“awesome.” She smiled and nodded along. Abel lurked in the backseat of the BMW like an angry shadow.
“Need someone to call a tow truck for your car, man?” Tate asked, pausing in the middle of his story to glance at Abel in the rearview mirror.
“We’ll take care of it. Thanks,” Rylie said.
He dropped them off and left again. Abel and Rylie sat on the front step of the house without talking.
She was too embarrassed to go inside, like she had done something shameful—even though nothing happened. She hadn’t spoken to Levi Riese, much less tried to kill him. But she felt ashamed and dirty.
After working so hard to keep her wolf under control, all it took to get her mind shifting between moons was a dead rabbit and a gun with no bullets.
“Don’t tell Seth,” Abel said.
Rylie barked out a laugh. “I don’t even know what I’m not going to tell him. That you’re hunting behind his back? Or that you’re hunting more like a werewolf than a human?”
“Any of it. Don’t tell him.”
They stared at each other silently. It was a moment they had shared too often over the last few weeks—a wordless exchange where they evaluated each other, as though trying to decide who was alpha.
Rylie spoke first this time. “You’re supposed to be cured. Maybe if you tell Seth—”
He got to his feet. Abel was almost a foot taller than Rylie when they were both standing, so when she was sitting, he cut an imposing figure. “Don’t forget I’m still a hunter, and you’re still a werewolf.”
“That threat doesn’t mean anything anymore. If you were going to kill me, you would have already done it.” He spun and jumped in the Chevelle. Before he could shut the door, Rylie’s mouth opened again. She didn’t mean to say what she was thinking, but she did. “I love Seth.”
He stopped. “So?”
“So that means you might be my brother someday. If something is wrong with you, we can figure it out. All three of us. Together.”
Abel slammed his door. The Chevelle’s engine roared to life, and he tore down the hill.
Rylie’s heart ached as she watched him go.
Eight
The Talk
When Rylie finally slept, she might as well have died for all that she was aware of the outside world. Her eyes shut as soon as she touched the pillow. Overwhelming darkness consumed her.
Dreams flickered at the edges of her mind. She had four legs and a mouth filled with blood.
Was it hers? Or did it belong to a fawn in a distant forest that had been dead for months?
A hand touched her. She jolted to consciousness, and for an instant, she thought Abel was sitting on the edge of her bed. She was so angry to see him that she almost snapped. Her lip peeled back with a growl.
But both sides of his face were whole and unscarred.
“Oh my God, Seth.” She flopped back onto the bed. “Don’t scare me like that!”
“Sorry.” He bent to kiss her, but Rylie dragged her pillow over her face. Her morning breath could have scared any number of vicious werewolves away.
“How did you get in?” she mumbled into the pillowcase.
“The door. How else?”
Seth tried to uncover her head, but she clamped her hands tight on the pillow.
“Did you break the lock?”
He laughed. “Gwyn let me in. It’s almost eight.”
So she had slept in. She never slept in past five anymore. But Abel’s little “hunt” meant she had gotten less than four hours of sleep, and trying to open her eyes made it feel like her eyelids were being dragged off her face.
Seth finally wrenched the pillow out of her arms, threw it across the room, and pounced. Rylie shrieked.
He pinned her to the bed, his hands pressing her wrists against the mattress, and then he was kissing her and Rylie had no idea who or what she was. He tasted warm and delicious with a hint of sugar. He’d already been into the energy drinks and protein bars. Breakfast of champions.
“Your breath is horrible,” he said with a chuckle against her cheek.
She smacked her other
“Need someone to call a tow truck for your car, man?” Tate asked, pausing in the middle of his story to glance at Abel in the rearview mirror.
“We’ll take care of it. Thanks,” Rylie said.
He dropped them off and left again. Abel and Rylie sat on the front step of the house without talking.
She was too embarrassed to go inside, like she had done something shameful—even though nothing happened. She hadn’t spoken to Levi Riese, much less tried to kill him. But she felt ashamed and dirty.
After working so hard to keep her wolf under control, all it took to get her mind shifting between moons was a dead rabbit and a gun with no bullets.
“Don’t tell Seth,” Abel said.
Rylie barked out a laugh. “I don’t even know what I’m not going to tell him. That you’re hunting behind his back? Or that you’re hunting more like a werewolf than a human?”
“Any of it. Don’t tell him.”
They stared at each other silently. It was a moment they had shared too often over the last few weeks—a wordless exchange where they evaluated each other, as though trying to decide who was alpha.
Rylie spoke first this time. “You’re supposed to be cured. Maybe if you tell Seth—”
He got to his feet. Abel was almost a foot taller than Rylie when they were both standing, so when she was sitting, he cut an imposing figure. “Don’t forget I’m still a hunter, and you’re still a werewolf.”
“That threat doesn’t mean anything anymore. If you were going to kill me, you would have already done it.” He spun and jumped in the Chevelle. Before he could shut the door, Rylie’s mouth opened again. She didn’t mean to say what she was thinking, but she did. “I love Seth.”
He stopped. “So?”
“So that means you might be my brother someday. If something is wrong with you, we can figure it out. All three of us. Together.”
Abel slammed his door. The Chevelle’s engine roared to life, and he tore down the hill.
Rylie’s heart ached as she watched him go.
Eight
The Talk
When Rylie finally slept, she might as well have died for all that she was aware of the outside world. Her eyes shut as soon as she touched the pillow. Overwhelming darkness consumed her.
Dreams flickered at the edges of her mind. She had four legs and a mouth filled with blood.
Was it hers? Or did it belong to a fawn in a distant forest that had been dead for months?
A hand touched her. She jolted to consciousness, and for an instant, she thought Abel was sitting on the edge of her bed. She was so angry to see him that she almost snapped. Her lip peeled back with a growl.
But both sides of his face were whole and unscarred.
“Oh my God, Seth.” She flopped back onto the bed. “Don’t scare me like that!”
“Sorry.” He bent to kiss her, but Rylie dragged her pillow over her face. Her morning breath could have scared any number of vicious werewolves away.
“How did you get in?” she mumbled into the pillowcase.
“The door. How else?”
Seth tried to uncover her head, but she clamped her hands tight on the pillow.
“Did you break the lock?”
He laughed. “Gwyn let me in. It’s almost eight.”
So she had slept in. She never slept in past five anymore. But Abel’s little “hunt” meant she had gotten less than four hours of sleep, and trying to open her eyes made it feel like her eyelids were being dragged off her face.
Seth finally wrenched the pillow out of her arms, threw it across the room, and pounced. Rylie shrieked.
He pinned her to the bed, his hands pressing her wrists against the mattress, and then he was kissing her and Rylie had no idea who or what she was. He tasted warm and delicious with a hint of sugar. He’d already been into the energy drinks and protein bars. Breakfast of champions.
“Your breath is horrible,” he said with a chuckle against her cheek.
She smacked her other
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