Kitty Takes a Holiday (Kitty Norville 3)

The door opened and he left the room.

I lunged out of bed, yanked on a pair of sweatpants, and shoved on my sneakers.

“Ben!” I called down the hall at him.

He didn’t turn around, so I followed him. He’d already disappeared outside. I trailed him to the parking lot in time to see him take off his shirt and drop it behind him. He continued past the parking lot, through a trashed vacant lot to the desert beyond.

He was going to Change. His wolf had taken over.

We were too close to town. I couldn’t let this happen.

“Ben!” I ran.

He was so focused on the path before him, on what was happening inside him, he didn’t see me pounding up behind him. He wasn’t in tune with those instincts yet, the sounds and smells, the way they bend the air around you and tell you something’s wrong.

I tackled him.

I wasn’t sure I could take him in a fight. He was stronger than I, but he hadn’t had much practice. I half hoped he’d panic and freeze up. I jumped, aimed at the top half of his back, and knocked him over.

Probably wasn’t the smartest way I could have handled that.

On the ground now, I sat on top of him, pinning him down, and tried to talk reason. I didn’t get a word out before he growled at me—a real, deep-lunged, wolfish growl, teeth bared. His bones slipped under his skin—he was shifting.

“Ben, please don’t do this. Listen to me, listen to me—”

Had to keep him on the ground. This had turned into a wolf thing, and this was how the Wolf would handle it. Keep him on the ground, keep on top of him, show him who’s in charge.

I much preferred talking things out with the human Ben. The real Ben. But I couldn’t argue that this was Ben—him with all the frustrations of the last couple of weeks coming to the fore, finally gaining expression and taking over. Deep down I couldn’t blame him.

Screaming a cry of pain and frustration, he struggled, his whole body bucking and writhing. I couldn’t hold him. I almost did, but then his arm came free and he swiped. He struck, and wolf claws slashed my face. I gasped, more at the shock of it than the pain.

He broke away. In the same movement, the rest of the shift happened, his back arcing, fur rippling across his skin, thick hind legs kicking off his trousers.

“Ben!” My own scream edged into a growl.

This was only his second time as a wolf. He stood, and his legs trembled. He shook himself, as if the fur didn’t sit quite right on his body. He looked back at me, and his body slumped, his tail clamping tight between his legs, his ears lying flat. A display of submission. I held the side of my face, which was slick with blood. His slap had cut deep. His wolf was sorry.

I was frozen. Wolf wanted to leap at him. His struggle called her out, and she wanted to run. Keep our pack together. But I was so angry. Anger burned through every nerve and radiated out. She was the alpha and she wanted to prove it.

He ran. The wolf knew better than to stick around to see what I’d do next, so he leapt around and ran, body stretched out, legs working hard.

I sighed, the anger draining out of me. I ought to just let him go. Except that I couldn’t. Had to keep him out of trouble.

I wiped blood off my face, wiped my hands on my sweats, and ran after him.

chapter 16

I could run faster and for longer than someone who wasn’t a lycanthrope. But I couldn’t hope to keep up with a lycanthrope in wolf form. I could only track him, hope he knew I was following, and that maybe he would think about slowing down. Fortunately, his instincts led him true: away from town, into the open desert.

The night was clear, the air crisp, but the moon was absent. The world was dark. Let me go, let me come out, I can see better in the dark.

No.

I smelled prey here—jackrabbits, quail. Ben had smelled it, too, and it slowed him down. I spotted him ahead, trotting now, his head low, his mouth open, and his tongue hanging.

He must have been tired. Afraid. His movements weren’t assured. A wolf’s trot should have been graceful, swinging, able to cover miles without effort. His feet were dragging, his tail hung low. He wasn’t used to this—lucky for me.

“Ben!”