Dirty Blood

by Heather Hildenbrand

  I looked back at Fee, apologetically. “Look, I appreciate the offer, but I need some time. This is all a little too much, too fast. Sorry.”

  “I understand,” Fee assured me. And I could tell by the way she looked at me that she really did. “Let’s get back out there, shall we?”

  I hefted the book up and tucked it underneath my arm as I followed her out. Fee locked the room again and we made our way back to the living room.

  “Well?” Jack boomed.

  Fee answered for me. “She needs time.”

  Jack nodded but I could see his disappointment. “Of course.”

  Wes just shook his head, like he’d given up arguing.

  I gathered my jacket around me, preparing to leave. I still needed to make it back before my mom.

  Fee stopped me at the door and squeezed my arm. “Take some time and let it all sink in. Even if you decide not to train, Jack and I are here if you need anything.”

  “Thanks,” I said, managing a smile.

 

  “They were really nice,” I said when Wes and I were in the car. He didn’t answer but I purposely ignored his lack of response; I told myself it was just normal behavior for him and I pressed on. “I’m surprised, though. Fee made it sound like all Werewolves are bloodthirsty killers and will attack me on sight. Yet, you three haven’t tried to hurt me at all. If anything, you’ve helped more than you needed to.”

  “Not all Werewolves are like us,” he said.

  Not as detailed an explanation as I’d been hoping for but better than nothing. “How do you know them?”

  “They raised me after my parents died.”

  “Oh. I didn’t know. I’m sorry. How did they die?”

  He hesitated. “Werewolves.”

  His lips pressed into a hard line and a muscle in his jaw flexed. There was malice in that one word, and disgust, and I finally understood his earlier comment. “That’s what you meant by different sides?”

  “Yes.”

  Finally, I felt like I was getting somewhere. “Does this have anything to do with that cause Jack mentioned?”

  “Forget about that, okay? It’s not for you.”

  “Shouldn’t that be up to me, just like choosing whichever side I want to be on?”

  He gave me a hard look. “No.”

  I huffed in frustration. The boy was a walking contradiction. I tried another tactic. “What’s your favorite color?”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “Why?”

  “Because you want me to choose a side but you still haven’t told me enough to make me decide whether I can trust you.”

  “I’ve told you plenty.”

  I shook my head. “No, Jack and Fee told me plenty. You’ve told me nothing.” I saw he was about to argue and continued. “Giving me my memories back doesn’t count. They were already mine.”

  “Okay, but how does knowing my favorite color help you trust me?”

  “You can tell a lot by a person’s favorite color,” I insisted. “For instance, mine is blue because I love the ocean and the sky.”

  “Okay, then, green.” He raised a brow. “What do you get from that?”

  “Well, could be for money, but I don’t think so,” I mused. “The forest, I think.”

  “Could be for envy, too, you know,” he said, his voice taking on a teasing quality that surprised and confused me. Just moments ago he’d been clipped and silent, to the point of rude.

  “You seem in a better mood,” I said carefully.

  Wes made the turn into my neighborhood and paused at the stop sign before answering. “Tara, it’s impossible to be in a bad mood around you.”

  I looked back at him in surprise, unsure of what to say. It was easily the nicest thing he’d said to me since we’d met. “Thanks?” His lips twitched, making me wish I knew the meaning behind his cryptic compliment. “Are you always so hard to read?” I asked, finally.

  “Are you always this difficult about taking compliments?”

  “I’m still trying to figure out if it was one.”

  “It was.”

  Something about the way he said those two words made my face and arms heat up. The air in the car thickened into something almost tangible and I remembered what he’d said to Jack, about the magnet. It was definitely happening now, a pull or polarity between us. It was unnerving and enjoyable all at the same time, and I shifted in my seat, trying to get comfortable in my own skin. I wondered if he felt it too, but when I glanced over, his brows were arched down, in either deep thought or confusion.

  In much less time than it would’ve taken a normal person—or normal car—we pulled up in front of my house, and he cut the engine. I didn’t wait for him to come around and open my door. I needed a minute to clear my head, but the blast of cold air that greeted me when I stepped out was sadly not enough, though at least I could breathe easier out here in the chilly open space of my front yard. I was pretty sure—unless Werewolf customs were totally different—that Wes had just been flirting with me. The problem was that I’d felt myself react to it. My pulse raced and my stomach fluttered. I felt like one look at my face and he’d know all those things. So I made sure to stay ahead of him as he followed me to the door. I fumbled with the key, ridiculously nervous all of a sudden. Wes waited patiently without comment as I finally slid the lock aside and wrestled the key out again. When I couldn’t avoid it any longer, I turned to him.

  “I don’t really know what to say for everything you’ve done, but thanks,” I told him.

  “Wow, sounds like a brush-off.”

  “No!” My reply came out a little more forceful than I’d intended, and then I felt my face go red at the humor I spotted in his expression; he’d only been joking. “I meant, you didn’t have to do all this, and I appreciate it.”

  He reached out, like he was about to take my hand, and then stopped. Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the ground. “Tara, there’s something-”

  A very nearby car door slammed shut and Wes broke off. We both looked over at the same time and I groaned at the figure fast approaching my doorstep. Beside me, I could feel the tension in Wes as he eyed our visitor suspiciously.

  “George,” I called with fake calm, mostly so Wes would realize he wasn’t a threat. I didn’t really feel him relax, though.

  “Hey, babe.” George’s smile faltered at the sight of Wes and his eyes narrowed slightly.

  I looked back at George, desperately trying to figure out how to explain this in a way that didn’t involve the truth. “George, Wes. Wes, George.” I gestured back and forth between them and paused. Neither spoke. Wes watched George intensely. It wasn’t menacing, necessarily, but it held a challenge that I didn’t like. George eyed Wes back and sort of grunted a hello at him. I felt my patience thinning at their show of testosterone. “George, what are you doing here?”

  He finally tore his eyes from Wes’s, breaking whatever macho stare-down they were locked in and looked back at me. “I figured since you were out sick, I’d come over and see if you needed anything. Maybe take care of you.” His expression hardened a little. “But it looks like maybe you’re not so sick after all.”

  “I was sick, George. I mean, I am sick.”

  George ignored me. His eyes swung back over to Wes. “Who are you, anyway?”

  I tensed. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Wes standing still as a statue.

  “I’m a friend,” Wes answered, finally. His tone was not very friendly, however.

  George’s eyes narrowed even further. “I know all of Tara’s friends and I don’t know you.”

  “Then I guess you don’t know all of Tara’s friends,” Wes replied.

  I exhaled loudly, hoping to let it be known how little patience I had left for all of this. “George, Wes is a friend from out of town. I didn’t know he was coming. Either way, it’s none of your business. You and I are not together anymore.”

  It seemed to take
George a minute to accept this, but eventually, he seemed to get it. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and mumbled something about still caring about me. He shot a glance at Wes again and then stepped over and planted a very deliberate kiss on my cheek. “I’ll see you, Tay,” he said and headed to his car. I watched him go, wondering whose benefit the kiss had been for: mine or Wes’s.

  I waited until George had driven off before whirling at Wes. “What was that?” I hissed.

  His eyes were sparkling. “What was what?”

  “You were baiting him.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t like him very much.”

  I gave him a look.

  “Your mom will be home soon,” he said.

  “Crap. I forgot about that. You better get going.” I hesitated and then added, “Will I see you again?”

  He pulled a small card out of his pocket and handed it to me. “Here, take this. It’s mine and Jack’s numbers. Just in case.”

  “Thanks, I guess I’ll … see you around,” I said, hoping to mask my biting disappointment. His lips curved up on one side. “Probably.”

  Then he left.

  ~ 7 ~