Page 8 of One Hour

“That’s why it’s not the same? Because you don’t have to fight me? Aren’t you afraid I’ll turn on you in a training session and kill you?”

The thought was so unlikely, it hadn’t crossed my mind. I shrugged. “Maybe. If you were capable.”

Something in her expression shifted. I didn’t have time to figure it out before her first connected with my jaw.

My head snapped sideways and my mouth fell open, more from shock then pain. As I straightened to face her again, her other fist landed in my gut. It reawakened the dull ache from before and I doubled over.

“What the hell was that for?” I growled.

“To show you I’m capable.”

“Message received.”

“It’s clear we are too different to work together, much less be friends. I am half Werewolf, after all.”

I sucked in a breath and planted my feet, ignoring the pain as I straightened to look at her. “Fine,” I said. “You’re right. You’re a Dirty Blood. But you fight like a human.”

The fury transformed her face and distracted me just long enough to forget to brace myself. Or maybe there was a part of me that wanted to scuffle with her.

Her body slammed into me and we went down. I found an opening and connected my fist with her ribs. She grunted as she curled her torso around to protect her body. I hadn’t put all my force into the hit, but it was enough. We were even for her punches. The knee was another story.

I let her continue the scuffle, careful to keep her wrists in my grasp so she couldn’t land any more hits. I didn’t throw her off me, though I could’ve more than once. This was the most fun I’d had in a long time, though I’d never admit that to her.

Then I felt her chin nudging my shoulder and I realized too late her intention. Her teeth broke flesh and I let loose a yell, wrenching her aside.

The fun was over.

My shoulder burned where her teeth had broken my flesh. I shoved her, ready to be done with this. Just before she rolled clear, she clamped down on my shoulders and slid her legs around mine, pinning us together. Then she jerked left and we rolled.

I tried throwing my body weight to stop our momentum but she writhed against it. We gained speed, turning end over end. Laughter, irrational and unexplainable, bubbled up and I swallowed it back. A rock jabbed into my shoulder blade and my smile turned to a grimace. Just as well. If she saw me laughing, she might try to knee me again. And I’d be damned if I let her do it twice.

We landed at the bottom of the hill with a thump, our faces inches apart. Her eyes were closed. I stared down at her, drinking in her smooth skin, the curved shape of her mouth, the flush in her cheeks. I lifted a hand, my fingertips hovering next to her face. What would it feel like to touch her?

Then a noise behind us caused her eyes to flutter open and she glared up at me. I dropped my hand.

Hoots and hollers and raucous laughter broke out behind us. Tara’s face reddened. I bit back a curse and got to my feet, watching her with a tightness in my chest.

What was I going to do about her?

Cold Blood

Dear To My beautiful Hey, Tara,

I’ve composed this letter so often in my mind, the words sound used up when I put them on the page. There are a thousand things I could say and a thousand ways to say them. But mostly—and simply—I miss you. Your hair, the way it smells like that flowery shampoo you use. Your hand, the way it curls automatically around mine when I reach for you. I’ve never told you, but I love that; the way your body responds to mine like a magnet. I miss your eyes, the way they widen when I say things like what I’ve written here, and the way they heat up when I kiss you. I really miss kissing you. I can’t wait to show you how much. I know you’re safer there and I should be content with that, but all I want is for summer to hurry up and for you to come home. All of the running around and playing politician with Jack is exhausting. It would be easier with you here.

The packs hate me aren’t responding well to me. Jack says it’ll take some time. He says it’s about earning trust—that it doesn’t have to do with my dirty blood. I’m not convinced. Only time will tell. Some of them … some of them refuse to meet me. One tried to … well, I’ll tell you when I see you. I can’t wait to see you, but even weekends are filled with hand-shaking or some form of travel or meetings. I feel stupid, dressing nice and walking around on two legs in front of entire packs, just so they won’t feel threatened by the new guy. But that’s what Jack says I should do. So I do it. Not for them. For him.

He misses you too. So does Fee. She mentions you almost every day, asking me how you’re doing. I told her to just talk to you herself so she’ll leave me alone. She said she would write soon.

I intended to write telling you how I was doing here but all I can think about is how you’re doing there and the fact that I miss you. If I keep writing, I’ll start repeating myself like an idiot, so I’ll sign off. Jack’s waiting for me. We’re driving down to meet another pack leader. I’ll be back sometime tomorrow and try to call you then.

I love you, Tara Godfrey. Stay safe.

Wes

Cold Blood

Cambria meets Miles for the first time