Page 37 of Riot

He stared at me. The porch light caught the tension in his jaw, the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Seconds stretched while my wolf paced and I stayed motionless, waiting.

“Trust you,” he repeated. “You’re crouching in my driveway with glowing eyes, and you want me to trust you.”

“Yes.”

“What are you?”

“Someone who would never hurt you.” I held his gaze, letting him see the truth in my expression. “I know that’s hard to believe right now. But I need you to trust me. Just for a minute.”

“You’re—” He stopped, swallowed hard. “People’s eyes don’t glow,” he repeated.

“No. They don’t.”

Somewhere inside the house, a television flickered on with muffled voices. Then silence.

“I’m a shifter,” I said quietly. “Wolf. Born this way. It’s not a curse or a disease. It’s just what I am. What my pack is.”

Calvin blinked. His mouth dropped open slightly. “You’re a dog?”

Despite everything, the corner of my mouth twitched. “Wolf. Not dog.”

“Same difference. Oh, hell. You’re an adult Noodles/Gunner!”

A laugh almost escaped me despite the tension. The absurdity of that response. Of all the things he could have said, it was so perfectly Calvin, and my wolf stopped snarling long enough to be charmed.

“That’s why you’re so...” He gestured vaguely at all of me.

“Tall?”

“Sure. Tall. And the food thing. And the—” He pressed both hands to his face while I tried to figure out what the hell empanadas and rice had to do with being a wolf. “Oh my god. The puppy. She’s not just a puppy.”

“She’s a puppy.”

“A wolf puppy?”

“A regular puppy that runs sideways.”

A sound escaped him that might’ve been a laugh or might’ve been hysteria. His hands dropped, and he looked at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. Confusion. Curiosity. The beginning of something else.

“You won’t hurt me.”

It wasn’t a question, but I answered it anyway. “Never.”

“How do I know that?”

“Because I’m telling you.” Staying in my crouch, fighting every instinct to stand and close the distance between us, I held his gaze. “I would die before I hurt you, Calvin. That’s not a line. That’s just fact.”

Inside the house, a door slammed hard enough to rattle the windows. Calvin flinched and looked toward the sound, his expression shuttered, something dark and tired moving behind his eyes.

When he turned back to me, his shoulders had squared. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll go with you.” He took a step toward me. Then another. His hand reached out, hovering near my shoulder. “But if you try anything weird, I’m telling Spencer.”

“Brutal.”

“Exactly.” His fingers landed on my shoulder. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”