Wounded Kiss (To Be Claimed 1)

“I really want to get my cherry popped before college.” The absurd statement brings me back to the present.

My gaze shoots over to Lizzie. She’s practically the only virgin I know. I wonder if she told me because she’s looking for a major distraction right now since we’ll have to line up soon. Even if she’s not, I am, so I’ll run with it.

We decided to only take a year off of school between high school and college to save up money, so that means she’d only have a few months to lose it. If she’s serious.

“For real?” I can’t help but to question her. She’s never shown any interest before. She nods her head, but it’s quickly followed by a bite of her lip. I know she wants my approval. Not that I’m an expert or anything, but I’m far more comfortable with sex.

“Why?” I ask in all sincerity. “It’s really not what people make it out to be.” We take our seats and stare at the empty stage as Mr. Horga, the gray-haired mayor of Shadow Falls, makes his way across the field with a wireless microphone. “Seriously, I have a better time with my vibrator.” She laughs at me and goes back to sucking down her drink.

“I just feel like such an outcast, you know?”

“Yeah, I know how you feel.” We’ve always been two peas in a pod, dancing to a different beat than everyone else. I clasp her hand with the intention of talking her out of pursuing Mike, but suddenly the whole stadium goes quiet as our gazes are involuntarily pulled to the entrance, waiting for the shifters to walk in and show themselves. Their authoritative presence is felt before anything else. My heart skips a beat and my blood runs cold. It’s overwhelming. I swallow thickly. They’re here.

“Oh shit,” Lizzie hisses in a low whisper. She dropped her drink and what little bit was left is all over the floor in front of us. Her hands are shaking even harder now. “Sorry,” she whispers and half the people around us give her a wary glance before turning back to the cloaked werewolves who are striding across the field toward the stage.

“Just come here,” I say, begging her as if she’s running away when she’s still right here next to me.

“Did it get on your heels?” I look at her like she’s lost her damn mind, silently willing her to be quiet, but when I look at her as she tries to clean up the mess, her expression is distressed.

“It didn’t get me,” I say quietly, focused on easing her worry. I wish I had something to help her wipe up the spilled coffee, though. She’s only got the one tiny napkin that was wrapped around the cup so it’s already soaked and useless. I give in and laugh a little bit before I look back up, which at least makes her grin in response. Her smile makes me feel like we’re okay. Only seconds later, my own vanishes and my heart sinks. I try to swallow but my throat closes as three of the werewolves turn their heads in our direction. Their gaze on us feels like a cold blanket draped over my shoulders and my mouth goes dry. Fuck.

“All right, that’s better.” Lizzie’s comment breaks the spell. I let out a small breath of relief when I realize she didn’t notice the werewolves staring our way.

I reach for her hand and it feels hot in mine.

“Hey love, you’re all right,” I say to her.

She tells me back the same. It’s what we’ve done for years when we’re scared. Her voice is calmer and more comforting than mine. She doesn’t seem to give a shit about their presence, which does wonders for my nerves. Thank God she’s being strong when I can’t. She squeezes my hand tight and smiles brightly at me. “We’re going to walk up there then walk right back down.” I force a small smile on my face and nod my head. Up and right back down. It almost sounds simple when she puts it like that.

“Head down,” I add for good measure.

I look back at the four men who are now on stage, standing in a row. The voluminous cloaks cover their bodies entirely and their faces are mostly concealed by their hoods. Standing with their broad shoulders squared and hands tucked behind their backs, they emanate sheer masculinity and dominance. I breathe out deep.

“I got you, babe.” She kisses the back of my hand, but doesn’t release it. It’s a good thing too because I don’t plan on letting go either.

Mr. Horga has started calling out names. Lizzie and I make sure to go to the back of the line since both our last names start with W. We’re dead last except for one older girl, a girl I recognize from school—I think she was two years ahead of us—who has the most vibrant red hair I’ve ever seen. She’s supposed to be in between Lizzie and me. We’ve never spoken to her before, only seen her around school but this redhead isn’t very talkative so we just keep to ourselves. Even though she keeps staring at our clasped hands like she’s desperate to take her place in between us, I plan on waiting till the last second to get behind her. I’ll be the final person to walk on the stage. My anxiety skyrockets.