that guy?'
Still, she didn't deny it, didn't confirm it. Didn't say anything.
It was going to happen. I could feel it, a charge in the air, our glares colliding. My blood rushed; I could feel my pulse pounding in my brain. My throat was tight, holding back a growl. She closed her hands, preparing.
Then Carl stepped between us. 'I won't let you do this. Stand down, Kitty. Now.'
'And why should I listen to you? Where were you all those times people tried to kill me? You're useless, Carl! I don't owe you anything!'
Carl took a couple of steps toward me. His posture was stiff, arms slightly bent, ready to swing fists.
However much I wanted to back away, I held my ground. Even my Wolf didn't cringe at his approach. Even she was too angry.
'I don't want to fight you,' I said, my voice tight. 'Let me challenge her, Carl. I thought you wanted me to challenge her.'
He paused, glancing over his shoulder.
With a calculating look and a thin smile, Meg turned her gaze away from me. She stepped toward Carl, touched his back, and put her face against his shoulder. She glanced at me from the shelter of his body, then closed her eyes and rubbed her cheek down his shoulder, holding his arm, clinging to him.
She showed herself submissive to him. She put herself in his power; then, it followed, he would protect her. She was asking him to fight her fight.
My jaw opened, disbelieving. 'Were you always this much of a bitch?'
That was a stupid question.
'I know my place,' she said. Slowly, she crouched, until she was kneeling at Carl's feet. She gripped his leg, pressing her face to his thigh.
And Carl, insecure dominant that he was, fell for it. He swelled, appearing to grow a few inches in all directions as he puffed out his chest and cocked his arms, preparing to fight.
Oh, please.
'Come on, Carl,' I said. 'She's putting on an act. She's scared that I might actually have a chance against her.'
'You challenge my mate, you fight me.'
'And what about everything she's done? Giving the photos to Arturo, sending Zan after me—and that doesn't even touch on what she did to James. She wanted to kill you! Why protect her after all that?'
'She hasn't said she was behind James.'
'She hasn't denied it.'
We both looked at her. I might get out of this yet.
Meg, contrite as a Catholic schoolgirl, bowing her head so her hair fell across her face, said, 'James was a mistake. It'll never happen again. I'm sorry.'
That was ultimately why I could never take Meg's place at Carl's side. I couldn't grovel like that. At least, not anymore. Carl needed someone who would grovel at his feet.
The sun finally dipped behind the hills. Everything turned to shadow. The sky was darkening to that rich, twilight blue of velvet, of dreams. This was the Elfland blue that Dunsany described. It made me feel like I could take a step and be in another world, a magic place where nothing hurt. Where no one hurt another. Or where the adventures someone had were symbolic and meaningful, leading to enlightenment, adulthood, or at the very least a nice treasure. Maybe a talking goose.
I'd seen plenty of magic in my world. None of it impressed me a whole lot.
I shrugged. 'Well, Carl. You're free to stand by her. Just as long as you know what she really is.'
I was ready for him when he sprang at me.
Chapter 12
Carl jumped at me, hands out, fingers spread, ready to grab me around the neck. I ducked and rolled. Technically, I'd learned all these fancy moves that would topple a charging opponent, use the momentum of a larger assailant against him, allow me to swing him headfirst into the ground at my feet. Those moves worked a lot better in the gymnasium with floor mats and time to practice.
As it was, I only managed to roll out of the reach of his arms. I grabbed for him, snagging the cuffs of his jeans. He stumbled, but didn't fall. Scrambling on all fours, I put distance between us, turned and faced him, crouching, waiting.
Carl didn't seem to be in a hurry. Pulling his shirt off, baring his sculpted, powerful chest, he circled me, making a rumbling noise in his throat.
I would do a lot better as a wolf, with claws and teeth and fewer inhibitions. But if I took the time to shape- shift, he'd attack.
Maybe I didn't have to shift all the way. I could let a little bit of Wolf bleed over, gain enough advantage to hold my own. My growl started. I'd attack Carl first, then Meg.
Tensing, I acted like I was going to leap. I jerked forward and got a reaction from him. He rushed me like he thought we were going to crash together. He'd have won a head-on collision between us. But I ducked, again avoiding the force of his attack. He passed close by. I felt the heat of his blood, smelled the sweat beading on his body.
When I reached out to touch him, my claws were sprouting. I arched my fingers and brought my arm down hard, slashing him. I caught flesh and saw a splash of red.
He snarled, a sound like wood ripping, and writhed away from sudden pain. He wheeled, gained some distance, and clutched his side. I'd slashed the skin on his left side, under his rib cage. No telling how deep I'd cut. He looked more angry than hurt, his face grimacing in a snarl, his eyes blazing.
Then something grabbed my neck and hauled backward. Meg.
She held me in a headlock, her left arm pulling back on her right arm, which was braced across my neck. I gagged, choking while she crushed my throat. She dragged me until I was flat on my back, lying almost on top of her. She used all her strength to strangle me.
I slashed at her arms, reached back and tried to cut her face. In a panic now, I was having trouble keeping my shape. Fear made me want to melt, because Wolf could run away faster than I could. I struggled, both against her and myself, to break free of her, and to keep anchored to my body.
Her sugarcoated voice spoke by my ear. 'I think we're done now. Would you like to finish her off, or should I?' She looked up at Carl.
Carl's arms thickened, his claws growing. He came toward me. I had time to think about how stupid I'd been to not watch my back. To think I could face them both. That was what I got for winning a fight. Made me think I was some kind of fucking Caesar.
I kept clawing Meg's arms. Blood covered my hands; I was ripping her to shreds. But she didn't let go. She was going to hold me for as long as it took Carl to finish me off. I whined, however much I wanted not to.
My legs were still free. I'd kick him. I'd fight for as long as I could.
Then Carl froze, his head tipped back. A shadow had appeared, broken away from the growing darkness to stand at his side.
T.J. held Carl's neck. His nails—too thick to be nails, they were almost claws—dug into the larger man's neck. All T.J. had to do was squeeze, pull, and he'd rip out Carl's throat. He was naked, like he'd shifted back from wolf recently. He said he was going to the hills. He must not have gotten too far. He'd come back.
He said, 'Let her go, Meg. Or we both lose.'
She let up some of the pressure on my neck. Not enough for me to escape. But I could breathe a little easier.
'On the other hand,' she said. 'This could be an opportunity for both of us. We both finish our rivals here, and the pack is ours.'
Did she really hate Carl so much? What did he see in her, that would make him defend her? I knew the answer to that. I remembered: The first time I saw her, she was this wild goddess whose presence flared around
