I killed a girl last night. I did it with my bare hands and an old piece of pipe I found lying next to the dumpster. But that’s not the part that got me. The part that scared me, the part I can’t seem to wrap my head around and still has me reeling, was that when she charged me, her body shifted – and then she was a wolf. All snapping teeth and extended claws. But by the time I stood over her lifeless body, she was a girl again. That’s about the time I went into shock… And that was the moment he showed up. Now, all I can do is accept the truths that are staring me in the face. One, Werewolves do exist. And Two, I was born to kill them.

Wood Point Academy is not at all what I expected. For one thing, it looks like a cross between military school and Buckingham Palace. Everyone stares, the floors shine so bright you can see your reflection in them from a mile away, and no one smiles. Unless they're kicking your butt in the process. At least I've got plenty to take my mind off the fact that my psycho cousin, Miles De'Luca, keeps calling and declaring his love and promising to come for me just as soon as he's destroyed anyone standing in our way. Wes isn't going to like that idea. So between Miles, Wood Point's evil welcoming committee, and the drill sergeant hottie trainer from hell, I just keep asking myself, how did I end up here? Cold Blood is Book 2 in the Dirty Blood series.

Hybrids. If I had to choose one word to sum up all of my problems, this would be it. Without hybrids, I wouldn’t have to watch my best friend slowly becoming a monster. Without hybrids, I could let go of the mentality “hunt or be hunted.” CHAS wouldn’t be scouring the Earth, intent on slaughtering and using Alex to do it. Without hybrids, I wouldn’t have to be on guard that losing my temper meant losing my shape. There would be no monster inside me, struggling to get out. Then again, without hybrids, I wouldn’t have Wesley St. John.

Forty-six. That’s how many hybrids survived the Hunter attack in the woods after I revived them with an injection of my blood. That’s how many followed me home to Frederick Falls. And that’s how many were now mentally linked to me through a blood bond. Two days. Three valium. Fourteen hours of sleep. That’s what it took to realize I wasn’t losing my mind as a result of the noise in my own head. Sixteen. That’s how many days have passed since I almost killed Alex. That’s how many days I’ve sat by his bedside, waiting for him to wake up. To ease the guilt, to understand his betrayal, to remember the exact shade of brown in his eyes. Zero. That’s my chances of skating by with Gordon Steppe and the Hunter Council. They want me for questioning. I’m afraid what’ll happen if I give them answers.

A Bonus pack from Heather Hildenbrand's Dirty Blood series. Includes: One Hour, a sexy interquel between book 4 and 5 from Wes and Tara. The big "first time" moment fans have been waiting for is here. But will it be as memorable for Tara as it is for Wes? ADULT content included. Deleted scenes and letters from all of your favorite characters across all 5 books in the series. \*One Hour was previously published in Losing It, a multi-author anthology no longer available.

I thought watching my Werewolf boyfriend get arrested for murder was the worst experience of my life. But then I was knocked out and dragged off to a cell of my own by the very people who were supposed to protect me from danger. I thought being held prisoner in solitary confinement for weeks on end was the worst experience of my life. But then a visitor came, and I realized I’d been wrong all along. There are worse things than torture and death. Much worse. He wants my blood. More than that, he wants to get into my head. To use my bond to control his army, to wipe the world clean of anything with dirty blood. I can’t let that happen, but if I don’t he’ll kill every single person I’ve ever cared about—beginning with my Werewolf pack. The prophecy said I would have to make an impossible choice, but I must be doing this wrong—so far every choice I’ve made has only led to more pain and danger and death. Hunters are pitted against Werewolves and I’m alone in my war against Gordon Steppe. I can’t fight him off anymore; all I can do is try to keep him out of the important places. And I’m failing at even that. I thought the demons were out there, clearly marked and clinging to the shadows. But they’re not. The monsters are within the ranks of those sworn to protect. The enemy is among us.

I killed a girl last night. I did it with my bare hands and an old piece of pipe I found lying next to the dumpster. But that's not the part that got me. The part that scared me, the part I can't seem to wrap my head around and still has me reeling, was that when she charged me, her body shifted - and then she was a wolf. All snapping teeth and extended claws. But by the time I stood over her lifeless body, she was a girl again. That's about the time I went into shock ... And that was the moment he showed up. Now, all I can do is accept the truths that are staring me in the face. One, Werewolves do exist. And two, I was born to kill them.