Hot Blooded (Wolf Springs Chronicles) - By Nancy Holder Page 0,89

she cared about was stopping him from hurting anyone again.

He saw her. Gave her a sexy smile. “What do you want, sweet—”

She balled up her fist and rammed it against his pig nose. She heard a satisfying crunch sound even as pain radiated up her arm. As he reeled, blood spurted from his nostrils and she could smell it, sharp and clear and it called to the wolf deep inside.

She growled and lunged closer. She felt hands grabbing at her, dragging her back, and she turned and snapped, barely missing biting Trick’s hand as he jerked it away from her. She saw the surprise in his eyes and it penetrated the growing fog in her brain.

Don’t bite him.

“You bitch!” Mike shouted, holding his nose. “I am gonna kill you!”

She had almost bitten Trick. Stunned, Katelyn stopped struggling and let him pull her away, beginning to shake as the adrenaline dissipated as suddenly as it had come. She could hear Mike screaming and swearing behind her, but he wasn’t her problem anymore.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to Trick. “So, so sorry.”

He shook his head. “Look, it’s fine. Just come here with me.”

She came out of her daze as he was leading her into a small park. The place was deserted. It was cold enough that she could see her breath. Framed by glowering clouds, Trick was watching her closely. Then he led her over to one of the swings and sat her down on it.

“Easy there, slugger,” he said.

She wrapped her hands around the icy chains and tried to force herself to just breathe in, deep and easy. After a moment Trick wrapped his hands around hers. They were warm and strong.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“I’m right here,” he said.

She leaned her head against his chest, breathing him in. After a minute he circled behind her and gave the swing a little push. She lifted her feet off the ground and he gave her another push.

“Dang,” he said after a minute. “I’d hate to see what would happen to him if he trashed your car.”

She smiled wanly. He pushed her again. Without thinking, she pumped her legs.

“How high do you want to go?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“I want to fly.”

And he pushed so hard she nearly fell off the swing, but she kept her balance and swung her legs back. He kept pushing and she kept swinging, shifting her weight back and forth, building up speed and momentum. She flew toward the sky and then fell back to earth over and over.

The rush of wind was exhilarating and she felt like her old self. She could fly. She could escape all the violence and stupidity of Wolf Springs. And she could do it with Trick.

At the height of the arc she let go, launching herself into the air. For a moment she hung, weightless, and it was everything she had ever dreamed it could be. Then she began to fall. She could hear Trick yelling, but she would show him what it was really like to fly. She did a back flip and prepared to land on her feet as the ground came rushing up to meet her. She could do it. She was agile as a cat and strong as a werewolf.

And then she saw Trick beneath her, arms outstretched. She twisted at the last moment so she would land in his arms, parallel to the ground. He caught her and dropped to one knee. She looked up at him and there were too many emotions colliding in his dilated eyes.

“How was that?” she asked, breathless.

“You shouldn’t scare me like that.”

She tilted her head sideways and gave him a little grin. “Why not?”

He didn’t smile back. “Because I’m crazy about you,” he said simply.

The words hung between them in the cold air, shimmering, sparkling.

“I’m crazy about you, too.” Her heart was soaring and breaking at the same time. There was a terrible kind of agony admitting it out loud, but there was also the most wonderful sense of release, as if the words had been bottled up for so long that they had just exploded out of her.

“I know things have been crazy. That I’ve been . . . there’s something wrong with me,” he said, dropping his voice down to a whisper.

“There’s something wrong with me, too,” she whispered back.

They contemplated each other warily, hopefully, as if each one was daring the other to go first. To confess. To reveal.

“You’re seventeen. Life can’t be this tangled up for you,” he