going to Trick’s place for a party to discover that he had his own building on their property. “How come I didn’t know this?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I thought you did know.” He smiled at her. “We’re practically related. But luckily, not technically.” He cocked his head. “Does it bother you for some reason?”

  “No,” she said quickly. “Why would it?”

  “You tell me.” He winked at her. “Because, hello? It is bothering you. It’s cool, Katelyn. We share no common genes. Our offspring will be healthy.”

  She made a show of sputtering with indignation and gently punching his shoulder. But that was all it was, a show. Inside, she was working things out. That helped explain why he came over all the time, and all the conversations they’d had on the porch. And why her grandfather trusted him to take care of Katelyn.

  If only my grandfather knew that I got bitten by a werewolf on Trick’s watch, she thought. After he hid out in his car at Sam’s party and told me to go away.

  Then they were driving on a road she’d never been on before, climbing toward the mountaintops. Snow flurries fluttered against the windshield, and glittered in the sunshine.

  “You’re having so many private conversations you could be schizophrenic,” he drawled.

  She was saved from having to answer as Trick guided the car to the side of the road and killed the engine. Back in California they wouldn’t have just stopped wherever it struck their fancy. There would be a formal park, with a blacktop lot for the car, and drinking fountains and signs.

  He opened the door and put on his cowboy hat. As he went around in front of the Mustang, he held up his hand, signaling for her to wait in the car, then when he got to her side of the vehicle, he stomped his boots hard and she realized he was tamping down the snow for her. Satisfied, he opened the car and held out his hand.

  She took it, and as he helped her out he grabbed a handful of slushy snow from the roof of the car and slid it down her back. She shrieked and batted at him, laughing as he trotted backwards. He yanked his cowboy hat off and used it as a shield as she gathered up snow with both hands and flung it at him. He jockeyed back and forth, taunting her, guffawing as she kicked snow at him, then headed straight for him.

  “Crazy girl on the loose!” he cried, easily sidestepping her.

  “Who are you calling crazy?” she demanded as she wheeled around for another attack. She started to put on a burst of speed, then reined herself in as she remembered that she couldn’t draw attention to her enhanced abilities.

  Trick raced up a hill, cackling in triumph. Then, as she pretended to struggle to catch up with him, he hung a U-turn, soaring back down on the other side of a stand of evergreens. She tried to get to him, but he was too fast. He reached the car and unfastened the sleds, loping back to meet her as he trailed them behind on the ground.

  Panting, she fell in beside him. He reached in his jacket and handed her a pair of black waterproof gloves.

  “Forgot to bring you some,” he said. “Use mine.”

  “Oh, no, I’m not—” She was about to tell him that she wasn’t cold. Just this morning, she’d been very chilly in the cabin. But now, she was just fine. Of course, she should be freezing, plus it was so sweet of him. “Thank you.” She put the gloves on, which were miles too big for her hands, and wiggled her fingers at him.

  At the top of the hill, he set the sleds down side by side. They were made of wood standing on wicked-looking curved blades to cut through ice and snow. The incline sheered downward, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth.

  “You’re not scared, are you?” he asked.

  She scoffed. “Preposterous,” she said.

  “That’s a mighty big word, little lady,” he drawled. “Care to back it up with some runs down the mountain?”

  “Mountain, hah. This is a bunny slope.” She cocked her head. “Do you sit down or lie down?”

  “Whatever it takes. Not a lot of rules in sledding.”

  He sat on his sled, then chuckled as she hesitantly copied him. She picked up a loop of rope.

  “That’s how you steer. Pull this way, you go to the left.”

  She pulled on the rope, then jerked her head over at him. “Don’t, like, give me a push to get started or anything, okay?”

  “Don’t think that’s how it works with you,” he teased. Then he dug his snow boots into the whiteness and pushed off, and began to angle down. Watching him, she decided it didn’t look so bad, and did the same.

  And she went fast, very fast; she left silver bullets and the Hellhound and the Fenners behind as she screamed with a combination of alarm and exhilaration. The sled picked up even more speed, and Trick shouted out, “Whoa, whoa, Katelyn!”

  Faster.

  “You’re on ice!” he bellowed. “Just steer straight!”

  She shrieked, laughing, realizing she was going to fly past him. How the heck was she going to stop?

  He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Lean backward. Try to drag your feet!”

  Instead she reflexively yanked on the rope, way too hard. The sled zoomed sharply to the right and Katelyn tumbled off, face first, into the snow. She burst into a cascade of relieved guffaws, laughing so hard she couldn’t move.

  “Oh, my God,” Trick said, stricken.

  She kept laughing, helplessly, until he reached her and cautiously rolled her onto her back. All she could see were his green eyes as he bent over her and wiped the snow off her face.

  “Are you okay? Are you all right?” he demanded.

  She nodded, still laughing. “Ice on my side of the hill, huh? How convenient—”

  Trick slid his hands under her neck and upper back, lifting her from the snow, and kissed her. His lips pressed against hers and he gasped, then he eased his tongue into her mouth. Pleasurable explosions burst at the small of her back and fanned out everywhere — her toes, her cheeks, the top of her head. She couldn’t believe how good it felt, but it went beyond physical sensation to a sweet, deep joy. This was Trick, smart and quirky and yes, scary and unpredictable, but it was Trick. She hadn’t kissed him in almost a month, and she had missed him, missed this. So much.
r />   Trick’s breath was hot against her cheek, her earlobe. He kissed her closed eyes, returning again and again to her mouth. He was raising her head, shoulders, and upper back above the snow, cradling her, holding her as if she were the most precious, adored girl in the world. She put her arms around his neck, clinging to him, never, ever wanting to stop kissing him.

  He covered her face with kisses, then whispered her name into her ear over and over: “Katelyn, Katelyn.”

  And there was something about his voice that stopped her. Something familiar, and dangerous. Something that reminded her that when she was with Justin, she wanted him to kiss her like this, too. It made her feel two-faced and she understood how it would hurt Trick if he knew. And even though she knew the attraction to Justin was only physical — something to do with the wolf part in her reacting to the wolf in him — it still made her feel ashamed.

  I’m not part of Trick’s world anymore. I’m not human. And my grandfather has silver bullets in his garage.

  “Trick,” she protested, turning her face.

  He didn’t answer, just craned his head and kissed her mouth again. Her lips parted and her head fell back. It felt so good. And so right.

  I’m not human.

  “Trick, please.” She pushed gently at him, feeling his heartbeat beneath her hand, and then she said, “No.”

  He stopped immediately. His breathing shallow, he cradled her head and laid his cheek against her forehead. Then, with a sigh, he pulled her up to her feet. His face was full of color; his cheeks were red and his lips were slightly swollen from their kisses. And his pupils were so dilated they almost looked black.

  If only she could explain. But she couldn’t.

  As if he could read her mind, he cupped her chin and chastely brushed his lips against hers. Then he took her gloved hand in his and splayed it over his heart, which was racing so fast she couldn’t count the beats.

  “No’s the magic word,” he said. “I want you, Kat. But it’s not just physical — I’m not some kind of animal.”

  But I am, she thought. Part of her wanted to take back the no. But she had to sort everything out.

  “And I won’t just be friends,” he added. “I can’t be your best androgynous pal in the friend zone while you sample what Wolf Springs has to offer.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything, darlin’. Not even an explanation. But if I keep kissing you, you will. That’s how I’ll see it.”

  “Trick,” she said, and he cocked his head, the sun glistening on his high cheekbones. He was so amazing looking. Check, beyond that, he was amazing.

  “When — if — you’re ever ready, you know how to let me know.”

  Shaken, she lowered her gaze. He began walking away toward the car. All too soon, their morning together was at an end. She was so sad. It had felt like a reprieve.

  Then something hard and wet smacked the back of her head. A snowball. She whirled around to find him bent over, already packing another one.

  As fast as she could, she grabbed two handfuls of snow and smacked them together. There was no snowball, only an explosion of icy crystals. She shrieked, defenseless, as Trick’s second snowball hit her on the shoulder. As she yelled in protest, he picked her up and carried her to her sled, plopped her on it, and grabbed the rope. He began to drag her up the hill.

  “No!” she cried. He kept pulling. “Trick, I said no!”

  “It’s all in the context, darlin’,” he said, and kept going.

  “Fine. Wear yourself out.” She dug her heels into the snow to add to the drag. He kept pulling and she kept dragging. Then she leaped up and yanked on the rope he held so tightly, throwing him off balance. As he fell, she took off running down the hill, arms flailing as she laughed in triumph.

  She tried to keep herself from running flat out, but her competitive streak got the best of her. Stumbling over her boots, she put on a burst of speed, heading for a copse of trees at the slope’s edge. Her laughter echoed against the hill. She was giddy. It felt so good to put everything on a shelf and just be in the moment — to be a kid, to flirt with a hot guy who was into her. It was exactly what she needed to burn off all the tension.

  “I’m coming for you!” Trick bellowed behind her. “Better run, girl!”

  She burst into the trees and tore through them, laughing like a crazy person. Then she came to a rise before the next hill and stopped to catch her breath. As she panted, she looked back over her shoulder, but Trick’s approach was hidden by the trees. Then she looked down the next hill, planning her escape.

  About a hundred feet away, something dark was lying on the ground. As Katelyn studied it, a funny feeling tapped at the base of her skull and lifted her hair from her neck. She began to run toward it. It was a person.

  “Hey!” she cried. “Hey, are you okay?”

  As if in answer, a bird trilled. She heard something behind her crashing through the trees. She didn’t wait for Trick.

  It was a man. Or rather, what was left of him.

  12

  Katelyn stared down at the man’s body. His eyes gaped wide in shock, his mouth an O of horror, pain. And his chest and stomach . . .

  Katelyn covered her mouth with both hands as she fell to her knees beside him. The hunter-green parka he wore was soaked with blood and . . . and there were things . . . pieces.

  “Mister?” she said, reaching a shaking hand toward him. His eyes didn’t blink; the cavern that had been his chest didn’t rise and fall. She took a deep breath and pressed her fingertips against his neck. His skin was ice cold. Recoiling, she pulled away for a moment and then forced herself to take another deep breath as she wondered how long he’d been dead. She clasped his wrist. Clammy flesh did not give way; it was frozen.

  I’m touching a dead person.

  The crevices in his chest revealed something white protruding from mangled piles of bloody, dark objects. His ribs. On his parka, an embroidered patch bore the emblem of a wolf’s paw. The writing said The Inner Wolf Center, Wolf Springs, Arkansas.

  “Oh, my God,” Trick said above and behind her. Then he moved past, bending over the man, checking his pulse the same way she had. She watched numbly, shaking all over. Then she scooted away and got to her feet. “Call 911,” Trick said, pulling his phone out of his pants pocket and handing it to her. “God, there’s so much blood.”

  There was. The man lay sprawled on an incline, and the blood had pooled beneath him, then run down on the side farthest from Katelyn. A river of blood had gushed out of him, then frozen.

  His left knee was bent backwards. And his left foot . . .

  His foot was missing.

  “Trick,” she said wildly, but she couldn’t make herself say anything but his name.

  “Here,” Trick said, taking the phone from her. He looked down and swore. “No service. Did you bring your cell? Katelyn?”

  Part of her couldn’t stop scanning the area, searching for his foot. The other part of her was praying she wouldn’t see it. When her mother had died, there had only been ashes. And memories.

  I’m looking for a foot.

  She took off the jacket Trick had lent her and put it over the man’s face. Trick turned on his heel and headed up toward the car. Wincing, Katelyn moved away awkwardly from the dead man, crossing her arms over her chest. Her breath came in labored little gasps. After a couple of minutes, when she realized Trick hadn’t returned, she backed away from the man, feeling irrationally guilty for leaving his side, then pushed through the trees. She hadn’t wanted to shout for Trick. Didn’t want to disturb the — the body.

  Trick was standing on top of the hill beside his sled, her phone to his ear. Then he saw her, picked up the sled when it would have been easier to let it slide down, and came over.

  “Yours doesn’t work, either. Let’s go to the cabin.” He looked past her and she turned quickly, half expecting to see the man stumbling out of the trees. Trick chewed the inside of his cheek as if debating some
thing.

  “Do you want the jacket?” she asked him, feeling ill.

  “Oh, girl,” he said mournfully, reaching out and holding her against his chest. “I just don’t like leaving him there.”

  “I know what you mean.” She closed her eyes tightly, losing herself in his warmth.

  “What if it comes back?” he said.

  “What comes back?”

  “The animal that killed him.”

  She let out a sob. Please, let it be just an animal.

  They rushed back together to the Mustang, and drove back in taut silence, Katelyn checking both their phones for service. Even though Trick drove with a seeming disregard for safety, it took forever to get to the cabin. To Katelyn’s shock, Sergeant Lewis’s squad car was already parked behind her grandfather’s battered blue truck.

  “Did we get through?” she asked.

  “Oh, God,” Trick whispered, stricken. The wheels had barely stopped rolling before he and Katelyn were running up the steps and bursting into the cabin.

  Her grandfather and Sergeant Lewis were at the kitchen table, bent over some objects covered with what appeared to be wet sawdust, spread out on a layer of plastic trash bags. Beyond the wet, muddy odor, she detected the unmistakable smell of silver. She froze.

  “Sergeant Lewis found some of our things that were taken in the break-in,” her grandfather said, looking up at her. “Dumped in the Wolf Springs bog.” Then he looked at her again. “Katie?”

  “We found a man,” she blurted. Trick came up beside her and put his arm around her waist. “Dead.”

  Sergeant Lewis was instantly all business. “Where? Can you show me?”

  “The sledding hill,” Trick answered, then launched into a detailed explanation of how Katelyn had found him, and that there was nothing they could do to help him.

  “Katelyn put a jacket over his eyes,” Trick said faintly.

  “I think you’re going into shock, son,” Katelyn’s grandfather said. “Katie, get him some water.”

  But Trick was rushing after Sergeant Lewis, who was already halfway to the door with a big radiophone to his ear. Her grandfather grabbed his rifle from the wall rack. “Stay in the house,” he told Katelyn. “Don’t go outside.”