Blood Bond (19 page)

My face flushed with the effort of trying to
answer. Guilt and frustration flooded me.

“This,” I said, biting off
the word. “This right here, helping you, making sure you
live
. This makes me
happy.”

“This makes me happy too. Come here.” He
reached over, and I let him pull me down next to him. I curled into
his side and his arm curved around, cradling me. “Can I ask you
something?” he asked.

I stared at a water spot on the ceiling,
trying to steady my thoughts. “Depends. Is it a new subject?”

His chest shook with light laughter. “Yes.
Your cheerleader comment—what did you mean, you did it for me?”

I smiled a little, which was proof at how
far we’d come, George and I. “It was around the time I decided to
pursue my feelings for you, or pursue you, I should say. I saw you
around other girls and I thought—I thought you only liked a certain
type of girl.”

“And you thought that type only included
cheerleaders?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.”

“Was I that shallow?”

“No, you weren’t. I was. Looking back, I
wasn’t confident in who I was. I thought I needed to be someone
else to make you like me. Which is silly because I never felt that
way when we were just friends.”

“It’s not silly. I felt that way too
sometimes.”

“You did?” I couldn’t help but feel
surprised.

“Sometimes, when you’d talk about a book you
read or an article about something interesting, I’d feel completely
out of the loop. And completely unworthy. You’re so smart, full of
ideas and opinions, and I didn’t have much of either to offer. I
wondered if you ever noticed or felt like something was
lacking.”

“I never felt that way.”

He shrugged. I know that, I mean, logically,
but it crept in a few times. So I get it.”

The conversation faded. I lay there,
enjoying the comfort he provided.

“I’m really glad we’re friends again,” I
said. I didn’t say the rest out loud, that we were so much better
friends than we’d been as boyfriend and girlfriend.

“Yeah,” he agreed, and I had a feeling it
was for both the spoken and the unspoken sentiment. “Get some
sleep,” he whispered.

He hit the volume on the remote and the
sportscaster’s voice began droning on about football camps and team
negotiations. George was right. I needed to sleep. I wanted to be
on the road before the sun came up. I twisted my head so I could
see the screen and forced myself to focus on the man’s voice. Soon,
the monotony became white noise and I felt my lids begin to
close.

George’s shoulders shook, startling me.
“Sports Center always does the trick.”

I smiled and fell asleep.

*

At Nashville, we went northwest into
Missouri and across Kansas. By the following night we’d made it
into a town called Colby where the interstate and county highway
intersected. The single stoplight was a good indication we were
still off the beaten path enough to avoid detection. I found a neon
sign identical to the one from the previous night, and pulled into
the near-empty lot of the roadside motel.

Momma’s
Kitchen
, the restaurant across the street,
advertised today’s special as fried chicken and mashed potatoes.
Several eighteen-wheelers decorated the lot.

“I’m starving,” George said, hurrying to get
the seat belt off.

“Let’s get a room and then we’ll eat.”

George opened his mouth as if to answer—and
snarled.

My eyes widened and we both froze.
Instantly, George’s face contorted from the angry snarl to shock
and remorse.

“What just happened?” he asked.

“You snarled at me.” I stared at him, trying
to gauge what was behind his calm exterior. “How do you feel?”

“Hungry. Starving, actually. I think that’s
why I’m so cranky. Sorry about that.”

“George, you snarled. That’s more than
cranky.” I rebuckled my seat belt and started the engine.

“What are you doing?”

“Leaving. I’m not taking you into a motel,
or a restaurant full of innocent people.”

“I guess that’s smart.” He leaned his head
back against the headrest. “Can we at least drive-through somewhere
for a burger?”

I nodded, trying to get the sound of that
snarl out of my mind. It continued to echo long after we’d devoured
a bag of burgers and left Colby, Kansas, behind.

*

“Tara, wake up.”

I came awake slowly, blinking against the
blaring sunlight as it slanted through the windshield.

“What time is it?” I mumbled.

“Two forty,” George said, verifying the time
on the dashboard. “You were out for a while.”

“You should’ve woken me sooner. I can drive
again.” I hated letting George drive, but he’d finally worn me down
somewhere around Utah. I couldn’t drive on no sleep, and I was too
afraid to stop. We’d parked and slept in the car at a rest stop
once but George had complained it was such a waste of time. He
insisted he wasn’t tired at all. I wasn’t even sure the last time
he’d slept. That worried me, but so far, he’d kept a human frame,
and he hadn’t snarled again.

“I need to know which road to take,” he
said.

I looked around, trying to get my bearing,
and reached for the map on the floorboard. “Where are we?”

“The sign back there said we just left Great
Basin National Park.” I looked at him blankly. “Nevada,” he
added.

I sat up straighter and rubbed my eyes.
“We’re in Nevada already? Geez, George, how fast are you going?” I
caught sight of the speedometer and winced.

George laughed. “It’s fine. I haven’t seen a
single cop. I can see a lot farther than I could yesterday,
especially since everything’s so flat here.”

He was right, at least about the landscape.
In the distance, the purple haze of mountains rose against the
horizon, but here, and for miles ahead, the highway stretched flat
and infinite. Ours was the only vehicle in sight. I tried not to
think about the other reason his vision had sharpened.

A sign up ahead advertised a junction for
routes 93, 50, and 6. I scanned the map I’d used to mark our route.
“You want Route 93,” I told him.

He veered left and took the exit for the new
highway.

“Your mom called while you were sleeping,”
he said.

Something about his expression made me
pause. “Did you answer it?”

“Would you be mad if I said yes?”

“George! She’s not supposed to know you’re
with me.”

“I pretended to be Alex,” he said, “but she
knew it was me. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her anything about where
we were.”

I glared at him. “What did she say?”

“She knows you’re not with Alex. They all
do.”

I bit my lip. I’d known they’d figure it out
sooner or later. I’d just hoped it was later. As in, we’d be there
already. I checked the map, calculating. “We should be there in a
couple of hours,” I said. “Did she say anything else?”

“She sounded pretty pissed off. And worried.
She asked how I was feeling. I told her I feel great, because I do.
For some reason, that made it worse.”

“Of course it did. It means you’re going to
change soon and that she knows all about it. I can’t believe you
answered. We agreed two days ago that we wouldn’t answer, remember?
What if she has some way to triangulate the call or something?”

He chuckled. “You watch way too many
movies.”

“You don’t know my grandma. What else did
she say?”

“That she’s worried. Your mom called Alex to
check on you and he spilled the beans. I guess she basically
threatened to kill Cambria if she didn’t tell them where you
were.”

“And did she? Tell them, I mean?”

George glanced at me. “What would you
do?”

I sat back. “They know.”

“You think?” His tone was sarcastic.

“Has Wes called?”

“No.”

That worried me. I’d been expecting a call
hours ago. I was too afraid to call him, scared I’d interrupt a
secret meeting or ruin his cover. Something in the road caught my
attention and I bolted upright in my seat. George was fumbling with
the iPod again. It took me a moment to find my voice.

“
George, look
out!”

He whipped his head around and slammed on
the brake.

Up ahead, straddling the yellow lines
marking the center of the road stood a man and a woman.

“What the hell? Move!” George eased up on
the brake to keep the car from fishtailing. The man and woman
didn’t move as we careened closer. They stood shoulder to shoulder,
staring straight at us, no expression on their faces. I squeezed my
eyes shut as I braced myself for impact.

None came.

A moment later the car skidded smoothly to a
stop. I opened my eyes. The road in front of us was empty. I
whirled and stared out the back windshield. I could see the skid
marks left by the tires, but no man, no woman.

I looked back at George. He was watching me
with an odd expression.

I glanced down at myself, trying to figure
out what he was looking at, and caught sight of my hands. Fur, soft
and thin, like down on a puppy, covered the back of arms and
trailed down my fingers. My nails, which had been rounded and
clear, were sharpened to points. I screamed, shoved open my door,
and ran.

George was on me in three seconds.

We went down in a tangle of limbs. My claws
scratched at George’s bare arms as he wrestled me still. “It’s
okay, it’s okay,” he repeated against my ear. He folded himself
around me, his hands gripping my wrists hard enough to cut off
blood flow. I forced myself to stop struggling against him.

“This isn’t happening,” I said, only now
realizing I was sobbing.

George held me without a word. By the time I
quieted, his shirt was streaked with tears and I was out of breath.
I pulled back and stole a glance at my hands. The soft fur had
disappeared; in its place was smooth skin, rounded nails.

“You want to tell me what just happened?”
George asked when I’d managed to sit up.

I pulled my knees into my chest, blinking
back the last of the tears, and looked around.

“They’re gone,” he said, answering the
question before I could ask. “Now tell me what the hell just
happened to you.”

“I told you before, I’m turning.”

“
I know what you said, but
seeing it … So, you can be either one?”

“It’s slightly more complicated than that.”
I gave him the quick version about how my inner wolf had only
recently decided to emerge, with no real way to control or contain
it. “I think Jack or Wes said something once about having both
inside me, but that my Hunter side was more dominant than the wolf.
I guess that’s not the case anymore.”

“But you don’t know?”

“It’s not like there’s a whole lot of
precedent for this sort of thing.”

“What about Wes? Isn’t he both?”

“Yes, but his wolf side was already
dominant, and as for a Hunter,” I shrugged, “how would he tell if
that side was taking over, except that he felt strong and fast in a
fight, or extra-sensitive to a nearby Werewolf? He already feels
all of those things simply from being a Werewolf.”

“I don’t understand, though. Why is it so
bad if you shift? Wes is a wolf. A lot of your friends are. I will
be. Is the idea so revolting?”

“It’s not that. If I’d been born with the
ability, I’d be fine with it. It’s the fact that it’s happening
now. I shouldn’t be able to shift like this and if I can—” I
stopped, drew a breath. “If I can, it means all of those things
Vera thinks about me are true. I’m different, special. And I have
no idea what to do with that. I just wish I knew how to control
it.”

“That couple in the road, the ones from your
school, I think they triggered it somehow.”

“You recognized them?”

“I saw them in the clinic at Wood Point.
They were unconscious. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with
them. What do you think they wanted?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you know them?” he asked.

I nodded, suddenly exhausted. “Their names
are Douglas and Sandra Lexington. They’re hybrids.”

“How did they get out here? I thought they
were at Wood Point, or with your people or whatever.”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense,
but I know it was them. They’ve been reported missing for a few
weeks, but CHAS had to know Kane had them in the infirmary that
night.”

“Do you think they escaped?”

“Maybe.” I shivered. It was cooling down
with the coming evening.

“We should get going,” George said, pulling
me to my feet.

“George, before we go, and no matter what
happens when we get there, I want to say thanks.”

“Thanks for what?”

“For listening and—”

He held up a hand. “Wait.”

“What is it?”

He shushed me and scanned the darkening
desert. A few yards away sat the car, still parked on the shoulder,
the passenger door hanging open the way I’d left it. No other cars
had passed by since we’d been here. George was silent a minute
longer, slowly turning side to side to take in our surroundings. I
did the same, but there wasn’t much to see. A few patches of
sagebrush cropped up here and there where the dirt became heavier
than the grainy sand. There was no sign of water, greenery, or more
importantly, cover for an enemy.

“Did you hear that?” he asked.

“What?” I strained to pick up something,
anything, but there was only wind.

“I don’t know. It was more a feeling than a
sound, but I swear it was—there,” he hissed, jerking around to face
the desert stretching out before us. He squinted into the grayness.
“Something’s out there.”

“I don’t feel anything.” As soon as I said
it, faint goosebumps washed over me. “I take that back. Werewolf,
let’s go.” I grabbed George’s wrist and marched toward the car.