Secrets and Shadows (5 page)

He chuckled, a deep noise that wel ed up from somewhere undeniably close to where growls were made.

I flopped back on my bed, curling the pil ow to my stomach and taking a deep breath.

“
Va chem dayla?
What’s the matter?”

“I need you to stop kissing her,” I admitted.

“Oh.”

“I know we were going to wean her away gradual y, but every kiss … it hurts me. I need her to get the hint sooner.”

“Wil she not push harder?” he asked, his voice going soft. Gentle as snowfal .

“Ugh.” I sighed. “Maybe. But she’l get the hint. Soon. Once she knows you don’t real y want her anymore—”

“I haven’t wanted her yet.”

The breath caught in my throat. “She’l move on,” I guaranteed.

“You’re certain?”

“Once a girl knows a guy doesn’t want her, she’l find someone who does.”

He was quiet a moment. “That sounds—logical.”

“Good. Um.
Horashow
.”

He chuckled again, the sound washing over me, warming the pit of my stomach. “
Dobray nohch
,” he said.

“Good night,” I replied.

The next day Pietr did not once kiss Sarah. Watching, I realized avoiding her lips was difficult. Stooping to get his backpack, her lips were in his way. Grabbing something from his locker, she nearly fel in sliding between him and his notebooks. Sarah’s lips were as predictably present as acne the day of a dance.

I wondered how often people got kissed because it was easier to give in than dance away.

Pietr shot me an exasperated look after he nearly toppled into the girls’ bathroom avoiding Sarah.

I stayed firm, and Pietr returned to watching the clock whenever Sarah was near.

Time meant everything to Pietr Rusakova because it was so quickly running out. The bonuses to being a werewolf: strength, agility, quick healing. The downside? A short life span and a time-bomb-style countdown ticking away in your ears and getting louder when you made your first ful change.

Pietr was dying.

And he knew it.

He’d once told me time didn’t matter when he was with me. The way he kissed me, I believed him. Every bit of me wanted to make time stand stil for him.

In the cafeteria I opened my bagged lunch and pul ed out my sandwich and carrot sticks. Fishing out the yogurt I decided how to start. “It’s almost here, you know.” I pul ed the foil off the yogurt and dug around the bottom with my spoon to mix the berries in. The best stuff was always on the bottom. I paused. Did yogurt and society at large have that in common?

“What?” Pietr cocked his head in speculation.

“Oh. Hal oween,” I said.

Amy choked with laughter, setting her milk down. “You are
so
transparent!”

“What?” Pietr focused his attention more keenly on me.

Sarah giggled.

I shrugged.

Sputtering, Pietr declared, “She’s right!” He reached across the table and jabbed my shoulder. “You’re fishing—about your birthday,
da?
”

“Nooo,” I insisted.

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Pietr quipped, reloading his fork. “Wait.” He set the fork down. “You said before that you always host some sort of birthday bash.” His eyes narrowed.

I looked down.

“Oh,” he said, realizing as he looked at my lunch.

“Crap.” Amy’s mood spiraled.

Dad’s factory had been in the papers and on the local news again recently. Anytime a business that had been around so long started widespread layoffs, it was talked about. It only made sense we’d be cutting out unnecessary expenditures. Like my birthday party.

“I’ve had sixteen of them already,” I pointed out, brushing it off. Though I’d brought it up.

Amy stared at my sandwich. Living in the trailer park like she did, her dad already out of work, she was as powerless in this as I was.

Pietr grinned as he chewed. “I’l have to keep Catherine out of the kitchen for the sake of the guests, but Max suggested a Hal oween party.… More to celebrate is always better.”

I didn’t ask but hoped there might be a hidden meaning to his words. Perhaps
more to celebrate
had something to do with finding their mother. Or being free of Sarah. Either way, I’d welcome the news.

“If you don’t mind your birthday being celebrated early, I can convince my family to hold it in conjunction—”

“What a
stupendous
idea!” Sarah said, pul ing out one of her more recent vocabulary additions. Since the accident she’d developed a fascination with words, often finding ones I’d misplaced. A fascination with words, and with Pietr. “I’l help.”

The joy drained out of the concept for me. “I don’t want to intrude.”

Pietr kicked me under the table but laughed. “Intrude? You can help with the guest list.”

I looked at the chain sparkling around his neck. If he just took it off he’d have flocks of girls desperate to attend even a quilting bee with Pietr Rusakova. The Rusakovas had a strange power that could only be described as the ultimate animal magnetism. Pietr didn’t need guest suggestions from me.

“Okay,” I conceded. “If it’s no imposition. It’s real y no big deal—and I don’t want it to turn into one, either. ”

Amy rol ed her eyes at Pietr.

“Hey! Real y! It’s no big deal,” I repeated.

This time she rol ed her eyes at me. And stuck out her tongue. What a pal.

I waved my hands in the air. “Fine! Whatever.”

Amy grabbed my arm. “Even
I
know that’s not how you wrap up this conversation,” she leered, tugging me to face Pietr. “What do you say?” she coaxed in a singsong voice, like a mother training her child.

“Thank you, Pietr.” My face burned as he laughed, the low, amused sound sending a shudder down my backbone.

He refocused on the clock.

A few hours and we would be together, at least for a while.

* * *

“
Nyet
,” he admitted. “
The Princess Bride?
”

“Yep. I thought … since my birthday’s going to be celebrated at your Hal oween party and I hope …

well…”
God.
Why did I stumble and stutter around him? “I hope al this mess with Sarah wil be done.

well…”
God.
Why did I stumble and stutter around him? “I hope al this mess with Sarah wil be done.

That—”

“We’l be official,” he finished for me. “It shouldn’t take long. Many things should be better by then.”

“So we can go as a couple?”

“
Da
. My present to you.” He paused, and I got the impression he was taking notes. “This—Man in Black

—do I look like him?”

I giggled. “Not exactly.” I pointed out the most important part. “But he’s the movie’s hero. Only blond.”

“Like Derek.” The words came out sharply.

“No.
Not
like Derek. Not at al ,” I objected. “Do you stil not get it, Pietr? I seriously like you.” I’d decided not to bring up anything remotely related to
love
. “Derek’s old news. There was nothing between us, and there won’t ever be.”

My words were greeted by thick silence.

“I can’t imagine what it would take to push me away from you and toward Derek. I don’t
want
to imagine.

”

He sighed. “So I am to dress as the Man in Black and you wil be this—Buttercup?”

“Yes.
Da,
” I corrected.

“Say it again.”

“What?”

His voice grew husky as he repeated his request. “Say yes—
in Russian
—again.”

I blushed. “
Da
,” I whispered. “Wil you teach me more Russian, Pietr?”

“Mmm. Only the important words,” he promised.

I bit back my request for the three most important words to me. “What words would you teach me?”

“
Pocelujte menyah
.”

“What’s that mean?”

He groaned. “Repeat it tonight and perhaps I wil show you. Now, though, I must rent a movie.”

“You’re going to do that?”

“Of course. I’m a werewolf, not a cretin. We have Blockbuster cards.”

It blew my mind. Werewolves rented DVDs. At my local Blockbuster.

“I’l see you tonight,” he guaranteed.

“
Da
,” I agreed.

* * *

I readied for bed—or the ruse of sleep—knowing the Rusakovas would protect me. That worried me, too. I didn’t want anyone getting hurt
because
of me. What did Cat real y think I could do to help?

I was, after al , only human.

Something cracked against my window. I jumped, rushing over to haul it open.

He stood outside, darkness draping his arms and shoulders in a long ebony coat. He wore black jeans and nothing else. Moonlight washed across his bare chest and stomach. My heart pounded.

Pietr.
Dazzling in the darkness. He tilted his head, saying nothing. But I knew what the action meant.

The window slid shut with a squeak. I grabbed a sweater hanging from the edge of my dresser drawer and shrugged into it. Turning off my bedroom lights I locked my door behind me. Dad knew I did so to keep Annabel e Lee from snooping—he might not suspect anything if he came home late and found it that way.

I crept down the stairs and out the door, ignoring the need for a jacket. If Dad returned while I was gone, that’d be the first thing he’d notice. Besides, the way my heart raced so quickly and my blood pumped so hotly I couldn’t imagine I needed a jacket at al .

I edged into the darkness gnawing at the soft light that spil ed from Annabel e Lee’s bedroom window above. She was probably stil awake, reading. “Pietr,” I whispered, my eyes struggling to find him among the tree trunks and the branches of bushes crackling in the breeze.

“Uh!” I stumbled back, startled to find him so close. He caught me, his hand hot and fierce as he yanked me up so I stood stably. He studied my face.

“
Pocelujte menyah
,” I said. Loudly. And very haltingly.

Something flared in his eyes, bright as wildfire, and he grabbed me, covering my mouth with his. I gasped, and he moved his lips against mine, pinning our bodies together with his powerful arms. Every nerve ending in my body sparked like electricity rioted just beneath my skin as we breathed the same air.

Shared the same tastes.

He pul ed back, blinking. His eyes glowed the red lantern light of the wolf’s and he blew out a breath, bracing himself.

I threw myself at him, reaching up to wrap my arms around his neck and covering his face with eager kisses.

“Easy,” he said, his voice strangling in a growl as he gripped my waist and pried me off. His eyes were stunningly bright, as bold as the blinking stoplight at the edge of town. His nostrils flared, fil ed with my scent. His form quivered in the darkness, stuttering around the edges. He shook himself, puffed out a breath, and rubbed his head. “We need to hurry,” he said, smile curling.

“Where’s the car?”

“Off the road at the driveway’s edge.”

“Let’s go.” I started walking down the drive.

From behind me Pietr cal ed, “This’l be faster.”

I heard something unzip. My eyes popped realizing Pietr only wore one zipper’s worth of clothing. I spun around and caught a pair of black jeans.

With my face.

I heard, “Hop on,” and the wolf was beside me, casting his muzzle up in an arc to remind me to climb up.

“Uhh—” Stunned, I rol ed the jeans and tucked them under my arm before climbing onto the wolf’s back.

Clutching the thick ruff of fur covering his broad shoulders I tried not to think about the fact I was riding Pietr.

Yeah.
Not easy to forget leaning across his powerful back, my face in fur that smel ed of pine-fil ed forests. He raced down the long gravel drive to the car, his body so hot from the change I wished I’d carried my sweater with his jeans.

The echo of his heart pounded through his ribs and spine, jolted against my chest, fil ing me with our shared pulses. My head spun. My stomach dropped like I was riding a rol er coaster, not a werewolf. I melted against him, and al my worries and confusion bubbled back up in my wriggling stomach.

Why couldn’t things in my life be simple? Why couldn’t Pietr and I just be
us?
Together. In public.
Crap.

Why must Pietr be so amazing and so complicated—so frustrating?

We stopped neatly beside the car and I jumped off him, throwing his jeans at him. “Ugh!” I cried as he changed and slipped into his pants. “You could have just carried me. As a human. But, no. You had to get naked and go al wolf—
commando
. Fil ing my head with…” I clamped my hands over my mouth.

He had the good grace to look abashed. As if he’d never considered another possibility. “The wolf…”

But he fel silent, head down as he dragged his knuckles across his forehead.

“The wolf makes him stupid,” Cat finished for him, opening the door and pul ing me onto the seat beside her as headlights appeared down the road.

My body buzzed. It was like the time I’d trained so hard with Rio and found out the competition was cancel ed. Like there was something stil to do. With a growl of my own, I clicked my seat belt together.

Cat glared at Pietr as he tumbled into the front seat.

From the driver’s seat Max peered back at me, eyes glowing just beneath his tousle of dark curls. He had a charmingly sheepish look whenever he wasn’t wolfishly eyeing the girls who threw themselves at him. Max was werewolf number three. A few inches tal er than Pietr and broader across the shoulders and chest, Maximilian Rusakova was a daunting figure whether slinking through the shadowy hal s of Junction High or driving the family’s cherry-red convertible. If Max had been interested in footbal he could have made Junction’s Jackrabbits unstoppable.