by Rose, Renee
“No,” I whisper. It’s only partly a lie. He’s exciting me.
As we drive back, Cole offers, “My mom ran away with the Wolf Ridge High math teacher.”
“Oh shit.” I cover my mouth with my hand.
“Yeah. Talk about a fucking scandal. They left town together and we haven’t heard from her since.”
“Not even you and Casey? She hasn’t tried to contact you?”
“Nope.” His face is a brutal reflection of bitterness and hurt.
“That’s fucked up.”
“No shit.” Cole pulls into the school parking lot. “So that’s when our household collapsed. My dad started drinking. It affected his job. You know what happened next.”
“He got fired and they hired my mom in.” I whisper. “And Jesus, what are the chances of us moving in next door? I keep thinking with how small Wolf Ridge is, the realtor should’ve warned us or something. I mean, didn’t she know? Seems like everyone knows everything here.”
Cole grimaces. “Oh she knew. She probably figured it was my dad’s due punishment. When the Wolf Ridge Brewery shut down for three weeks, three quarters of the town went on reduced pay. He was and probably still is the least favorite pa—I mean, town—member.”
“Well, that’s fucked up. Someone should get him some help instead of judging and condemning.”
“He wouldn’t take anyone’s help. My dad’s a stubborn asshole when it comes to admitting any weakness.”
“Hmm.” I don’t say how much that sounds just like him, but he picks up my tone.
“Shut up, Pink.” He doesn’t sound pissed, though. He turns my car off, leaving the keys in the ignition.
* * *
Cole
I touch the crack I put in Bailey’s dash. “I didn’t mean to hurt New Start. I will fix it for you, I promise.”
The approaching full moon is definitely getting to me. I swear I nearly marked Bailey back there. One minute I locked lips with her, the next my wolf was right at the surface. Like my canine teeth elongated to giving her a mating mark.
I’ve never had that happen before. Not even at the worst of the raging puberty hormones.
I have to wonder if it’s because there’s more at play here than sex. I don’t just want to fuck her—Bailey’s under my skin. I want to hold her hand and make her laugh and hear her dreams. And yeah, fuck her until she screams.
And fuck if any of that is possible.
She’s human.
Not a suitable mate. Definitely forbidden. And the daughter of the enemy.
That doesn’t stop me from wanting her.
But not during the full moon. I need to keep away until it’s over. Just a few more days.
“Thanks,” she murmurs. I eye her, trying to gauge how mad she is over it. I can get Bo’s uncle, Greg, to order a new dash right away, but I don’t have the money to pay for it. I might be able to talk Greg into spotting me, but that’s a big might.
“Are you coming to the game Saturday?”
“Of course,” she says, like it’s always been her and me. Like she didn’t flip me off last time I asked her to come. Well, told her to come. Her easy acceptance makes me warm and itchy. Like I need to be careful because someone’s going to get hurt.
Both of us are if I don’t put the brakes on this.
Trouble is, I don’t want to.
“You’d better,” I say. “I’ll be looking for you. But I can’t hang out after the game. We’re doing team building all weekend,” I lie, putting up barricades now while I still have a little control.
Disappointment flickers over her face before she hides it. She rubs her tattoo. There’s a trace of grief in her scent that I don’t quite understand.
“Next week, though, I’m getting you alone,” I promise. “I’m going to punish you for wearing these shorts. You don’t put them on again except on dates with me. Got it?”
She rolls her eyes and gives my arm a shove. “I don’t take orders from you.” It’s a show. She’s excited. My whole body’s attuned to hers now. The disappointment is gone, replaced by the light reverberation of giddiness.
Good.
She wants it as badly as I do.
Now all I have to do is make it through the full moon.
The rest of this shit I can figure out later.
I step out of her car and catch sight of someone else in the parking lot, walking to a familiar red Honda Civic.
Adriana.
And she definitely sees me getting out of Bailey’s car.
Fuck.
Double fuck.
Hopefully she keeps her mouth shut.
Somehow, though, I know she won’t.
* * *
Bailey
I stay after school to talk to the counselor about my college essays. When I walk out to my car, I find a plastic grocery bag of papers tucked under the windshield wiper of New Start.
I take the plastic bag out and open it. Inside is the stack of newspaper articles. I look around, even though it’s highly unlikely the person who left these is still here. Was it Brumgard? Or Cole?
I pull my phone out of my backpack and check my texts. My heartbeat speeds up when I see there’s a new message from Cole.
Of course it was him.
Left the newspaper articles on your car.
I look toward the football field. I’ve purposely been parking in front of it—like an idiot—to catch glimpses of him. The team spills out onto the field, taking a few laps around it as warm up. I spot Cole right away. I’m good at picking him out now. The broad shoulders, lean build.
It always feels like he’s staring right at me when I see him from a distance. Even now, I would swear he’s clocking me as he runs. I stand there watching for a moment until he runs by the fence close to me. He doesn’t take the turn, just plows straight into the fence, bending it from the force.
“Jesus, Cole. What the hell are you doing, man?” his buddy Wilde says before he looks up and sees me. “Oh.” It's a low, disapproving syllable. He leaves without another comment.
“You’re lucky there’s a fence between you and me right now,” Cole says, fingers twining in the metal loops. This is his form of flirting in public—throwing out subtle threats that others will take as bullying, but I register as sexual aggression.
“Am I?” The hardest thing for me is not responding. Acting bored, or even feigning discomfort, when really I want to let him pounce on me instead of that fence. Paw me with those large hands. Lick and bite me like a half-feral beast.
I'm disappointed he's going to be busy this coming weekend. Saturday is Catrina's birthday. If I ever truly needed punishment, it would be then.
He points a finger at me now as he slowly retreats and starts jogging backwards. “Better watch yourself, Pink.”
“Oh I’m ready,” I call back and his face splits into that lopsided grin I find so damn attractive.
Warm and giddy, I climb in my car, which I hate myself for loving.
I guess it wasn’t just fear keeping me from driving before. I made some silent vow to Catrina and not driving was the hardship I had to endure to make sure I never hurt someone again. To make sure I remember every day why I don’t drive.
But Cole’s in charge of my penance now. He made me drive. It’s on him. At least there’s no ice here, no snow or slippery roads to cause another accident.
At home I go through the articles. It doesn’t look like Brumgard bothered to read or grade them. Some of them are useable. Some are absolute garbage. I pick up Cole’s and read.
It’s good.
Really good.
It’s an interview with his friend Wilde about what it’s like to be captain of the football team. I expect a bunch of cliché or cocky shit, but instead Cole captures some vulnerability and earnestness. Wilde apparently works on team building on and off the field. He suffers from imposter syndrome; he doesn’t use that term, but that’s essentially the gist of it. He talks about all the shoes he has to fill from past generations, including his own
father, who was also a football star at the school. It’s a thoughtful, interesting feature article and I have to believe Cole did a good job on it for me.
I pick up my phone and text him. I’m impressed. Best article in the stack. Thank you.
He texts me back, I can be Straight A’s too.
If only you applied yourself.
I can apply myself. I can apply my hand to your ass.
I roll my eyes and smile. Then, because Cole is there, because he has my back, I open an email to Brumgard.
Thank you for the articles. I selected several for publication. Please have the following students email me their stories so I don’t need to retype them. I have the quotes on printing. Can you get a purchase order from the school to cover the costs?
Making a teacher my bitch. I’m living a whole new world under the tutelage of Cole Muchmore and his cocky alpha-hole ways.
Maybe getting molested by a teacher has a silver lining. I’m learning to assert myself in all kinds of new ways.
And I definitely have Cole to thank for it.
Chapter 12
Bailey
Cole told me we couldn’t get together this weekend.
That doesn’t stop me from checking my phone or watching the street outside for his truck after the football game.
I went to watch, as promised, and this time I actually enjoyed myself. Rayne and I still sat in the back, but I felt more comfortable. Even though the entire rest of the school still snubs both of us, the star of the team wanted me there.
I saw him looking for me. I swear I knew when he spotted me, too. And he played gloriously.
Lakeside had no chance against Wolf Ridge High. Our school absolutely trounced them. I’m starting to see why people enjoy sports around here so much. There’s never the disappointment of losing.
But now the game is over. My mom is still working on her laptop at the kitchen table, and I’m home, thinking about Catrina.
About what we’d be doing if she were still alive, how we would celebrate her eighteenth birthday. I lie on my bed and do what I vowed not to do—torture myself by opening up my old Instagram account. And there she is, her beautiful smile lighting up picture after picture of the two of us together and with friends. An entire photo-documentary of our years from seventh grade when I opened my account until she died.
I cry until I run out of tears and then I finally get a grip.
This isn’t doing me any good, and if I keep squatting in this hole I’ve dug, I’ll never get myself out of it. I roll off the bed and slip on a pair of flip flops.
I need to get out of the house, and I know exactly where I want to go.
“I’m going for a drive, Mom,” I call as I head to the door.
“Bailey? Wait, where are you going?” My mom leans in her chair to see me through the doorway to the living room and catches sight of my puffy red eyes. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
I choke back a fresh sob. “Nothing. It’s Catrina’s birthday. I’m going for a drive.”
Concern etches her forehead. “Okay, angel,” she says like she thinks it’s a weird idea but isn’t going to argue. “Be safe.”
I wince. “I’ll try,” I mutter and shut the door.
The sun has already set and a huge full moon is rising over Wolf Ridge. It’s the Hunter’s Moon, Rayne said yesterday. Whatever that means.
I get in my car and drive up to the abandoned playground. Cole said he liked to come here when he needs to get away, so it seemed like a good place. Although coming after dark is a little creepy.
The light of the full moon casts everything into an eerie glow. But it’s so bright I don’t have to take out my phone to see where I’m going.
I sit on a swing and give myself a push, gradually building height until I’m soaring, the wind rushing across my skin, the sense of falling and swooping soothing my heartache. I close my eyes and melt into it.
And that’s when I hear the growling.
My eyes fly open and I nearly piss my pants. Three giant wolves stand in a semi circle in front of me, teeth bared, fur ruffed. The unearthly growls send terror zipping up my spine.
I try to scream, but no sound comes out. I think my diaphragm’s stuck up in my throat.
I grip the rusty metal chains tighter, pumping my legs harder, like that will somehow get me out of here. Like if I swing high enough, the seat will just detach and fly me back home.
Shit, shit shit. I had no idea there were wolves in these parts. I mean, yes, it’s called Wolf Ridge, but I honestly didn’t know there was a real danger. Isn’t the Mexican gray wolf originally from this area on the extinction list?
The wolves show no sign of leaving. They’ve decided I’m dinner and they’re waiting for me to get off the damn swing. My whole body starts shaking like a leaf. Silent tears fall down my cheeks.
What can I do? My phone is with my purse at the base of the swing. I can’t stay here and swing all night.
Yes, yes I can. That’s what I’m going to do.
Twenty minutes later my thighs burn so badly they’re cramping and my palms are so sweaty I can barely hold on to the chains. And my plan isn’t working. The wolves below me are restless. First they sat down to wait, but now they circle, coming in closer. One lunges and nips at my legs when I swing through the lowest point. I scream, trying to hold my feet as high in the air as possible.
On the swing back, it snaps its powerful jaws around my foot. My scream echoes off the canyon rocks. Pain slices through where a tooth punctures the top of my foot and I’m yanked forcefully from the swing. I land on my back on the ground and the wind gets knocked out of me, abruptly ending my high-pitched scream.
Panic roars through me. I need to run, escape, but I can barely stagger to my feet and I’m surrounded by three snarling wolves.
And then out of nowhere, a fourth wolf appears, launching into the ring and tussling with one of the first three.
I scream again, trying to back up, but I can’t. The wolves have me boxed in. The newer wolf, an enormous tan and white beast, springs free of the tussle and positions itself in front of me, like it’s claiming me as its food. Like it wants to fight the others for the right to eat me.
Oh God. I have never been so screwed in my life.
And I’ve also never been so certain I don’t want to die.
After the accident and my grief over Catrina, I often wondered what was the point of going on. Now, I’m quite positive I have so much to live for. Exploring this thing with Cole is at the top of my list.
And now I may not have the chance. No, fuck that. I’m getting out of this.
The wolves continue to snarl and snap at me and at the new wolf. Four more more wolves slink into my line of sight. Christ, how many of them are there in this pack?
I look around for a weapon within reach. There isn’t much, but I see a large rock. I slowly stoop to pick it up with shaking hands, but one of the wolves launches at me and knocks me to my back. I scream again.
The latest arrivals jump in and there’s more fighting. Maybe this is two packs fighting for their meal? Fur flies, snarls fills the air.
The tan and white wolf literally stands over me in a show of dominance and territory claimed. Eventually, the first three wolves drop the fight and trot away, turning every once in a while to snarl at the winning pack.
I’m still afraid to move. The wolf standing over me isn’t facing me, he’s facing out, but he still could turn and sink those terrifying teeth into my throat at any second.
All the growling stops. Apparently the winning wolves don’t need to show me dominance. They’re already sure of their dinner. I blink in the moonlight. Is one of the wolves wearing a chain with dog tags attached? Like military dog tags?
And then suddenly there’s a blur and a snapping of bones and Cole’s crouched over me buck naked. He scoops me up into his arms and lifts me easily. Looking down at one of the wolves, he says curtly, “I’m taking her to your cabin.”
Like talking to wolv
es is a normal thing.
Holy fuck. Cole just changed from a wolf!
Am I high?
Am I hallucinating?
It takes me more than a minute to believe what I just saw with my own eyes. My brain’s trying to produce a more plausible explanation, but there isn’t one. Cole is a wolf. They all are wolves. Werewolves. And the moon is full.
Holy shit, does this mean I’m still dinner? But a different kind of supernatural dinner?
As if he senses my fresh surge of fear, Cole looks into my eyes for the first time. His glow amber instead of their usual brown. “Hey, hey, hey. You’re safe now. Don’t be scared, babygirl. I’ve got you.”
He strides with long steps toward my car, stopping to pick up my purse from the ground on the way. His feet are bare, like the rest of him, but he doesn’t seem to notice the rocks and rough ground as he walks. He just takes me around to the passenger side, sets me on my feet and wrestles my sweatshirt off me to tie around his waist and cover his junk. Holy shit—his very erect, very long—I snap my eyes back up to his face.
“You’re bleeding.” He scans me. “Where?”
“I don’t know. My foot, probably. I got bit.” I think I’m going into shock, if I’m not there already. None of this is making sense.
Cole shakes my keys out of my purse and pops the locks. He opens my door and lifts me into the seat.
After he climbs into the driver’s side, I warble, “A-am I going to turn into a werewolf now?”
He lets out a puff of surprised laughter, but immediately sobers. “No, baby. We’re a different species. It’s not a disease. Not contagious.” He takes off out of the parking lot, screeching down the dirt road.
“Tell me you don’t eat my species.”
Now he does laugh. “Only in the way you love, Pink.”
I pull my knees up to my chest, my ruined Chucks resting on the seat as I hug my legs.
“Hey.” He lays a hand on my knee. “Are you okay? Do you need a hospital or can we take care of your injuries at Austin’s cabin?”
Austin.