Chapter 4
Jake did not let go of Noah’s wrist.
The man outside the classroom smiled at Mrs. Henson as she passed him in the hallway. He looked like somebody’s father coming in to argue about a grade. Khakis. Dark jacket. Clean shoes.
Nothing about him said I chase naked teenagers through the woods with enchanted silver.
That somehow made him worse.
“What do we do?” Jake whispered.
“Nothing.”
“That’s your plan?”
“Right now? Yes.”
The hunter glanced through the narrow window.
Jake looked down at his notebook.
Noah did the same.
Mr. Bell was explaining judicial review.
Jake had never cared more about judicial review in his life.
The classroom door opened.
Every muscle in Noah’s arm tightened beneath Jake’s hand.
“Sorry to interrupt,” the man said pleasantly. “I’m looking for the main office.”
Mr. Bell pointed down the hall.
“Other direction. Take a left at the trophy case.”
“Appreciate it.”
The man’s gaze moved across the room.
It paused on Jake.
Then Noah.
One second.
Maybe two.
His smile never changed.
“Have a good morning.”
The door closed.
Jake waited until the footsteps faded.
“He knows.”
Noah nodded.
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“Could he smell you?”
“No.”
“You can smell him?”
Noah’s expression darkened.
“Metal. Smoke. Something bitter.”
Jake looked at his hand.
He was still holding Noah’s wrist.
He released it.
“Sorry.”
Noah rubbed the place Jake had touched.
“You don’t have to apologize.”
Something about the way he said it made Jake’s face warm.
He looked away.
This was an exceptionally inconvenient time to notice Noah had nice hands.
At lunch, Noah vanished.
Jake found him behind the auditorium.
“You have got to stop disappearing.”
Noah spun around.
“You followed me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s a werewolf hunter wandering around my school pretending he can’t find an office with twelve signs pointing toward it.”
Noah looked toward the doors.
“He’s testing us.”
“For what?”
“To see if I run.”
“So don’t.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
Jake stepped closer.
“No, it isn’t. He saw me too.”
Noah’s jaw tightened.
“That’s why you need to stay away from me.”
“Again with that.”
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
“You don’t understand what these people do.”
“Then tell me.”
Noah looked furious.
Not at Jake.
At himself.
“They don’t just kill us.”
Jake stopped.
“What does that mean?”
“They take people alive when they can.”
“For what?”
Noah’s voice dropped.
“Blood. Study. Breeding. Whatever their families convince themselves is necessary to keep controlling something they’re afraid of.”
Jake felt sick.
“They did that to your family?”
“My grandfather disappeared when my mother was twelve.”
“Noah—”
“They sent his wedding ring back.”
Jake had no joke for that.
Noah turned away.
Jake reached for him, then stopped before touching his shoulder.
“Can I?”
Noah looked back.
Jake nodded toward his shoulder.
After a moment, Noah nodded.
Jake rested his hand there.
The tension in Noah’s body did not disappear.
But it changed.
“You’re really weird about permission,” Noah said.
Jake frowned. “Is that bad?”
“No.”
“Then why say it?”
“Because most people just grab.”
Jake’s hand fell.
Noah caught it before he could pull away.
For a second they stood there behind the auditorium holding hands like neither of them understood how it had happened.
Jake looked down.
Noah let go first.
“Still not flirting?” Jake asked.
Noah’s mouth twitched.
“Shut up.”
The afternoon got stranger.
Jake heard Coach Danner shouting before he reached the locker room.
Not from outside it.
From halfway down the science hallway.
He stopped walking.
Marcus nearly hit him from behind.
“Move.”
Jake held up a hand.
Coach’s voice was unmistakable.
Miller missed Monday. If he dogs practice today, second string.
Another voice answered.
Jake could not make out every word.
He started walking again.
Marcus stared at him.
“What?”
“Coach is pissed.”
“He’s always pissed.”
“No. About me.”
Marcus shrugged. “Probably.”
Jake stopped again.
“How did I hear that?”
“Hear what?”
Jake looked toward the locker room.
It was on the other side of the building.
Practice confirmed that something was wrong.
Jake caught a pass he should not have caught.
The ball came high and behind him. He twisted, jumped, and somehow knew exactly where it would be before he saw it.
His fingers closed around the football.
He landed.
Everyone stared.
Coach blew his whistle.
“Miller!”
Jake jogged over.
“Where the hell has that been?”
“Food poisoning?”
Coach stared at him.
“Do it again.”
Jake did.
Then again.
By the fifth impossible catch, Jake was scared.
His body felt different.
Not stronger exactly.
More awake.
Every smell on the field separated itself from the others: cut grass, rubber, sweat, dirt, somebody’s terrible body spray.
And beneath all of it—
Noah.
Jake turned.
Noah stood beyond the fence.
Watching him.
Jake could smell him from fifty yards away.
Jake missed the next pass because he was staring.
The football hit him directly in the chest.
Marcus laughed so hard he bent over.
Coach shouted something anatomically impossible.
Jake barely heard either of them.
Noah was already walking away.
Jake finished practice early by claiming his stomach was still questionable.
Coach wanted no details.
Five minutes later Jake found Noah near the tree line.
“You smell different.”
Jake stopped.
“That is becoming your least attractive habit.”
“I’m serious.”
“You keep saying that right before sniffing me.”
Noah stepped closer.
Jake’s heart sped up.
Noah noticed.
Of course he noticed.
“You hear better,” Noah said.
Jake’s smile disappeared.
“How do you know?”
“You turned toward Coach before anyone else could hear him.”
“You saw that?”
“I saw everything.”
Jake swallowed.
Noah came another step closer.
“What do I smell like?”
Jake wished he had not asked.
Noah’s eyes met his.
“Like rain.”
“That’s disappointingly normal.”
“Pine.”
“We’re beside a forest.”
“Jake.”
“What?”
Noah hesitated.
“Like me.”