On Fire

by Nancy Holder

  “I think we’re both having the same thought,” she murmured. “Privacy.”

  Privacy, as in being careful not to be seen together while they were hanging out? Or privacy as in . . . oh, God, was she serious?

  “So we can get to know each other.” She pondered a moment. “Would you think I was too forward if I invited you to my apartment? Just for coffee?”

  “When?” he blurted.

  She smiled. “Now?”

  His mind was racing so fast it was practically starved for oxygen. He checked the time on the large wall clock. Laura and he were due to meet at the Beaconburger in forty-five minutes. Depending on how far away her apartment was, they could dress quickly, drive over there, chat for a few minutes . . . but there just wasn’t enough time.

  What if she didn’t ask again? He couldn’t say no. But he didn’t want to say that he had to get a ride home with his sister.

  “We only have one car in my family,” he said. That wasn’t true, but she didn’t have to know it.

  “I could drive you home.”

  She looked so hopeful that he almost said yes. But with Wolf Moon approaching, members of the pack would be showing up. He wasn’t sure when, but the rules of hospitality always applied—all pack members had a standing invitation to stay at each other’s houses.

  “I’ll just drop you off,” she said. “No one will see us.”

  He was so torn. He wanted to say yes like anything. But he couldn’t put his pack in jeopardy by inviting a stranger onto their land. At any other time, he would be able to pull it off. Laura had had friends over, even for overnights on non-full-moon nights. But right now it was too risky.

  Talk about horrible timing.

  “Another time, then,” she said sadly.

  “Wait. Let me call my sister,” he blurted. And then he was embarrassed because that sounded as if he had to check in with her.

  “Laura Hale?” she asked, and he was startled. She blushed again. “I made discreet inquiries about you. Your sister’s a senior.”

  “Yes. Please, wait just a second,” he said.

  “Okay.” She was so sweet.

  As he kicked off toward the edge of the pool, he forced himself to slow down. He could swim faster than anyone on the varsity team, but no one could ever know that. Then, as he plodded through the water, he could feel himself begin to wolf. He was too excited. He had to calm down. But how could a sixteen-year-old guy calm down when a beautiful woman like Ms. Argent wanted to get to know him?

  Stop, stop, he ordered himself.

  He made himself stay in the water until he was sure the wolf shift had reversed itself, and then he scrambled out of the pool. He didn’t look back at her as he walked into the boys’ locker room. He knew that would look wimpy, and he wanted to be 100 percent positive that there were no telltale signs of the shift on his face—no sprouted hair, no long teeth, no glowing eyes.

  Once in the bathroom, he checked his eyes, then opened his locker and got his phone. He called Laura.

  “Hey,” she said. “Zup?”

  “Can you pick me up in three hours?” he asked. He had no idea where. “At the Beaconburger?” He could always call her back later with a different place. If she said yes.

  Say yes, say yes, say yes, Derek silently pleaded.

  “What’s in it for me?” she asked.

  “I won’t tell Dad that you were frenching Josh last Wolf Moon.”

  “I was not,” she said indignantly. “I would never—”

  “And that I have the picture on my phone to prove it,” he added smoothly, although he was lying. He didn’t have a picture. He even wasn’t sure she had been frenching him. But when he’d walked in to call them to the ritual, both of them had messed-up hair and Laura’s lipstick was gone. And her lips looked like they’d practically been chewed off.

  “Derek,” she said. “You didn’t.”

  Ah-ha, and you did. He was insulted. Josh was his direct rival. Laura shouldn’t be dueling tongues with him.

  Suddenly he scented Ms. Argent and glanced in the mirror above the row of sinks. She was standing at the entrance of the boys’ locker room. He hitched a breath, reacting to how hot she looked. A beach towel was wrapped around her body like a dress, showing off her sculpted legs.

  He was still dripping wet in his Speedo and he turned slightly. He held up a finger—one minute—and was very grateful that Ms. Argent didn’t have superior hearing, like werewolves. Otherwise she would hear Laura sputtering and threatening to rip off various parts of his body when the assembled pack went on the big hunt.

  “This is so you can do something slutty,” Laura said.

  “Sort of,” Derek said noncommittally.

  “With a human.”

  “So what? You have.”

  “I have not. Not . . . that.”

  He lowered his voice. “I’m not doing . . . that.” Although he really, really wanted to. “We’re just going to talk.” Laura snorted. “We are,” he insisted.

  She huffed. “Okay. Okay, even though it’s inconvenient. I have a lot of studying to do and I’ll tell Mom I need to go to the library. She won’t care. But you have to promise me that you’ll delete that picture and I will be checking your phone.”

  “Okay,” he said. She’d probably kill him when she found out he’d been lying to her, but it would be worth it.

  He hung up and pretended not to see Ms. Argent in the mirror. Then he counted to five before he turned around to give her the good news. He knew he couldn’t act all overeager. She wouldn’t respect that. But he was so happy that it was difficult not to.

  When he did face her, he worked very hard at not grinning ear to ear.

  “All set. Let’s go,” he said.

  He left the huge grin for her.

  • • •

  Oh, sweetie, getting your attention is like shooting fish in a barrel, Kate thought as she drove Derek in her car to her apartment. It was across the street from a bar, which, from her point of view, was convenient for when she wanted to hang out with the grown-ups. She was wearing a pair of jeans, heeled boots, and a black low-cut cashmere sweater. I can practically hear you slobbering. It’s like you’re a big puppy dog and I am a juicy steak.

  She had taken off her pendant just in case he might know what it was and it was resting safely inside her purse. It showed the Beast of Gévaudan, the murderer that had begun the feud between the hunters and the werewolves. An Argent family heirloom, it served as a token to remind the hunters that they had taken that pelt, and would take many others through the generations.

  The thrill of this new hunt raced through her. The euphoria of the chase. She never, ever got tired of dangling herself in front of males of all kinds. It was no accident that in ancient Greece, the deity in charge of the hunt was a goddess—Artemis.

  Beside her, Derek “Aquaman” Hale had his head resting on the back of the seat and his eyes closed. He was really good-looking. This was not going to be the most difficult thing she’d ever done in her life.

  He opened his eyes and looked at her as if he couldn’t believe his good fortune, and, yeah, he was pretty damn lucky if she did say so. Many had called. Few were chosen.

  She parked in the spot allotted to her apartment unit. After she killed the engine, she led him inside. A street-level unit, it was pretty sparsely furnished. She wasn’t planning to stay in Beacon Hills all that long.

  Just long enough.

  “Do you really want coffee?” she asked, as she put down her purse and took off her jacket. “Or would you rather have a beer? I also have wine. I like red wine,” she said.

  He smiled faintly. “We drink wine on—” He stopped himself. “Special occasions.”

  “Wine it is.” She grinned happily. “I like to have a little something to unwind after I’m at the pool, you know? Lucky thing I live across the street from a bar.” She said that to goose him a little, remind him she was a woman, with a woman’s needs.

  He looked a little worrie
d about having wine, but there was no way she was giving him coffee or even a soda with caffeine in it. He was completely amped already. Any more and he’d probably fly to the moon.

  The full moon?

  She had her orders, but she had to be sure. Kill werewolves, and you were a hero. Kill people, and you were a mass murderer. The group she was involved with had detected werewolf activity in Beacon Hills, and she just had a feeling about the Hales. Of course, there were several other large families in the area that might make up the pack she was seeking. Derek’s furtiveness and hesitation might have nothing to do with her assignment. There were reasons other than being a werewolf for not wanting to bring home someone who was way too old for you.

  It hadn’t dawned on him to question the motives of a pretty woman who was coming on to him. He believed what he chose to believe. Men—werewolves and humans—were so simple. They always assumed you wanted them. Some fat man on a couch burping and watching cage matches?

  Oh, yeah, you wanted him.

  A guy who threw you around the room and accused you of cheating on him?

  Oh, yeah, you wanted him.

  Like a hole through your heart.

  But the good one? The one that you really did want?

  A flash of rage roared through Kate, but she kept it at bay. She could feel it trying to take over, like a wolf scratching at her door. Rage was not her enemy. Rage got the job done.

  In ancient Greece—land of Lycoan, said to be the first werewolf—men who pissed off the goddess Artemis were ripped to shreds by her hunting dogs. Several times a day, Kate dreamed about ripping various people to shreds. Of course, she never acted on it. She left that for others much less able to control their savagery.

  Through the entrance to the kitchen, she watched as Sweetie Derek politely moved a packing carton off her sofa and sat down. What a body. Still boyish, but with the sweet promise of a truly splendid man. If she was right about the Hales, Derek would never become a man. Just as he wasn’t really a boy. He was a monster hidden inside a human disguise.

  If she was right.

  She poured two glasses of wine and started to pull open the drawer with the secret ingredient . . . except that he got back off the couch and came into the kitchen, stopping in the doorway as if asking permission to enter.

  “Well, hello,” Kate said. She shut the drawer and handed him one of the glasses. Ruby red, just like blood. Funny thing about werewolves. When you shot them or cut them open, their blood was red, just like humans’.

  “What shall we toast to?” she asked him, smiling as he stared shyly at the wine in his glass, as if drinking together signaled another step in their dance. A closer step. Which it did. That was why people drank together.

  When he shrugged his shoulders, she leaned against the counter, giving him a nice view, and said, “How about to life, love, and the pursuit?”

  She waited for his response. He was staring at her body. Wanting her. Intimidated by her.

  She loved it.

  “The pursuit of happiness?” he said, as if he assumed she’d forgotten the actual expression.

  “Sure. That’s worth pursuing,” she said.

  • • •

  They clinked glasses. And drank the wine. Derek was used to it; they had specific rituals for each new moon, including drinking wine and eating traditional delicacies. Wolf Moon was the most special. It was a time for family reunions and reestablishing pack unity. It was also the night for issuing challenges and reordering the hierarchy of the pack.

  The night he would kick Josh’s ass.

  He wanted to tell Ms. Argent all about it. She probably liked athletic men. In human form, he and Josh would run through a set of contests based on strength, speed, and endurance. When the moon rose, they would battle in werewolf form for dominance. The whole pack would watch, and howl in support and approval as the two displayed their cunning and prowess. Challenges kept the pack strong. Werewolves had to be able to take down prey, and defend themselves on the hunt. And, should hunters ever come to their door, they had to be able to defend themselves from the humans.

  If anyone ever attacked her, I’d rip out his throat, he thought. She probably had no idea just how wild the world could be. He wanted to shield her, protect her. The pack looked out for its own. The loyalty to the pack went far deeper than what most humans felt for their blood relatives. His Uncle Peter said that the humans were fickle and weak. When they were threatened, they panicked and scattered. Werewolves worked together to take out powerful enemies.

  Like hunters. They’d been clashing with hunters for centuries.

  “Want another glass of wine, Derek?” she asked him.

  He checked the time on his cell phone. He had at least two hours to go.

  “I’m having seconds,” she said.

  “Oh, then yes, please,” he said. He drank it down so she wouldn’t have to wait and handed the glass to her. She put her knee on the couch as she took it, smiling down at him. He was aware of her scent and the welcoming warmth of her body heat.

  “Would you like something to eat?” she asked. “Sandwich? I have roast beef.”

  He was really hungry. He nodded.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  He watched as she walked back into the kitchen, her hips swaying, and he smiled faintly to himself. Sure, he was nervous, but this was really cool. He thought about taking a picture of himself on her couch with his phone but he felt like it might put her in danger. It was awesome that she was willing to take a chance just to be with him. She could get fired, even jailed if things . . . if they happened.

  He rose, fidgety and excited, not sure what to do or say when she came back. Was she waiting for him to make the next move?

  He wandered around the room. It wasn’t very big, and it was filled with cartons. Trying to be casual, he glanced down a short, narrow hall to where her bedroom must be. Just thinking about it made his blood race, and he wiped his face with his hand. He was feeling sweaty and too hot. He caught himself walking a couple of steps down the hall and turned around. Coffee, she had said. Getting to know each other.

  And he wanted that. He really did. But he was a young werewolf in his prime, and it was becoming difficult for him to keep himself under control. He checked his fingernails. Had they lengthened? He rubbed his tongue along the edges of his canine teeth. Sharper?

  “Here we go,” she said, and he darted back into the room as if she’d caught him doing something wrong. She was walking back from the kitchen with a tray. On it were two sandwiches and their wineglasses. The smell of the meat made his stomach growl, and he coughed to hide the sound.

  Then she set it all down on her coffee table. She picked up half of her sandwich and he did the same. He took a bite, tasting the rare flesh, mayonnaise, and mustard. He tried to have good manners, chewing with his mouth closed, but he was ravenous.

  He swallowed it. She raised her brows. “Good?” she asked.

  Nodding, he took another bite, then chased it with his wine. A couple more bites, and the half-sandwich was gone. As he set down his wineglass, he saw that she’d only taken a couple of dainty nibbles, and he felt like a pig, rushing through his meal.

  He eyed the second half hungrily, but made no move to take it. She smiled and took another bite, then sipped her wine.

  Silence fell between them. He was hungry, agitated, and his body was humming with excitement. The thought of the juicy meat in her mouth excited him. Wouldn’t it be cool if they became a couple and he brought her home to meet the pack? Even better, what if she joined the pack? His Alpha—his father—could give her the Bite. Of course she would live through it. He pictured them running together beneath the full moon. He could imagine her fierce, proud howl as she sought her mate. Him. That would be amazing.

  Josh would be incredibly jealous. Having a mate would bring Derek status.

  Maybe she could get the Bite on Wolf Moon, he thought. That would be so awesome. She probably wouldn’t be ready that soon, but wouldn
’t it be great?

  She seemed to be taking forever to eat the first half of her sandwich, savoring every morsel. He felt kind of stupid sitting there, waiting for her to finish. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. How to sit. She’d invited him there. She’d wanted to get to know him better. But they weren’t even talking to each other.

  Then she was done, and he eagerly picked up the other half of his sandwich. He felt obvious and silly but he’d committed to waiting, and the wait was over. He sank his teeth into the meat. Thinking about Ms. Argent as a werewolf had excited him. He knew he had to be careful. Knew he couldn’t make the shift in front of her. At least, not yet.

  He would have to have his Alpha’s permission, and he would probably have to bring her to their underground chamber beneath their house, where she could watch him in contained safety. That was where the Hale werewolves went when it wasn’t okay to run in the woods. When there were too many humans, or when the young werewolves, like him, seemed especially volatile. He was sixteen, and he was finishing human puberty. When hormones were racing through him, turning him into a man, it was hard for him to stay in control.

  Sometimes the Alpha separated the young werewolf males from the rest of the pack if he thought that in their frenzy they might forget how young and untested they really were, and foolishly challenge him for dominance. That was a generous act on his dad’s part. He had heard of some packs where the Alpha deliberately tried to stir up the teenagers so he could get rid of them through a challenge—but those were dysfunctional packs.

  “I want to know all about you,” Ms. Argent said, breaking his reverie as he took another bite of sandwich. He realized that the entire time he had been devouring flesh, he had been staring at her. “Your favorite color, your lucky number, when your birthday is.” She daintily pressed a napkin against her lips. “Guess what my favorite color is.”

  Why did she have to ask him a question when his mouth was full? He chewed quickly, swallowed, and said, “Um, pink?”

  “Green.” She smiled and surveyed his face as if it were her marked territory. “Like your eyes. But there’s brown in them, too. At first I thought they might be blue. They’re very expressive.”