Blood and Chocolate by Annette Curtis Klause Page B

going to be sick.”
    She dove onto her bed, rolled to the floor, and spidered out of the room on knuckles and toes. She reached the bathroom at the end of the hall and slammed the door behind her. She shot the bolt home.
    Outside the window the swollen moon leered at her over the tops of the trees.
    She shuddered with pain, and tears outlined her downy face. She had never known a time when she hadn’t wanted the change, hadn’t enjoyed the change, but now she was nauseated from holding it back. He couldn’t see her like this. She couldn’t betray her people.
    There was a gentle tapping on the bathroom door. “Are you all right?”
    She tried to say
Yes, I am,
but her jaw was wrong for speaking and the words came out a muffled growl. Why was he making this beautiful gift seem dirty?
    â€œWell, if you’re sure you’ll be okay…”
    â€œHhhhhhmmmmmmmmm!” she moaned, hoping it sounded like an affirmative. Her arms lengthened, her muscles bulged, and she tore at her clothes as her pelt rippled over her flesh. She had never had to hide away before. What a crime to trap her beautiful body. It was all his fault.
    â€œLook, like, give me a call tomorrow and let me know how you are. Hope you feel better.”
    When she was sure he had gone, Vivian quietly pulled back the bolt with short, furred fingers. She reached for the doorknob.
    But what if I’m like Axel?
she thought.
What if I smell him as prey when I’m in fur?
    She clenched her hand, withdrew her shaking fist, and curled into a tight, trembling ball on the bathroom floor.
I won’t go out,
she promised.
I won’t go out.
If she did, she might follow him and stalk him to his lair.
    She shuddered into her final shape, raised her muzzle, and howled frustration at the porcelain tile. Her voice echoed about her like a curse.
    Â 
    Vivian blinked her eyes in the early-morning sun. The sound of a truck door slamming had awakened her. Esmé and Rudy were back. She sneezed, sending dust mice scurrying, and crawled, pink and naked, out from under the bed, where she’d spent most of the night. She was drained and aching from clenching her body tight against its needs.
    I’ll have to tell him I can’t see him anymore,
she thought.
I can’t hide from him every full moon.
She tried to feel self-righteous and committed, but all she felt was a sinking feeling in her gut. He had climbed up to her window, brought her wine, thought of her when he could have been out partying. She remembered the tickle of his hair on her cheek, his breath on her neck, and shivered deliciously.
    Vivian reached for her robe, which lay in a silken gray-and-blue shimmer across her desk chair, and dragged a brush through her tangled tawny hair.
No,
she told herself firmly.
I’ll leave the poor boy alone.
How long before the Five bothered him because of her? How long before the pack stepped in? They wouldn’t be leaderless forever. Soon there would be someone to answer to. That last thought annoyed her. Maybe she didn’t want to answer to someone.
    â€œPerhaps Astrid’s right,” Esmé said as Vivian walked into the kitchen.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” asked Rudy from the counter, where he was pouring the coffee.
    â€œWhy aren’t females allowed to compete in the Ordeal?” Esmé said. She sat at the kitchen table. There was a leaf in her hair, and Vivian was jealous of Esmé’s night in the open.
    â€œGimme a break!” exclaimed Rudy. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s purely physical. Females are in a different weight category. Their muscles don’t develop to the same degree. Why risk injury or death with no chance to win?”
    Vivian took the cup of coffee meant for her mother from Rudy’s hands and leaned back against the counter to drink it. Rudy rolled his eyes, but poured another cup.
    â€œBut some females are smarter than some males, craftier fighters,”