Born Wicked

XIV

I hear the mechanical whirring of a power window.

Blond hair. Blue eyes. Fierce, beautiful face of trouble.

"Julian?" I ask meekly, my eyes wide. I sag in relief. "You scared the crap out of me!"

He frowns. "What the hell are you doing walking around like that? Are you trying to get sick or something? Get in the damn car."

Now that I know who it is, my anxiety and fear is replaced by the deep chills of cold weather. I shudder and dash for the warmth of the car. I throw myself into the seat and curl into the heat blowing from the vents.

Wave after wave of shivers and goose bumps race across my skin. The skin of my legs, between the short hem of my shorts and my ankle socks, is pale, an angry red scrape marring my one knee.

He's still scowling. "Seriously," he says, "What are you doing walking by yourself," he gulps, "dressed like that?"

I peer at him, bemused. "Normally, I don't have a stalker," I reply with a smirk.

He shakes his head and before he says anything, he leans into the small back seat of his car and grabs a hoodie. His hoodie. He hands it to me and barks, "Cover your legs."

I sigh, the warmth of the material feels like heaven. "Thanks."

It takes me a second to realize he's mad. Well, that's pretty confusing. I go for the first question that pops into my head, "What are you doing here?"

He grips his steering wheel for a second and then eyes me darkly. "I was looking for you," he replies shortly.

My brows dip low in a frown. "Me? What for?"

He sighs heavily. "We didn't get a chance to finish talking earlier. I was going to offer you a ride home, but when I got out of the locker room, you were already gone." He gives me a look of pure disdain. "Now, I see why. Why the hell wouldn't you change? It's cold out and you're... you're... well you don't have any goddamn pants on!"

I laugh. It's sharp, void of any humor and filled to the brim with shock. "I have shorts on," I remind him, defending myself.

He snorts softly. "Not much of them."

I scowl at him. "It's the uniform," I say hotly, "And it's not like we have a choice." I add peevishly.

He shakes his head. "You had a choice to change after practice though. And you didn't." He eyes my legs wrapped in his sweat shirt and swallows hard.

"I'd rather not have to deal with Blythe," I say dismissively. "So, I change when I get home. Truthfully, it's not that bad until winter comes. Although, I usually bring extra sweats by then, to pull over my uniform. I didn't think it was going to be this cold today." I shrug. "The sun was out earlier."

He regards me calmly, but I can see the storm brewing beneath his sharp, blue gaze. A light of anger underneath that makes his gaze penetrating and intimidating and almost... scary.

"Blythe? What do you mean? What does she have to do with anything?"

I scoff. Which is really an involuntary, nervous response more than anything else. I'm shocked by his question, but there's an edge under his tone that feeds my anxiety. "You're kidding right?"

He grips the back of his neck and glowers at me. "What the hell does that mean?"

Okay, now I'm mad. "Julian Cross, the leader of the pack. The pack of wolves that has hated me and harassed me and isolated me forever. The pack that does whatever their fearless leader commands," I fume. "What do you want from me, Julian? Why are you trying to help me all of a sudden? And why, for that matter, should I want your help? Why should I trust you?" I swallow hard past the emotional lump in my throat.