Hot Blooded (Wolf Springs Chronicles) - By Nancy Holder Page 0,82

wasn’t missing anything. She finally put it down again and went to get herself some water. As she padded into the kitchen, goose bumps broke over her body.

This time when she saw Justin staring in the kitchen window, she managed not to act surprised. She went out the back door, slipping into her shoes, and headed with him into the trees. She rubbed her arms.

“You shouldn’t be cold,” he said with a frown.

“All that stuff comes and goes,” she said, unwilling to tell him that she hadn’t been feeling the cold, but had been remembering her brush with a bullet.

Finally he stopped walking and she leaned against a tree.

“What?” she asked when he didn’t speak.

“Kat,” he said, placing his fingers over her lips. “Thanksgiving dinner was a nightmare. He should never have invited your grandfather over. And then when he started to change at the table . . .”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “We watched that damn train wreck and we couldn’t do anything about it. But this behavior endangered the pack. And, frankly, it endangered you.” His voice softened and he cocked his head, studying her. “And that’s not something I want to go through again.”

She agreed with everything he was saying. It had been a terrible decision to invite them over.

“Does that mean you’re going to challenge him?” she asked him.

Ashen-faced, he didn’t answer.

She could almost hear questions buzzing around her head like wasps. Had he discussed challenging Lee Fenner with Lucy? How would he do it? Would they fight as wolves? What if Justin lost?

“Settle down, darlin’,” he murmured. “You’re not involved.”

“I’m not stupid, Justin,” she retorted. “Don’t treat me like I am.”

“Fair enough.” He reached out a hand, and pressed his fingertips against her cheek. Then he jerked back and stuffed his hand in his pocket. “You’ve got to stay well away from me,” he reminded her, cocking his head, staring at her hungrily. “Well away.”

She scowled at him. “I did not touch you.”

“I know.” He sighed. “God, I hate this.”

Finally, very quietly, he murmured, “I’m hoping it won’t come to that. I’m hoping he’ll just pick me.” He pressed his fingertips against the bridge of his nose. “Oh, God, Kat. There is nothing in me that wants to challenge him. But how can I let this go on?”

She didn’t say anything. After a minute he seemed to pull himself together. He looked at her intently. “You’ve kept the secret about your immunity to silver, right?”

“Yes.”

“You haven’t told anyone?”

“No, of course not. Who would I tell?”

He nodded. “We’re going to get through this. It’s going to be okay. I promise you.”

He leaned down and kissed her cheek and then disappeared into the night.

Katelyn hurried back to the porch and made it inside without anyone seeing her or shooting at her. She stood in the kitchen for several minutes, staring out the window into the darkness.

She was immune to silver and in the garage were a whole lot of silver bullets, enough to take down the entire pack. Certainly enough to take down Mr. Fenner. She felt a twinge of guilt for not having told Justin about them.

Grabbing a flashlight, she headed back outside and crept into the garage to investigate the box with the ammo case in it. She opened it again and picked up one of the bullets. If she kept it, would her grandfather notice? She debated for a long time, and finally decided to leave them exactly as she had found them.

Then she continued her systematic search through the other boxes in the garage, half expecting to find a special rifle or handgun made to fire silver bullets. But she found nothing to tie the silver bullets to anything else. The other boxes were filled with old pots and pans, clothes, and a lot of books and papers from Dr. Mordecai McBride’s years as a university professor. Sighing, she closed one box and opened another. She didn’t know how to tell a gun that shot silver bullets from a regular one, anyway. She didn’t even know if there was a difference.

She was getting tired. One more box and then she’d give up for the night. She opened up the next box and discovered that it was full of old pictures, many of them on thick cardboard. She picked up a handful and scrutinized them by flashlight, then smiled, charmed. They were of her grandfather and a young woman with her father’s dimpled chin and long, straight nose. This had to