Chapter 9
The next week should have been impossible.
Instead, Jake had a chemistry test.
There was something insulting about discovering supernatural bloodlines and still being expected to calculate molar mass.
Noah sat beside him.
Jake whispered, “What did you get for six?”
“Stop cheating.”
“I’m not cheating. I’m comparing.”
“You haven’t written an answer.”
“Comparing future possibilities.”
Noah covered his paper.
Jake grinned.
Mrs. Alvarez looked up.
“Mr. Miller.”
“Yes?”
“Would you like to take your test somewhere else?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Then stop flirting with Mr. Bennett.”
The entire class went silent.
Jake stopped breathing.
Noah’s ears turned red.
Someone behind them snorted.
Mrs. Alvarez returned to grading papers as if she had not detonated a bomb.
Jake slowly looked at Noah.
Noah kept his eyes on his test.
Jake whispered, “She thinks we’re flirting.”
“We were.”
Jake’s brain stalled.
Noah finally looked over.
One corner of his mouth lifted.
Jake forgot question six existed.
By lunch, Marcus had heard.
Of course he had.
“So.”
“No.”
“I didn’t ask anything.”
“You were going to.”
Marcus sat across from Jake.
Noah sat beside him.
“So,” Marcus repeated.
Jake pointed his fork.
“Don’t.”
Marcus looked at Noah.
“Are you two dating?”
Noah choked on his drink.
Jake said, “No.”
Too quickly.
Marcus raised both eyebrows.
Noah wiped his mouth.
“We’re not.”
“Okay.”
Marcus ate a fry.
Jake waited.
Marcus said nothing.
“That’s it?”
“Yep.”
“You believe us?”
“Nope.”
Noah laughed.
Jake looked betrayed.
“You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I’m on the side with fries.”
The hunter returned Friday.
Not Thomas.
A woman.
Jake smelled the same bitter-metal scent near the stadium before kickoff.
Noah smelled it too.
They found each other beneath the bleachers without speaking.
“Woman,” Noah said.
“Red coat?”
“You saw her?”
“Parking lot.”
Noah looked impressed.
Jake hated that he enjoyed impressing him.
“Your senses are getting stronger.”
“Yesterday I heard my mother mutter about me from the basement.”
“What did she say?”
“That I need to learn how to load a dishwasher.”
Noah smiled.
“She’s right.”
“You’ve lived with us eight days and already betrayed me.”
“I loaded it twice.”
“You’re making me look bad.”
“You do that yourself.”
Jake leaned against a support beam.
Above them, feet thundered across aluminum.
Noah stood opposite him.
The space between them felt different now.
Ever since the shed.
Ever since mates.
Neither had said the word again.
Jake hated unsaid things.
“So.”
Noah groaned.
“What?”
“Are we going to talk about it?”
“About the hunter?”
“You know what.”
Noah looked away.
Jake stepped closer.
“You said you don’t want an old story deciding how I feel.”
“I don’t.”
“Good.”
Jake moved closer again.
“Because I liked you before you told me.”
Noah looked at him.
“You did?”
“You were naked when we met. It gave you an unfair advantage.”
Noah laughed.
“I was unconscious.”
“Still.”
“You’re impossible.”
“I’ve been told.”
Noah’s smile faded into something softer.
“I liked you too.”
Jake’s chest tightened.
“When?”
“When you gave me the hoodie.”
“That fast?”
“No.”
“When?”
Noah hesitated.
“When you asked before touching me.”
Jake remembered behind the auditorium.
“That's depressing.”
Noah frowned.
“Why?”
“Because basic decency shouldn’t be impressive.”
For a second Noah said nothing.
Then: “Maybe not. It was anyway.”
Jake stepped into his space.
Noah did not move away.
“You growling yet?”
“No.”
Jake leaned closer.
A low vibration answered from Noah’s chest.
Jake grinned.
“Liar.”
Noah grabbed the front of Jake’s jacket.
Jake’s grin disappeared.
“Can I kiss you?” Noah asked.
Jake had imagined this moment approximately four hundred times.
None of those versions included him answering:
“You better.”
So Noah did.
It was not graceful.
Their noses bumped.
Jake laughed into Noah’s mouth.
Noah laughed too.
Then they tried again.
Slower.
Jake’s hands settled at Noah’s waist.
Noah’s fingers tightened in Jake’s jacket.
The kiss deepened only enough to make Jake forget the football game, the hunters, and possibly his own last name.
Noah pulled back first.
His forehead rested against Jake’s.
Jake whispered, “Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“Do all werewolves kiss like that?”
Noah groaned.
Jake smiled.
“Had to ask.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
Noah kissed him again.
Shorter.
Certain.
“No,” he said. “I really don’t.”
Something clicked in the darkness.
Both boys froze.
Not a branch.
Metal.
Noah pushed Jake behind him.
A silver dart struck the support beam where Jake’s chest had been.
“RUN!”
They ran.
The woman in the red coat emerged from beneath the opposite stairs.
Jake saw another dart launcher in her hand.
He also saw something he had never noticed before.
She was afraid.
Jake could smell it.
Not of Noah.
Of him.
The woman stared directly at Jake.
Then touched an earpiece.
“It’s confirmed,” she said.
Jake stopped.
Noah grabbed him.
“What?”
Jake heard her next words from thirty feet away.
“The Miller boy is awake.”
Noah’s face changed.
Jake stared at the woman.
Not changing.
Not infected.
Not turning.
Awake.
As if the hunters had been waiting for him long before Noah ever came to West Ridge.