“It’s more than my hair. A lot more than my hair. It’s everything about me.”
“He won’t say a thing,” I promised. Max wouldn’t. As much as he blustered and bulled his way through life, he was careful around Amy.
Now.
“That’s almost worse,” she confessed. “Him noticing and not commenting.…” She thrust a hand out. “Gimme that.”
I handed over the brush and watched her fight and curse her way through the tangles and snarls. She caught my eyes at one point as she panted between tugging the brush through her red mane and paused in a particularly long string of curses. “I could make a sailor blush,” she proclaimed. Proudly.
I snorted and refused to ask what Cat would think of such a thing.
When Amy was done she seemed oddly satisfied. Like she’d just won a battle with herself. I hoped this one would be the first of many.
“How dark are the circles under my eyes?”
My mouth opened, and she just shook her head. “That bad?” She flopped forward, reaching under her bed, and dragged out her purse to fumble for concealer.
“Don’t,” I said as she untwisted its cap. “It’s okay for him to see. It’s better if he knows.”
She blinked and swallowed once, then twice, and shakily put the cap back on, tucking it all away again. “I guess all that’s over anyhow.”
“What? What’s over?” I joined her on the bed, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and gently giving her a squeeze, doing my best to ignore the way her body still stiffened at anyone’s—even my—touch.
“Him seeing me … that way.” She shook her head, red hair cascading around to cover her face.
“What way?”
“As pretty—as sexy.” She croaked out the last word, her spine going loose as she leaned against me.
I propped her up.
“No,” I returned. “Max is a dork sometimes, but he’s not an idiot. He’s not done seeing the sexy side of you.… I think you’re the one who’s struggling with it, and that’s okay.”
She sniffled and rubbed at her suddenly running nose. “Oh, god,” she said, sucking in a breath, “I’m getting even more disgusting.…”
“Stop it,” I demanded, giving her a little shake. “You’re having more of a problem with this than Max is.”
She pulled back and I struggled to unwedge my foot from my mouth. “As you should. I mean, it only makes sense.…” I groaned. “Don’t give up. Not yet. Max cares enough about you to show you who he really is—was … Hell. You know what I mean. That level of honesty: the hey-by-the-way-I’m-a-werewolf level of honesty? The when-they-say-he’s-a-sexy-beast-they-mean-it-in-more-than-one-way level of honesty? That’s huge.” I stroked her hair with a trembling hand. “Don’t give up on Max. And don’t you dare give up on you.” I let go of her and stood. “Now get up.”
“What?” She looked up at me, her hair falling across her face and obscuring all but a few bits of her damp eyes.
“Get up,” I commanded. “We have a snowball battle to fight. To win. And I say we take no frikkin’ prisoners.”
She pulled the hair out of her eyes and back from her face, tying it up in a crisp ponytail with practiced hands. “Fine. I’ll pull my ass out of the dumps for a while. Just. For. You,” she emphasized.
“Geez. That’s all I was asking,” I teased, rolling my eyes. “Let’s go. Cat wants to teach Max humility.”
“Is that even possible?” Amy mused. “Have you explained to Cat the concept of setting achievable goals?”
I laughed and together we climbed the stairs, shrugged into our coats, pulled on our boots and gloves, and prepared for a battle.
Of epic proportions.
CHAPTER SIX
Marlaena
I shifted forms to start the campfire. Though I reveled in the wolf, the human bits of me didn’t always stomach what the wolf greedily gulped down. Not that there was much food to have, I thought, looking at the squirrel we’d dug out of a rotting tree and the assortment of nuts that had been stashed by it.
Beth changed, too, seeing the way I retained parts of my wolfskin to appear human except for an amazingly well-fitted fur suit. She mimicked me, adjusting the sleeve length, neckline, and midriff for a more modest look. She might have been the youngest of our crew, having only turned seventeen a month before we found her outside Chicago, but she was a fast learner. As long as she remembered her place in the pack, she’d stay.
But if anyone ever forgot their place …
My gaze settled on Gabe. “We can’t stay here. We need a better den.” I focused on my index finger and watched my fingernail pinch together and sharpen into a claw. Knowing we were all desperate to eat every bit of it, I gutted the squirrel and skewered it on a pointed stick.
Debra nosed a flat rock to the fire’s edge, and I dumped the guts onto it to sizzle as it warmed by the fire.
Gabriel rose and sniffed the air.
“Have a bite, then go,” I ordered. “We want better than this. We need better than this.”
He nodded, and we all scooted closer to the fire and the scent of roasting meat.
Jessie
Pietr had begun constructing a snow fort by the time Amy and I stepped off the back porch. He hadn’t gotten far—probably his overthinking of the structural integrity of its architecture (instead of just slamming snow together) took its toll.
Snow still fluttered down around the house, big soft flakes like fat feathers falling from the sky.
Amy and I were barely off the lowest step when Max charged us, hurling snowballs as Cat screamed from her position near the tree and frantically returned fire to cover our stunned advance.
Pietr watched, dumbstruck, and I scooped and balled snow, throwing as fast as I could.
And loving it.
“Pietr!” I screamed.
“Man-up, Jessie!” Max shouted.
Pietr lobbed a snowball at him, and Max staggered back at the impact. Cat pelted him with a few, shrieking each time she tossed one and Max yelped and dodged away, keeping the tree between his sister and himself as he returned fire.
Amy screamed, balling snow as fast as she could and tossing snowballs indiscriminately at everyone.
Except Max.
“Hey!” I protested. And got a loosely packed snowball to the thigh in response. “Whose side are you on?”