Shadow's Moon

by Jami Gray

  He sneered, reopening a cut in his lip. “He’s blinded by his dick. If he hadn’t been so focused on fucking you, he’d have stepped in a hell of a lot earlier.”

  She widened her eyes in mock innocence. “I had no idea you thought so highly of my charms, Sebastian.”

  Her taunt hit its mark. He lunged toward her, only to jerk as the chain bit deep. “Fuck you, Xander!”

  “Temper, temper.” She wagged a finger in front of his face. “If you’re thinking of taking Warrick’s position as alpha you better learn some control.”

  His snarls and growls reverberated with mindless fury and spittle ran down his chin. He seemed unable to control his small jerky movements against the chain.

  Dispassionately, she watched him. He reminded her of a rabid dog wearing a human face. “You’d never survive as alpha. Not only do you lack the control needed, you’ll never have the respect of the pack.”

  Stilling, he gave her a twisted smile. “And you think Vidis does? After you’ve been nothing but a cock tease for months, acting as if he’s not good enough for you? But even that wasn’t enough to stop him from running out on us the minute you got yourself in trouble in Arizona. He chose you over the pack. I’m not the only one who thinks we’re better off without you. You’ve made Vidis weak. An alpha’s priority is his pack, not some piece of ass!”

  She choked back the churning maelstrom his rant ignited. “What would you know of priorities?” she bit out. “You’ve preyed upon our weakest members, promising them something that doesn’t exist, for what? Some idiotic plan to undermine Warrick’s authority?”

  “They were mavericks, outsiders!” he sneered. “They aren’t pack. They’ll never be pack. Besides, they weren’t true wolves, just a bunch of worthless humans who were too stubborn to die.”

  “And that makes it okay to use the Bitten as guinea pigs?”

  “I wasn’t going to let that shit anywhere near our wolves.” Despite the chains, he still managed to shrug his shoulders. “If it wiped out a few freaks, all the better.”

  “But it wasn’t just the Bitten mavericks who suffered,” she pointed out, watching him.

  “So a few humans bit it.” His supreme indifference set her teeth on edge. “They’re like Starbucks, there’s one on every corner.” He bared his teeth in a savage grin. “Consider them collateral damage.”

  She reached out and snagged his chin, her nails digging into his jaw as she held his face still. Leaning in, she hissed, “So Zeke was collateral damage?” Sebastian’s eyes widened as his skin paled, his contemptuous disdain bleeding away, but she didn’t stop. “Zeke’s death is on your hands. The same hands that led at least three Bitten to their deaths, uncaring of who got in the way. You betrayed your alpha and your pack, unnecessarily exposing our world to the humans. For what?” She gave his jaw a sharp twist. “Jealousy? Ego? Power? What was so damn important it was worth the life of your friend, the respect and trust of your pack and alpha?”

  She let go of his head, letting it thump to the ground.

  Fear edged out his anger. “Zeke isn’t dead. You’re lying!” He fought against the chain. “You’re lying!”

  “Do I reek of lies to you?”

  His voice rose. “Vidis was here! He was here! He could use the pack to heal Zeke! He wouldn’t let him die.”

  “He didn’t let Zeke die. You did. Your spell, your drug. The combination of the two kept the ties out of Warrick’s reach.”

  “No, you’re wrong!” he yelled, his voice frantic. “There’s no spell that can interfere with the pack ties.”

  She captured his gaze, held it, knowing he would hear the truth in her answer. “There is, a nasty one. It’s the reason Warrick couldn’t save Zeke from your actions. It’s the same one that kept him in the dark about your treacherous deeds.”

  He shook his head, dragging it through the dirt. “No, that’s not possible.”

  There was no scent of deceit in his answer. Uneasiness rose. Something didn’t add up. If Sebastian had nothing to do with the spell then it meant there was another unknown threat out there. Someone who was using Sebastian without his knowledge. Was that even possible? She needed to ask Cheveyo.

  “Then give me another explanation,” she demanded, her patience unraveling.

  Desperation seeped from him. “Maybe it was the drug,”

  She gave him a nasty smile. “The drug? Why don’t you share what nasty shit was in your little ‘cure’?” she crooned.

  He couldn’t hide his wince at the dangerous edge in her tone. “I don’t know.”

  “Who gave it to you?”

  “Some lab rat.” Some of his old arrogance began making a reappearance. He was going to play dumb.

  In no mood to screw around, she asked, “Gavin, do you have a knife I can borrow?”

  Sebastian paled as Gavin handed her a beautiful black blade, edged in silver.

  Leaning forward, she brought the ultra sharp tip up until it rested against the soft skin under Sebastian’s eye. He sucked in a breath and his eyelid fluttered. “Careful there, I’m not as steady with my left hand,” she warned, letting him see how badly she wanted to dig the blade in. “Name.”

  “Brant—Brant Sutler.”

  “And this Brant, he made the drug?” She let the blade pierce the skin, drawing a small ruby bead forth to tremble on the tip.

  “I—I don’t think so.” Sebastian’s throat worked as he swallowed convulsively. “But I think he knows who did.”

  “You’re going to tell us where we can find Brant, aren’t you?”

  “Ye—yes,” he stuttered, unable to move for fear of impaling his eye on her pretty new toy. Tears seeped from the corner of his eyes as he rattled off an address. She committed it to memory, even knowing Warrick and Ryuu would do the same.

  When he was done, she pulled the knife back and handed it back to Gavin. Ignoring Sebastian, she waited until Gavin slipped the knife back in place before saying, “I need Cheveyo.”

  Gavin offered her a hand to pull her to her feet. “I’ll call him.”

  As she rose, Sebastian began to jerk at her feet. “You can’t turn me over to that witch!”

  Not bothering to mask her disgust or contempt, she looked at him. “Watch me.”

  “You can’t do that!” Then something behind her caught his attention. “Tell her, Vidis. I’m pack. We don’t turn pack over to outsiders.”

  “You’re not pack, Sebastian.” Cold satisfaction filled her as she said the words. “You’re nothing. You’re less than nothing.”

  Watching his rising panic was fun. Not as much as tearing him apart piece by piece, but close. Warrick and Ryuu came to stand beside her, their silent judgment lying heavy on the air.

  She knew the moment Sebastian realized he was no longer connected to any of the wolves because his face went slack then horror wiped everything else away.

  “No!” he screamed. “What did you do, bitch?” He began to thrash against his bonds. “I’m going to kill you! I’ll rip out your throat and feast on your guts!”

  She let his words wash over her, waiting until his fury had run its course.

  He lay panting, his body twitching involuntarily under the chain. Brutal realization was a crushing mistress, wiping out all of his earlier arrogance and anger. Sebastian stared at her, a dull light in his eyes. “Why?” he asked hoarsely.

  Standing over him, she felt hollow. There was no misinterpreting his question. A pack wolf without a pack was a living ghost. “Killing you would be too easy.”

  He closed his eyes and turned his face away.

  Maybe Cheveyo would have some success in figuring out who used Sebastian to set the spell, but for her, there was nothing more to learn from him. Turning, she stood before Warrick, heart sick and exhausted. “We need to give him to Cheveyo and figure out who’s using him.”

  Warrick didn’t answer, just stared over her head, his attention focused on Sebastian. This close, the roiling emotions he battled pressed against her
like a thunderstorm.

  She snuck a glance at Ryuu, who wasn’t in much better shape. Sighing, she decided to pull out the big guns. Leaning into Warrick, she wrapped her good arm around his waist. “Take me home, Warrick. I hurt and I’m tired.”

  Without a word, he picked her up and left the barn.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Xander and Warrick left Sebastian with Ryuu and Gavin, who promised to take him to Taliesin where Cheveyo waited. She didn’t argue when Warrick had Ryuu set her wrist. Considering how fast shifters healed, she’d rather have the bones in place now, rather than rebreak the wrist later. The makeshift splint lessened the dull ache, but did nothing for the one in her head.

  When Ryuu was done, Warrick actually carried her back to the sedan. He set her on her feet before opening her door. Once settled inside, he leaned over to fasten her seat belt. Worried by his continued silence, she reached out and touched his face, turning him toward her. Small starbursts of amber lit his eyes, and there was an edge to him she couldn’t pin down.

  “Want me to drive?”

  Instead of answering, he dipped his head and caught her lips in a tender kiss. The taste of him filled the last of the hollow places inside her, spreading heat and need. Even as exhausted as she was the urge to burrow into his warmth and strength was tempting. When he drew back, something tight inside loosened in her chest, allowing her to finally breathe.

  He ran his thumb over her lower lip. “No, just rest.” He closed the door and slid into the driver’s seat. Headed back down the winding road, he asked, “How’s the wrist?”

  “Better.” She tried to relax in the seat but couldn’t find a comfortable position. “Can you lean my seat back?”

  A small grin appeared. He fiddled with something on the side of his seat and hers began to recline. She sighed with relief and settled in, facing him. “How long before we’ll have to meet Cheveyo, do you think?”

  Sporadic moonlight played tag with the shadows, adding interesting new angles to his face. “Four, maybe closer to five hours.”

  The clock on the dash read just after three in the morning. “I’m going to need more caffeine.”

  “Food first,” he countered, sliding her an unreadable look. “Then sleep.”

  She smiled to herself. Her alpha was kind of cute when he tried handling her. “Drive-thru?”

  “Home.”

  She held up her bandaged hand and his smile made a comeback. “I’ll cook,” he offered.

  She closed her eyes and let her lips curve up. “I could get use to this.”

  “What?”

  “Having you take care of me.” A yawn caught her, cracking her jaw.

  His chuckle was soft. “Sleep, pixie girl.”

  Exhaustion wrapped her in soft arms and dragged her down.

  Xander woke when the white noise of the engine cut out. She blinked blearily as the dull thump of Warrick’s door sounded. During the short ride home, her body’s various aches and pain had morphed into a stubborn stiffness that left her feeling as if she had aged twenty years. Her door opened, and the cold early morning air chased the enclosed warmth out of the car.

  Before she could get her bearings, Warrick picked her up and made his way to the house. She hooked her arm around his neck, letting the splint rest on his shoulder.

  He paused at the door. “Can you get the keys out of my hand?”

  It was awkward, but she managed to snag the keys without falling out of his arms. She fumbled left-handed and got the key in the lock. She pushed the door open and Warrick kicked it shut behind them. He took her straight to the living room and placed her on the couch. “Stay put. I’ll grab a blanket and bring you some food.”

  She caught his hand as he turned away, holding him captive. “I was joking, you know.”

  He looked back at her, one eyebrow raised. “About?”

  Heat rushed over her face. “You don’t have to take care of me. I’ll come help with the food.”

  He turned back, crouched in front of her, and gently took her hand. “Let me.” The intensity in his gaze had her squirming. “I like taking care of you and you so rarely give me the opportunity to indulge.”

  “Okay.” Her voice sounded breathy, and only when he had risen to his feet and left her alone did she drop her head into her hands. Oh gods, lame response. She wasn’t some fainting flower! But there was no denying how his words and actions touched her heart, healing some of her emotional hurt from earlier. Having him there made this gods-awful night bearable. At least she wouldn’t be sleeping alone with only her nightmares for company.

  Weighted warmth drifted over her, and she opened her eyes to find a hand-crocheted blanket in various shades of green covering her. She tilted her head back to see Warrick standing behind the couch. “Thanks.”

  “I’ve got food heating, but there’s time for a shower if you want,” he offered.

  She considered how much effort it would take to make it up the stairs and weighed it against the grimy feel of her blood-soaked clothes. “A shower would be great.”

  She pushed the blanket off and swung her feet to the floor. Testing her balance, she gingerly pushed her battered body upright. Warrick moved around the couch to provide additional support if needed.

  “I’m good.” She waved him away. “Go keep an eye on our food. I don’t want you to burn anything.”

  “Xander,” he growled.

  She held up a hand to stop whatever he was going to say then shuffled like some elderly woman toward the stairs. “I’m fine. I got this.”

  He didn’t move but watched as she began the climb. She was grateful he didn’t rush to help, knowing the more she moved, the easier it would get. She made it up the stairs, breathing a sigh of relief when she reached the top. Gripping the railing, she leaned over and gave the man waiting at the bottom a grin. “See? All in one piece.”

  Warrick leaned against the newel post, his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re looking a little pale there, love.”

  No surprise there. Her legs felt like wet noodles and she had a feeling the only thing keeping her upright was her grip on the railing. “It’s the lighting.” She paused. Another round with the stairs would knock her on her ass. “But maybe we could eat up here?”

  Laughter lessened the lines on his face. “Go. I’ll bring the food up.” He turned and made his way to the kitchen.

  She stopped just inside the double doors to his bedroom. It was pitch black and she felt along the wall until she found the light switch. With the light on, she realized why his room was so dark. Boards covered the broken window. Had that only been a day ago? Dear gods, it felt so much longer.

  At least the glass shards were gone. Moving around the room, she snagged one of Warrick’s T-shirts and headed into the bathroom. Rummaging through the cabinets finally produced a plastic bag she could use to cover the make-shift splint on her arm. It wasn’t pretty but it would work.

  Standing in front of the mirror, she studied the remnants of her clothes in dismay. There was no salvaging her shirt. Damn it, at this rate she would need to replace her entire wardrobe. The pants needed a few sessions with the washer, but they should survive. Streaks of rusty brown had long since replaced the purple dye in her hair and bruises in various stages of healing left her looking like the victim of some over-enthusiastic, deranged make-up artist.

  Sighing, she turned away from her reflection and used the handy-dandy rips in her shirt to pull it off completely, dropping it to the floor. She kicked the ragged pile into the corner then turned on the shower, letting the water warm up. Only having one hand made getting her boots off challenging and, after much cursing and a few creative contortions, she won the battle. They joined the shirt, quickly followed by the rest of her grungy clothes. Finally naked, she stepped into the shower.

  When the warm water hit her skin, she flinched until her body recovered from the shock. Slowly, her muscles uncoiled, leaving her in a near comatose state, her head resting against the wall as wa
ter sluiced over her back, her wrist cradled protectively at her waist. Steam rose around her, adding to the time-out-of-time feeling. As her body let the night’s tensions go, the little mental compartments she shoved everything into began to dissolve.

  Safe within the cascading water, she began to tremble under the rising tide of her emotions. The waves tossed her between the sharp sorrow of Zeke’s death, the bitter bite of Sebastian’s betrayal, and the never-ending loop of what-ifs that scraped over her anger and guilt. There was no life preserver of ready answers to save her, so she rode the emotional currents, letting them run their course. When they finally calmed, she found herself adrift in a strange sort of serenity.

  Her earlier come-to-Jesus moment about her relationship with Warrick had put things in perspective. If she wanted their mating to last, it was time to accept him, fleas and all, and show him she was strong enough to stand beside him, even when he tried to push her away. And he would try, much like his verbal attack tonight.

  Loving him wouldn’t be easy. It hadn’t been a walk in the park before they bonded, and she honestly couldn’t figure out why she thought the bond would make things easier. The damn thing made it nearly impossible to hide anything. At least she’d never be bored.

  As for Sebastian and the mess he dragged to their door, it was time to go hunting. She couldn’t bring Zeke back, but she’d make damn sure everyone involved in his death was brought down. If nothing else, it would offer his family and the pack some closure. They needed to start with Sebastian’s supplier, Brant Sutler. Once Ryuu got them information on the guy, she could decide on the best approach. From there, it became a matter of working her way backwards until she found the mastermind.

  Her thoughts came to a screeching halt as achingly familiar hands wrapped around her hips and drew her back. Her spine met the solid muscles of Warrick’s chest and the feel of him, hot and hard pressed against her ass, sent delicate shivers over her. She let her head fall back, closing her eyes as the water sprayed over her face.