Free Blood Bond by Heather Hildenbrand Page B

fray.
    “Tara, listen to me, deep breaths. You can
do this.” He came closer. “Are your fingers tingling?”
    “Is that bad?”
    “Shit.” He began pacing. Every few seconds
he’d throw a glance back toward the others and let out a whine.
    “Go,” I said. “Help fight.”
    “I’m not leaving until I know you’re not
going to shift.”
    “I’m holding it back,” I insisted.
    “Like hell. Listen to me, deep breaths in
and out. You’ve got to concentrate on something else. Something
that doesn’t raise your heart rate.”
    “Like what?”
    “I don’t know, just find something.”
    I thought of Wes and pictured his human
face. The way he’d looked earlier, smiling, sweet, bare-chested …
but that only reminded me of the kissing we’d done and how much I
hadn’t wanted to stop and while I didn’t want to kill anything, I
wasn’t relaxed, either.
    “Argh. Not that,” Wes said, obviously
reading the image in my mind. “Something else.”
    I searched for something else to grab onto.
George: too much worry and stress. My mother: stress. Alex: worry.
Stress.
    “Something else ,” Wes growled
impatiently.
    An image of Angela surfaced, calm and
collected, always-an-answer-for-everything Angela. One of two best
friends I’d been able to count on for support through anything,
until the day I’d learned what I was. I thought of her patience in
dealing with Sam and all of her dating escapades. Of the way she
handled teachers, fellow students, all of her clubs, everything
really. Her calm grace that seemed unshakable even under
overwhelming stresses. I did my best to channel that.
    Slowly, very slowly, my breathing evened
out.
    Wes shifted his weight. I ignored his
impatience and concentrated on breathing, on Angela.
    The fighting continued. The grunts and
growls were closer together now. And louder. I wasn’t sure what
that meant, but I didn’t have a good feeling. The hybrids weren’t
going to get tired, but we would.
    I paced back and forth, impatient to feel
whole again. At the edge of the brush, a pair of boots stuck out. I
rounded the bushes and stared down at the body of a man. A thick
branch stuck out from his ribs. His eyes were open and staring at
the canopy of leaves above. His jaw hung loose and crooked, like it
had been broken, and blood leaked from his ears, which were still
covered in downy fur.
    “Tara?” Wes’s body went rigid as he stared
down at the body. “Oh.”
    “I’ve seen him before,” I said. My voice
sounded small and foreign in my ears. “At school, I think. Wonder
why he shifted back and not the others?”
    Wes didn’t answer.
    “I’m fine now. You should go help,” I said,
looking away from the bloody wound on the man’s chest. Seeing him
this way—as a person—shook me in a different way. Suddenly, the
threat of my wolf was gone, and I felt very human.
    “Are you sure?” Wes asked.
    A piercing wail split the air, somewhere
between wolf and human. It cut off and there was silence. It lasted
only a moment before the next shout.
    “Wes!” Derek’s yell sent us both running
back to the others.
    Cambria stood closest. She met my eyes with
a fatigued stare. She had blood on her branch and hands. I could
tell by the look and smell it wasn’t her own. I clutched the branch
in my hand, searching frantically for an enemy to attack or for the
source of that last scream.
    “What is it?” Wes demanded.
    “Did we get them all?” I asked.
    Derek turned to us and very deliberately
stepped aside, giving a clear view of Cord. She was bent over
something—and she was crying. Other than Derek and Wes, no other
wolf was standing.
    I took a step forward, my thoughts still
jumbled from almost shifting. Seeing Cord cry threw me off even
more. At the sight of the familiar vanilla-cream coat I froze. A
lump formed in my chest and expanded until my voice came out a
croak. “No.”
    Wes rushed forward, stooping his neck and
poking Bailey with his nose. Bailey didn’t