Hexe turned away from them all, everyone save Steele. They could think what they wanted to think—he had his reasons. Snow crunched under his boots as he strode toward her, her slim body still leaned against the mountainside, one booted foot pressed back against the rock. Lazy, almost. She eyed the knife in her hand before flicking her steel gray gaze up to his. Cool, confident.
He’d have expected nothing less.
But she always bluffed first. Postured first. She gave everyone an out, a chance to retreat. Steele waited now, her eyes on his, body stiff, but he recognized it for what it was. A chance to remove his Mark and pretend this had never happened. Even with everyone watching, she’d let him just walk away.
He wouldn’t.
Hexe had watched her long enough. He’d tried on every occasion he’d had to get to know her, but out here, she was in control. Always, always in control. He needed to find a way to get her off balance, to get her to let him in.
“I hope you have a good reason for this.” Steele’s eyes narrowed and suddenly they looked tinged with frost. “I hate to kill Kings.”
Hexe bit back a smile. There it was. The bluff. But backing down would get him nothing. Nothing would change.
“I have my reasons.” Hexe kept his voice low, the rough baritone dark. He took a step closer to her, watched the muscle in her jaw flex, but there was a flash of confusion in her eyes too. Her thumb slid over the handle of her blade. Her eyes met his and he saw the furious plea. She wanted him to back down. Hexe lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Whether or not you’ll find them ‘good’ is another thing.”
Another step.
“Try me.”
Hexe shook his head. Not now. Not in front of everyone. Not when he could still see the icy resolve around her. She was giving him an out, but she really didn’t care. Then again, it was hard to picture her ever caring, ever relaxing, with her long black hair tugged out of her hip-length braid and hanging loose in waves about her face. He doubted she’d believe him if he told her that was the reason. He needed a Queen, an equal at his side. A partner. But more than that, he wanted to see if the flashes of the softer woman he saw in her eyes, the glimpses of vulnerability and compassion, were real.
There was no denying she was beautiful, strong. A warrior. It was hard to picture her without a knife in her small hand. Yet somehow, when she slipped into his thoughts at night, dark and deadly as sin, he wanted to taste her. To press her back against a rocky wall and slip the zipper on her parka down. He knew she was lean, slender. Toned. Every bit the warrior he was. He doubted she’d be soft and yet, his gaze slipped to the hollow of her throat.
What would she do if he kissed her there?
Hexe took another step and Steele stiffened. Her blade made one last swirl over her palm before her fingers closed confidently over the handle. The tribe had gone quiet behind him, whatever squabbles they had over Marked females, or flirts that had just begun—it had all died away. Hexe hesitated a moment. If there was anyone here that could kill him and strip him from his throne, it was the woman in front of him, her gunmetal gray eyes the color of frost now.
He’d watched her fight once before. She fought clean, fast, and deadly. Every bit as skilled as he was. Hexe let his muscles tense, ready. When he came at her, he couldn’t be soft because Steele wouldn’t give him a second shot.
But he didn’t pull his blade.
She had that advantage. He didn’t want her dead, he just wanted her to be his. The muscle in her jaw flexed as he stepped closer again, so obviously doing what she didn’t want him to do. “You’ll be missing a kidney soon, my King.”
Hexe didn’t answer her. He lunged, clearing the last stride between them in a blur. Her knife whirled out and Hexe jerked out of range, air hissing out of his teeth in a sharp whistle. He caught her by her upper arm and flung her around, but Steele kicked out, one booted foot connecting with his knee. He grunted under the pain and jerked her back. Her knife slashed out, deadly, and Hexe leapt away, letting her go.
Steele stood with her back to him, looking over her shoulder. Her fingers played over the handle of her knife, drumming. Calculating. Hexe licked his teeth and waited. She made the first lunge, feinting with a slash of her knife at his gut. He jerked back, just as her foot connected with his side. He stumbled, lashing out when her knife blurred by again. Damn it. Hexe dodged the slash and caught her wrist, jerking Steele sharply forward.
She stumbled, but only enough that she managed to wedge a leg between his and catch him behind the knee. Hexe gave a growl as he crashed down on top of her, but it was the hoarse whoosh of air sliding from her lungs that roused a happy rumble from his chest.
She struggled, twisting the knife around, but he pinned one wrist above her head, snagging the other with his free hand. Her hips pinned under his, he straddled her. He slammed her wrists into the snow over her head. Steele’s lips tightened and she went still.
He didn’t for a second think she’d yielded.
“Drop the blade.” Her jaw tightened and Hexe dug his thumb into the sensitive pulse of her wrist. “Drop it, Steele.”
Pain flashed in her quicksilver gaze, but she didn’t yield until her hand spasmed and the blade tumbled loose of her grip.
She grimaced. “What now?”
He’d won the first round, but Hexe knew better than to think the rest of this would be easy. She would be slow to tame, slow to heat, but he’d seen metal turned molten before and she reminded him so much of her namesake. She’d bend, soften.
“You’re mine for the next two weeks.”
Her lips curved into a sneer and Hexe had to fight not to lean down and steal a kiss.
She knew Wintersong, knew the Marks. She’d known what would happen if she lost. She had hoped to win the fight and deny him. Hexe grinned.
“I’ll play nice.” His gaze drifted to her lips again, “But I won’t be giving you back your blade.”
Her hips flexed slightly under hers, her whole body arching as she tried to reach for it. Hexe held her fast, waiting. With a frustrated sigh, she stilled beneath him again. He pinned both wrists with one hand, and swept the knife up into his free hand. Her gaze sharpened and he didn’t miss the fury that passed through her frost tinged eyes. But he recognized the confusion there too, in the way her eyebrows drew down.
Then she seemed to shake it off and tensed underneath him, her hands curled into fists.
“That’s fine. I’ll steal yours.”
He had no doubt she’d try.
Click to buy Bending Steele by Sadie Hart ($1.99)
###
If you like young adult werewolf romance, try...
Wolfsong (Otherside #1)
by Kodilynn Calhoun
Chapter One
I knew two things for certain: One, the girl with the mesmerizing eyes was staring at me again, and two, I would never have the balls to talk to her.
Still, I couldn’t help but seek her out of the crowd of unruly high school students loitering around the front doors. She didn’t really stand out, not to me at least. She was cheerleader material—five-three with long, platinum blonde hair that danced in the wind around a heart shaped face. I happened to be a sucker for the sort of girl to get muddy playing football with the guys. This girl would probably freak out if she broke a nail.
Then our eyes locked and it was all I could do to remember how to breathe, like all of the oxygen had been sucked from my lungs with one of those turkey basters. Wow. They were an angel’s eyes, blue as oceans, and I knew that one of these days, I’d have to talk to her.
She stood on the curb, giving me an impish smile as she pulled down the hem of her yellow sundress. A smile that promised of things to come, whether I liked it or not, and my stomach twisted.
Maybe tomorrow.
I looked away, trying to fend off the rather demasculinizing blush burning my cheeks, thinking of dead kittens and cold showers. If anyone asked, I could pass it off as windburn. It was cold enough out here.
“Huh. I was beginning to think you fancied boys.” Greyson Meyer’s voice was a fly in my ear, slightly buzzing, his breath a warm reprieve from autumn’s chill. A smile laced through his next words: “I was getting a little excited.”
I gave him a shove with my shoulder, turning away from the blue-eyed girl. Greyson was my best friend—hell, my only friend—and played the part of a well behaved Christian boy. With tousled hair the color of sand and an innocent smile that could fool even God, he got straight-A’s, strived to graduate with honors, and played the trumpet in Rockfell High’s Jazz combo. Most people would never guess he was gay.
“Sorry to rain on your parade, but I’ve never been on that menu.”
“So, you like her?” He jerked his thumb in her direction.
I resisted the urge to look back at Angel Girl. “Well, sure. She’s pretty, yeah?” Wrong person to ask, of course. He gave me a wry grin and I shook my head. “But she’s not really my type.” Besides, I was kind of a foot-in-mouth sort of guy when it came to girls.
He rolled his eyes. “That’s why you were ogling her? Do you even have a type, besides big-boobed anime chicks? Which, by the way, are totally unproportional, if you really think about it.”
I cut him a look.
“All I’m saying is this: Live for the Now. Who cares about type? If you like her, go talk to her. It’s not like you’ve got anything to lose.”
“My dignity?”
Greyson snorted. “What dignity? This dignity?” With that, he reached behind me and groped my ass. I gave a bark of surprise and punched him in the shoulder. He merely shot me a too-innocent grin and gave me a shove. I lurched forwards, gaining my balance only to trip over the curb. One minute I was upright, the next I was eating cement. I tasted the copper tinge of blood as laughter boomed out around me.
“Nice fall.” Angel Girl’s voice was softly husky where I’d been expecting fluting and feminine. I groaned and looked up, my eyes catching hers. They sparkled with curiosity and concern. I sat up and wiped my bleeding lip with the sleeve of my jacket while she tried to stifle a grin. She failed. “Are you alright?”
“I’m alive.” But it didn’t feel like I would be for long—my heart was pinballing around in my throat and my palms were suddenly slick with sweat. I couldn’t stop staring. God. She was beautiful.
I pushed myself to my feet and glanced around behind me, ready to shoot laser-eyes at Greyson, but he was nowhere to be found. Instead I looked back to the girl, feeling suddenly sheepish. “Are those contacts?” And this was the reason I didn’t want to talk to her; I had no filter between my brain and my mouth, especially around girls. I always ended up sounding like a fool. I hauled my messenger bag back up on my shoulder.
“Nope, you?” she shot back, her lips quirking in a half-smirk, half-smile.
I slowly shook my head. My irises were a rich yellow with dark gold flecking through them. I had my father’s eyes, although his had been caring and kind. Mine were…I don’t know. Wary. I stood there, my hands in my jacket pockets as I looked at her. She felt familiar. Odd, because I’d never met her before in my life.
She must’ve felt the same about me, because she boldly looped her arm through mine and tugged me away from the school. Once again, my face heated, but I dropped my head and followed after her. What else could I do? This was my big chance to talk to her.
And I was probably going to screw it up.
“Do you have a name?”
“Doesn’t everyone? Ariiantha. You can call me Arii.” She put emphasis on the ‘ee’ sound.
“Exotic.” I managed a small smile. “I’m—”
“Kia Thomas. I know who you are.”
Oh boy. “Are you…stalking me or something?”
“Something like that. I’ve actually got a question.”
“If you want help with calc, let me tell you now that I’m pretty much failing.” Unlike Greyson, I wasn’t aiming real high school-wise. I was gonna be lucky to graduate with a B-average. But it wasn’t like I was planning on going to college; as soon as high school was over, I was done. Maybe I’d get a job working with animals or something—I communicated with dogs better than I ever had with people.
Arii shook her head. “Nope. It’s more personal than that.”
I let air seep between my teeth in a hiss. Oh hell, was she going to ask me out? Her? She was beautiful, quirky, and probably fun and I was just…me. “It depends, I guess. Shoot?”
But instead of asking me to study or go on a date with her, her eyes flickered with emotion. “Do you ever feel like maybe you belong somewhere else?”
What kind of question was that? I looked up at her, studying her face, her brow slightly creasing. Did she mean feeling like I was a stranger in this endless world? That maybe there was a reason for me being such a lone-wolf? I opened my mouth, but no words came out for a moment. I blinked and tried again. “I—”
“There you are.” I felt a hand clamp down on my shoulder. I twisted out of Arii’s grasp, turning to face my baby sister. Shae was fifteen and a freshman. If I looked like our dad with his pale skin and cocoa-dark hair, she definitely took after Mom. Her auburn hair was cropped at her chin in sharp, choppy layers and her green eyes gleamed with her traditional ornery sparkle. She wore red and black striped leggings under torn-knee jeans and her boyfriend’s Incubus hoodie.
“Mom called and said she’d be home early and she’s making chicken lasagna tonight. We’re not allowed to miss it.”
That was a surprise. Mom typically worked late every night. She was one of the big-wig nurses and the hospital worked her like a dog. Shae and I were usually in charge of dinner. Mom would come home, reheat leftovers, then crash. We’d see her before we went to school in the morning, decked out in her Snoopy scrubs. Rinse, lather, repeat, six days a week.
Shae looked at Arii long and hard before offering a wide smile. “You gonna introduce me, Kia?” Her arms crossed over her chest.
Arii offered a hand. I noticed her nails were kept short, natural, with no polish. Maybe I was wrong about the whole break-a-nail thing. “Ariiantha Caldwell.”
Shae took her hand with a grin. “Mishaela Thomas. What are your intentions with my brother?” Shae didn’t waste any time getting to the point. I felt fire touch my cheeks and I turned away with a groan. Shae swatted my arm. “Hey, I’m just watching out for you.” Then to Arii: “Are you asking him out or something? Because Kia totally needs to get laid.”
“Shae!”
Arii merely laughed. “Maybe someday,” which made my heart lunge into my throat like a rabid beaver. I shot her a glance, which she shrugged off with a smile. Her too-blue eyes locked into mine.
“I’ll let you two get home; you don’t wanna miss dinner. Nice to meet you, Shae. I’ll see you later, Kia?” Her head tipped slightly to the side, her blonde hair falling over one shoulder. I had the urge to reach out and touch it.
Instead I nodded and she turned and floated off, her flats scuffing the sidewalk. I spun on my sister with a low growl. “What the hell, Shae?” She did this a lot, embarrassing me in front of people, but this… This was too much.
“Oh, get over it,” she huffed. “She’s totally into you and, let’s face it; you have no idea how to handle this sort of situation. You practically need me.”
“Like you’re an expert? How long have you been with Tate? Two months?”
She shot me a look. “Try five and a half. We’re practically engaged.” She straightened up, stuffing both hands into the pockets of her hoodie. “Mom said dinner would be ready around six. I’m going to hang with the gang at Hotspot until then.”
The gang equaled her two best friends, Marley and Phaedra, their boyfriends, and Tate, of course. Hotspot was Rockfell’s little café-slash-teen hangout. I’d been there twice—way too many people in my opinion, not to mention the music was horrible.
“I’ll see you at home then.” I knew where I was going, even as she walked off, leaving me alone in the emptying parking
lot. I hauled my bag higher up on my shoulder and headed towards town. I’d take the long way home, just like usual, through Rockfell Plaza. To my alley.
The wind was crisp, smelling faintly of snow as it whipped through my jacket. As I walked, my thoughts drifted to Ariiantha, to her cryptic question. What did she mean? And more importantly, how would she know how I felt? Unless she felt that way too? It didn’t seem possible; she seemed so with it, the kind of girl who was pretty and popular and perfect.
But then again, all those times I’d caught her watching me in the halls, I never saw her with friends. Maybe she was as alone as I was. Maybe I’d introduce her to Greyson Monday at lunch. Maybe someday I’d be bold enough to ask her out. Hey, a guy can dream.
I drew nearer to the alley between Joe’s Tavern and a second-hand clothes store Mom shopped at. Sprawled out in front of the rusty green trash cans was a dog. My dog. Delilah was the dog I only wished I could take home with me.
A big, lanky female, she was mostly husky with a mix of shepherd and maybe even a little wolf. Her coat was long and plush, white with a silver saddle and face mask. Her eyes were the perfect husky-blue and they lit up with excitement as I crouched down. In the middle of her forehead, between her eyebrows, was a white marking resembling a question mark.
Her entire body wiggled, long tail thumping the ground as she scooted closer to me. I sat down, cross-legged, in the mouth of the alley and Del all but climbed into my lap.
“Hey girl.” I wrapped both arms around her neck. My fingers found the black, rolled leather collar and stainless steel tag I’d bought for her. They kept her out of the shelter, at least until I could take her home. This was my heart-dog, the one being in this entire world I could talk to without feeling nervous. The words came easily, flowing off the tip of my tongue. I cupped her face in my hands and smiled as her large ears pricked up. Her tail never stopped wagging.
“Tonight, girl. I’m going to ask Mom if you can live with us,” I said, stroking the fur of her face down. Mom didn’t like dogs—she’d been attacked by one when she was little and she’d never quite forgiven them. Even though Del would never hurt a fly, I knew taking her home would probably never happen. Not even if I kept her in the back yard on a chain.
Resisting Velocity Page 19