Hot Blooded (Wolf Springs Chronicles) - By Nancy Holder Page 0,13

Cordelia four times, but there was no reply. Then she called and let her grandfather know she’d be going over to “study with Cordelia” in the afternoon. When she emerged from the school at the end of the day, Trick fell into step beside her. His cowboy hat was pulled down low over his eyes, giving him a mysterious air.

“Hey, where’ve you been?” he asked, taking her backpack, which she was carrying against her chest. They crossed quickly to the lot.

“I didn’t feel good,” she replied tersely.

“What the hell,” Trick said in a soft, angry tone.

Dead ahead of them, in the lot, Justin had just ridden up on his motorcycle. He stopped and put down his foot. The engine still idling, he reached into a square fiberglass compartment attached to the side of the bike and showed her an extra helmet.

Trick stared at Katelyn incredulously.

“I have to go to Cordelia’s for homework,” she said in a rush. “We’re doing a project.”

“I could have driven you over,” he said.

Justin raced the engine and impatiently held up the helmet. Trick looked from her to Justin and back again, and a purple flush worked its way up his neck. He pursed his lips into a tight frown.

“See you tomorrow.” Katelyn gave him a little wave and Trick shrugged.

Justin flicked up his visor. He didn’t smile. He just waited. Seething, Katelyn walked over to him. She took the helmet as he stowed her backpack in the compartment, then got on the bike and slid her arms around Justin’s waist. As Trick walked past them and headed toward his Mustang, Justin flicked the visor of his helmet back down, gunned the engine, and tore out of the lot.

The ride was long and rough, but Katelyn held on grimly, glad that they weren’t having to talk. Finally they made it to the Fenners’ house.

“Lee’s not here,” Justin announced as the motorcycle rolled down the sharp incline of the driveway. “Truck’s gone.”

Katelyn was relieved. She examined the windows of the large, sprawling house to see if anyone was there. After Saturday night, she felt eyes everywhere, and she couldn’t help being rattled.

The house was an eccentric multi-storied, castle-like building of stone, wood and glass. Trees grew in little courtyards specifically designed to accommodate them. When Katelyn had first seen the rambling house, she had envied Cordelia for all the space she had — something sorely lacking in the McBride cabin — even though the Fenner house was also home to Justin and his older brother, Jesse, Lee Fenner’s nephews; both of their parents were dead. Then she had met Cordelia’s snide, nasty sisters. And her father Lee, who was so bizarre that Katelyn had entertained the thought of suggesting to Cordelia that she move back to Los Angeles with her as fast as humanly possible. Of course, that had been before Katelyn had even known the Fenners were werewolves.

Justin had told Katelyn that the pack alphas had come from Lee Fenner’s direct family line ever since the move to Arkansas in the 1800’s. But Katelyn also knew of Lee Fenner’s recent health problems, his shaky grasp on staying alpha of the pack.

“No one’s challenged him for leadership yet?” she asked Justin as he killed the engine, then waited for her to climb off the motorcycle, pointing again to the left.

“I didn’t say that no one’s challenged him,” Justin replied. He pushed down the kickstand.

Katelyn took off her helmet and studied the house again. She hadn’t done anything to deserve this.

I did this to myself. I drove into the forest alone. I got out of the truck.

No. There was no way she was going to blame herself for this, or allow anyone else to put it on her. She was carrying enough guilt already: guilt at having taken a painkiller for a gymnastics injury on the night of the earthquake in L.A. — the earthquake that had led to her mother’s death.

Justin dismounted and took off his own helmet, shaking out his curly hair, and despite her anger, Katelyn couldn’t help blushing at the remembered sensation of her arms against his six-pack abs on the ride from school. She was a dancer and an athlete, and she appreciated a well-taken-care-of human body.

Don’t try to sugarcoat it. You think he’s hot.

It had taken nearly an hour to get to the Fenner house and she had felt her phone vibrating in her jeans pocket with text after text. From Trick, she was guessing. Hoping, she had to admit. She pulled