Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
No humans come here anymore. It doesn’t show up on any map. Alpha Green somehow arranged for the pack to buy this park from the city of Wolf Ridge years ago.
“Was it a playground?” She takes in the old rusty swing set, merry-go-round and teeter totter.
“Yep. An old one. Hasn’t been used since the 70s. I don’t know why they didn’t remove the equipment. It’s probably uber-dangerous.” I plunk down on one of the swings to prove how much I love danger.
She sits on the one beside me and pushes with her feet to make it sway.
I climb off mine and grab her waist, pulling her back. “Maybe they didn’t have these things in Colorado.” I speak slowly, like I’m explaining something profound. “But you actually swing with them.” I push her hips, sending her sailing high into the air.
She shrieks a little, but laughs. “Jesus, you’re strong.”
Oops. I make a note to dial back the shifter strength.
Nah, fuck it. Why not show off a little?
I push her again, sending the chains of the swing so high they’re parallel to the ground.
She screams when she catches a little air before falling back into the seat.
I chuckle.
We stay like that for a while—me pushing, her soaring through the air, hanging on to the swing for dear life. I didn’t think this through, but now that we’re here, I’m glad. It feels right.
After a while, I stop pushing and let the momentum die.
I stroll over to the merry-go-round. “Ever been on one of these?”
She shakes her head.
“I’m not surprised. They outlawed them long before we were born. Way too dangerous. And all of this shit made out of metal? I bet a whole lot of kids in the 70s were covered in third degree burns in the summer.”
“Oh my God, you’re right. It’s way too hot in Arizona for metal equipment.” She hops off the swing and comes toward me.
I hold out my hand and help her onto the wobbly metal saucer. “Ready?”
“I doubt it,” she says, but a smile plays around her lips. I’m so fucking relieved to see it there, I just smile back.
I’ve forgotten all the animosity between us. My need to punish her. It’s not that I still don’t want to master her—I do.
It’s more that I want her whole when I succeed.
“Hang on,” I warn before giving the handlebars a shove. The equipment is rusty, so it takes me a while to get it going, but once I do, I put a little shifter strength into it and the wheel flies around.
Bailey screams, her long dark hair flying around her face, her eyes wide.
I want to kiss her.
I won’t. Not today. Definitely not after what she’s been through. But I want to own that pouty mouth. Want to taste those lips, shove my tongue deep and make her take it the way I want to give it.
But with her fucking consent.
My fists tighten thinking about Brumgard again. I’m already regretting not killing him.
“Let me off, let me off,” Pink wails and I slap the bars to slow them down, then grab one and jog around with it until it stops. Bailey holds her belly like she’s going to barf.
“Sorry. Too much?” I put a hand on her back. I literally feel the shiver run through her. Or maybe that was the sparks that came through in my hand.
I’m suddenly acutely aware of everything Bailey: her hitched breath, her cinnamon and honey scent, the strands of hair flying across her face.
I smooth them back and she stares up at me. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
I crash into the vulnerability in her eyes. Something shifts in my chest. Guilt, perhaps—I don’t know. Maybe something else. I drown in her warm brown gaze, studying the golden and green flecks. I have to look away. “I don’t know.”
It’s an honest answer. I really can’t explain why I flipped from tormentor to protector in the blink of an eye. And I know it won’t last. I’ll take her home and tomorrow we’ll wake up enemies again.
And I’m not going to admit that’s part of why I haven’t taken her home yet.
I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her. “Listen. What happened back at the school”—I pull one hand out and jerk my thumb in the direction of Wolf Ridge High—“is your thing. I won’t talk about it unless you ask me. Whatever you want to do with it is fine.”
“Thanks.” I hear relief in her voice, and I know I said the right thing.
“I’ll be a witness if you want to press charges. If you want to go to Mr. Olsen and get him fired. Otherwise, I won’t tell a soul. If you don’t want your shit dragged all over this town, I get that, too.”