I was glad to escape the cloying truck interior. I hadn’t realized how strong the wet dog smell had become until I sucked in a breath of exhaust-tinged air. Cal must be really worried about something.
Maybe he had a test today? We all had final exams next week, our last scholarly obligation before graduating, but some of the teachers were squeezing our brains dry with last minute tests and quizzes. Sadists.
I squeezed Cal’s hand and bumped hips. That brought a grin to his lips and the wet dog smell diminished.
Cal is much better at keeping his wolf under wraps than just a few months ago. He’s gained an amazing amount of control over his wolf spirit since that horrible night last fall. I still shudder when I remember just how close he came to having his secret discovered because of my actions. I know that it wasn't my fault. My brain accepts that, but my heart rebels.
It had all happened at the homecoming dance, a night that should have been a fun escape from smelly ghosts and looming Samhain worries. Without yet knowing my power to call Cal's wolf through dance, I strode out onto the dance floor and stomped out some killer moves. They were nearly killer in a very bad way. Calling Cal's wolf caused him to transform—risking potential violence, exposing his secret, and jeopardizing the pack’s safety.
It was the worst night of my life. Considering how terrifying Samhain was, that's saying a lot. With Emma’s help, we managed to sneak Cal out of the school dance, into her car, and to the cabin behind Cal’s house. Unfortunately, shapeshifting werewolves don’t travel well inside moving vehicles. Cal broke his arm, but it could have been much worse. We were lucky.
After that night, Simon began training Cal to control his wolf and helped me to understand my connection with the dead, with Cal’s wolf spirit, and with my spirit guide. None of us wanted another night like the homecoming dance. But controlling a strong wolf spirit isn’t easy, and Cal has more stress than most guys his age. As alpha he has responsibilities to his pack, something I know he worries about. He also, like me, had to survive these last weeks of high school. It’s amazing he doesn’t turn furry, like, every five minutes.
Cal’s newfound control and easy smile were both monumental. Too bad I couldn’t celebrate by kissing those luscious grinning lips.
Instead, I turned my attention to the social battlefield. It wouldn’t pay to be distracted when threats like the J-team could be lurking inside any one of the cars parked between us and the school entrance. Walking across the parking lot set my teeth on edge. The jingling of my multi-buckled boots, chain bracelets, and protection charms attracted attention. I met each stare with a brittle smile. Thank the gods I don’t have to do this much longer.
Usually, I can skip across the pavement like I have springs in the soles of my stompy boots and helium balloons attached to my black beribboned hair. But now there were chinks in my emotional armor, and I had no idea how to repair the fissures.
My heart, always so strong in the past, was like the fishnet stockings that clung to my legs—torn, shredded, and full of gaping holes.